GUILT

So I'm feeling guilty about a number of things . . . .
 . . . not posting to this Blog for over a month . . . not being home to welcome Tom back from Iraq . . . for upgrades to first class when traveling . . . for using a Delta Sky Club membership . . . .

I could make all kinds of reasons  for all of the above and then I would be accused lame excuses. So I'll only defend the travel related part for now.

I'm finally settling into my not-so-new job serving as the Officer for Youth and Lifelong Christian Formation and Vocation for The Episcopal Church. (Officially began July 1, 2009 - staff and budget cuts hit July 17, 2009 - appointed to new position effective January 1, 2010.) The nature of this ministry depends upon building relationships with individuals resourcing dioceses throughout our global communion. That requires some travel. But travel needs to happen in a cost effective way. So I try to pack in as many contacts as possible whenever I travel.

I'm in the midst of a ten-day "road-trip." (Check my other blog for details www.episcoyouth.blogspot.com ) I flew to San Francisco last Friday. I still haven't seen the Golden Gate Bridge. On Sunday I flew to Nashville, Music City. Still haven't been to Graceland. Today I flew through Atlanta to get to Richmond, Virginia. Tomorrow I drive up to visit our Episcopal Office of Government Relations and Federal Chaplaincies offices to participate in staff meetings. Over the weekend I get to participate in a retreat with Christian Educators in the Diocese of Southern Virgina (my favorite part of this particular trip :) )

Many people marvel at how much travel I undertake; "I don't know how you can do that!" or "You're so lucky, you get to see so many places!"

I traveled a lot in Minnesota when I worked for our diocese there. I put over 120,000 miles on my trusty Ford Focus SVT in less than five years. Fortunately I like driving and I don't mind church potluck meals.

But this nationwide (and eventually global) travel is a different beast.

I stay in a mix of hotels and retreat centers. Now and then I get a personal offer to stay with someone, but there's always that weird edge of how to receive the invitation. Was it simply a polite offer? Or did the individual really want to host me as a guest? I usually end up in the hotel or retreat center.

Travel delays are an interesting factor in the mix, too. And then there's the whole "What Time Zone Am I In?" issue.

I've learned a few things in these short months; some from my own experience and some from the wisdom of my more seasoned colleagues.

"Get a Sky Club Membership" said a friend. That seemed so luxurious, like an unnecessary indulgence.

HOLY COW!! During flight delays in Minneapolis the day I left I tucked into a cubicle in the MSP Delta Sky Club to take advantage of a solid internet signal, used the copy machine, participated in a conference call, and logged in a solid three hours of work. I wouldn't have been able to get anywhere near that amount of work done trying to hang at a gate in the noisy airport.

And when I don't have time to actually work at the Sky Club, I can still head in there and benefit from free beverages, snacks, and internet access.

When you spend as much time on airplanes as I do - Thanks Be To God for occasional upgrades to first class! FYI - I NEVER pay to upgrade to first class. My first class indulgences are not at the expense of Episcopalians in the pew giving their hard earned cash for the mission of the church. In fact, part of why I'm on the road for ten days this time, is because our amazing travel agent Nancy worked a miraculous multi-leg trip for me that would have topped more than $2800 had I flown to each meeting independently. She's got me in the air across the nation from coast to coast and back to the upper Midwest for a little over $1000 after airport fees.

Fortunately my husband is an introvert, homebody type that doesn't mind my vagabond adventures on behalf of the church. My sons are mostly out the door, leaving the proverbial nest closer to empty day by day. I FaceBook with one of them and text both with frequency no matter where I am. And the blessing is that when I'm not traveling I get to work from home. I'm far more productive there with no temptations to socialize with office friends during my work day. The dog does keep me honest about body function breaks :)

So please don't harass me about my new lifestyle. I like it most of the time and I'm figuring out how to maximize the assets available to be efficient as an employee and healthy as a human being. It's an intersting balancing act!

BTW - I hate blogging without photos to post and my Blackberry still won't post pics to FaceBook, which is the easiest way to upload them to the blog. Any suggestions?

Love you all!
B

Great Galena Road Trip

It has been said that "What goes to Galena stays in Galena." But really, I grew up in Galena, made some mistakes, made some lifelong friends, still have family there (Dear Old Dad, Bookless, Websters, Capt. Larry, Gillies and Runde People, etc. . . .)

Truly nothing has happened on the Annual Costume Shop Retreat/Advent Outing/Galena Girls Weekend that has to be hush, hush and stay in Galena. My high school classmates could dish out far more facinating dirt on me if you're really into that sort of thing. (Class of 19?? Galena High School)

But when one travels with one's closest friends and allows herself to be emotionally, intellectually, politically, and spritually vulnerable; confessing deep truths, difficult decisions, inconsolable sorrows, boundless joys, unobtainable longings, well, it just really isn't any one person's story to tell. (We rejoice over things like Princess Kathy, or in this instance Angel Kathy, wearing practical shoes for a change!) That confidence and context thing comes into play. So we will share our most humorous stories of our annual escape to Galena with our closest friends/partners/spouses who know us well and love us anyway.

For the rest of you it's only the shared stories that I'll publish here. Later this week I will tell the story of Bubba being sucked dry by some form of Mechanical Vampire. (See Laugh and Live Longer pic at right.)

Tonight I need to get to bed and tomorrow head for the office in New York City fortified with friendships that are profound. I go to bed tonight feeling incredibly blessed and content. Thank you my friends, thank you.

