Getting Loose

Tea for Two

Since knowing Roger, my British exchange clergyman, our tea consumption has increased, first starting in Houston, and now here in London.  I’ve not seen this many cups before in the dishwasher for just two people . . .

A Heart Strangely Warmed

On our way in to the Museum of London, there was this big, metallic sculpture about of all things, John Wesley’s conversion. 
All I had ever seen were some of his thoughts about what happened that evening.  I did not know that earlier that day he had been to St. Paul’s—the very church where we had taken communion at half past 12 m. the other day.  At the time, it did not dawn on me that the Revd. Mr. Wesley must have frequented that very church many times in his life.  But then, after all, he died still being a priest in the Church of England; he was never a part of what we know as a “Methodist” Church.

Lagniappe

I’m not sure it is truly a French word.  I think it is more an American French word, which is a polite way of saying that it is Cajun.  It basically means something added.

We were on our way to the Museum of London when I happened to look across the street and see something about Aldersgate.  Mind you, we were never setting out for Aldersgate, but crossed the street to read the sign.  Lo, and behold, without even designing it, we were at the very address where John Wesley had the most famous of his many conversion experiences.  I could not believe it!  Talk about a pilgrimage spot for Methodists!

Clothes Line

I’ll bet not a whole lot of kids have seen this invention in use anymore. 

This is only a few of the clothes, 
 
but honestly, until the Mrs. started putting the clothes out to dry, I had forgotten seeing my mother do the very same kind of thing over 50 years ago.  My mate swears she is determined to have one in our yard.

The Golden Triangle

A friend of mine, Ted Campbell, a Beaumont boy, asked me what was distinctive about Southeast Texas.  This is some of how I responded:

    Houston claims to represent SE Texas, but as anyone from the Golden Triangle knows, it just ain't so.  The ethos of Southeast Texas truly is much more likely to be found within the confluence of the Trinity, Neches, and Sabine rivers that wind and twist through its very soul.

    At first I wanted to say that what is distinctive is its geography.  But that is not  accurate.  Even though a geologist could map out the convergence of the piney woods with the coastal plain, what is distinctive is much deeper than what can be seen or touched or heard.

    I think that at root and core, what is distinctive is an intangible nexus of the raw bounty this land had to offer in making a fortune—or at least a way of life—from fishing in the waters of the bay or gulf, to the timbers of its mighty forests, to the fertile land yielding a rich bounty of rice, or the drilling for black gold and its many spin-off industries.  Long before derivatives were some arcane financial component to a corporate back page, it was alive and well in Southeast Texas with its magnetic siren call beckoning to those looking for a higher wage, a better standard of living, than could be found from its contiguous geographic cousins.  It was a call that few could resist.

    The promised yield was nearly mesmerizing.  The opportunity for a better life was appealing.  The conjoining of the rich and poor, the black and white, the educated and the uncultivated, provided a rich brew that bequeathed to the residents of Southeast Texas, a malt in which friendships could be forged, in which ideas could be distilled, and in which memories could be sifted endlessly—whether through the turbulence of parsing junior high alliances or the sophisticated pastiche of people bent on improving not just their economic lot, but the very heart of their social fabric as well.

    The environment, the context that engenders southeast Texas is unique to itself, and yet like so many other areas, is a rich loam from which could be fashioned and formed lives that made a difference—contemporaneously, as well as historically.

Vulpes

I don’t have a zoom on the camera in my phone.  (Yeah, right!  That’s a scream.  A camera in a phone!)  At any rate, if you will click on the picture and zoom in on it, you will see the fox that was in our back yard on Sunday afternoon sunning himself.

The Clerical Collar

Over here in JOE (Jolly Ole’ England), all denominational clergy wear a clerical collar.  

I knew that before I came over, and I wasn’t sure what I thought about it.  I tend to wear clerical collars only very occasionally—like for a funeral in a funeral home (which they call crematoria over here), or an occasional wedding, or when I have to act  in some official capacity at a public event, or very, very occasionally when I go to the hospital, or when I get my driver’s license picture made.

But to come to JOE, I went ahead and bought 2 additional clergy shirts (one black and one grey--both long sleeved).  Here, I use them exclusively for Sunday service, going to residential homes (i.e., nursing homes), and other sundry activities. 

I’ll have to admit it does tend to make me feel a little more official somehow, like I have on a costume that people recognize the credentials that go with it. 

What will I do when I get back?  I just am not sure.  I like travelling incognito in a lot of ways, yet on the other hand, wearing a clerical collar opens a lot of doors.

I’ll just have to see.

Altoids

In America, they are called Altoids. 

 

In JOE, they are called “Curiously Strong Mints.” 

 

Whatever they are called, they are made in the Netherlands.

Technology

The technology I use to get these posts done blows my mind sometimes. 

I have taken a few pictures with my phone.  A few years ago, a fellow could have been deemed crazy to say that he was taking pictures with his phone.  If someone had told me back in the eighth grade that someday I would take pictures with my phone, I would have said, "Yes, right after they start selling water in bottles.  Get outta here!"

I then pick out the pictures I want and I have several choices as to what to do with them.  I e-mail them as an attachment to my email address right off of the smartphone.  I then go to the computer, get my email and download the attached picture to the desktop.  I then create a picture holder in my blog, paste the picture into the holder, and voila, there it appears. 

Probably, if I had enough savvy I could download the pictures to the computer directly, but that would mean scrounging to find a USB cable, and right now, dear me, I rally can't be bothered with that. <snif>.

Acton Hill

I went to the Good Companion group at the Acton Hill Church.  It was a group that met in the back of a sanctuary designed to seat 1,000 people. 
Quite an impressive structure with stone facing (though this is the old church just around the corner, but you get the idea).  They were cordial, meaning not all of them fell asleep as I described my call into ministry, and a little of how we have had to do things differently at Terrace in order to survive and grow.  And that attendance has grown by 12% in three years as a result.

 

Graham, their lay leader was so gracious to collect me at the manse and drop me off again.  On the way back, we got to talking about the common language that divides our two great nations, e.g.,  they have no trucks in England.  What they have instead are lorries.  And police officials are not called cops.  Perhaps coppers, but never cops.  Cop is an Americanism that probably comes from the meaning of nabbing someone.  We stand in line.  In Britain they queue.  In NYC they stand on line.

 

In Britain, the further north you go toward Scotland, the more difficult Londoners find their ability to understand the accents in northern England!

 

For supper we went to Maxim’s. 
We are fortunate that it is on the same block where we live right around the corner.  It is most likely one of the best 4-5 Chinese restaurants in all of London.