For the record, I wrote the following in the public journal of the Redtail Retreat at the Galena Territory this morning before we departed my favorite corner of Northwest Illinois to travel up The River back to Minnesota:

 . . . . now that our average age officially exceeds 49, we find that we drink and eat less and sleep more!

P.S. Fact: Kathy never wins at anything and Janet needs help with her mittens!

Barb, Peggy and Linda - we really missed you this year. We prayed for you as we did a Dickeyville Grotto Drive-by! Rookie, we missed you, too! And Kim, are you ever coming home?

You Can't Always Get What You Want . . .

So when I was six years old, planning my birthday party for turning seven, I told my mother that in addition to Pin-the-Tale-on-the-Donkey and Musical Chairs, I wanted to have a  Go-Go dancing contest. I wanted her friend Marta, a real live Go-Go Dancer (and married to Billy Mac, my favorite guitar player) to be the judge of the contest at my very first birthday party with school friends. She agreed and we sent the invitations to all of my first grade friends. It was February of 1969.  My hippie folks totally were on to the latest in Rock-n-Roll, including the British Invasion.

The day of the party arrived. Marta was in attendance, I can't remember if she was wearing Go-Go boots. But she had the biggest grin in the whole world and her hair was impossibly long and really straight, not completely unlike my incredibly short, yet impossibly straight blond hair. My mother has enviable curly red hair. When I told the two of them that the song for the Go-Go contest would be "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by the Rolling Stones from the newest album in our house, Let It Bleed, . . .

They laughed . . . . out loud . . .  in my face.

"It's a power ballad. You can't Go-Go dance to that!" they exclaimed.

I am the oldest child, first of the new generation of my family, and had cut my teeth on The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, and The Grateful Dead.

"Well maybe you can't dance to it, but I can," I dared the  fearful grown-ups.

Needless to say, I won the dance contest. But that was also the day that I learned that the birthday girl hosting the party doesn't get to win any of her own contests. So the second place girl, who didn't even know how to shimmy, took first place honors. All to the tune of You Can't Always Get What You Want.

My first lesson in Irony.

This song and The Rolling Stones have been a gospel theme throughout my life. My older son, Arthur, went to his first big concert with my husband, Dale, at 13 years old. They went to Steve Miller. That's another wonderful story.

For Joren's (our younger son's) 13th birthday, I took him to The Rolling Stones. It didn't happen until closer to his 15th birthday (see title of post) but it was no less significant. I warned him that we were about to witness a bunch of skinny old Brits put on a show that would be amazing and memorable for the rest of his life. I warned him that Mick Jagger was the same age as his maternal grandmother and that Tina Turner taught him how to dance.

The Stones have the capacity to drive me off my ass and into dancing where ever I may be. They are ultimate performers, especially Jagger and Richards. Amazing. They did not disappoint. Joren realized that I dance like a maniac, whether I've been drinking or not. I think he finally let go of his vertigo from our nosebleed seats when he realized that I was sober and disinclined to join the drunk mob lurching toward the balcony to get a better view. He even relaxed enough to dance and laugh a little himself, caught up in the Stones' showmanship.

When Glee pulled that one out of their asses tonight, I wept. How can the message not be lost.

I love Rock-n-Roll (apologies to Joan Jett) and God Bless the Stones. I can't wait for Glee to start back up in the Spring. What an amazing show. Perfect for a former show choir parent weening herself from high school competitions.

Just in case you are clueless of curious, the lyrics follow. Most of us focus on the chorus. Jagger often changes the verses to fit his mood and experience at live performances.

YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT

(M. Jagger/K. Richards)

Choir:

I saw her today at a reception
A glass of wine in her hand
I knew she would meet her connection
At her feet was her footloose man
No, you can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
And if you try sometime you find
You get what you need

I saw her today at the reception
A glass of wine in her hand
I knew she was gonna meet her connection
At her feet was, footloose man

You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes, well you might find
You get what you need

Oh yea-ay (hey-hey-hey, oooh)

And I went down to the demonstration
To get my fair share of abuse
Singin', 'We're gonna vent our frustration
If we don't, we're gonna blow a 50-amp fuse'

Sing it to me, now
(You can't always get what you want)
(You can't always get what you want)
(You can't always get what you want)
But if you try sometimes, well you just might find
You get what you need

Ooh baby, yeah, ooh

I went down to the Chelsea drugstore
To get your prescription filled
I was standin' in line with Mr. Jimmy
A-man, did he look pretty ill
We decided that we would have a soda
My favorite flavor, cherry red
I sung my song to Mr. Jimmy
Yeah, and he said one word to me, and that was 'dead'
I said to him

(You can't always get what you want) well no!
(You can't always get what you want) tell ya baby
(You can't always get what you want) no
But if you try sometimes, you just might find, mmm!
Mmm! you get what you need

Ooh yes! Woo!
(Instrumental & choir) Ooow-ooh!

You get what you need
Yeah!
Ooow, babe!

Ooh, yeah!
I saw her today at the reception
In her glass was a bleeding man
She was practiced at the art of deception
Well, I could tell by her blood-stained hands

Say it!

(You can't always get what you want) yeah!
(You can't always get a-what you want) ooo-yeah, baby!
(You can't always get a-what you want)
But if you try sometime, you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need

Ooh, yeah!

Ooh, baby!

Woo!

Ah, you can't always get a-what you want
No, no baby
You can't always get a-what you want
Tellin' you right now
You can't always get what you want, mmm!
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find, that ya
Get what you need
Oooh, yeah!

I'm tellin' the truth, babe

Ooow-ooh!
Ooow-ooh!
Ooow-ooh!........

(Instrumental & choir to end fade)