Some Friends

My friend, Rogelio was taken into custody last week and is being held indefinitely for a court hearing. Yazmin and I tried unsuccessfully last week to visit him in prison. Today I saw him through that ridiculous glass as we spoke on the phones. The woman next to me was shouting so loudly at her boyfriend for stealing from her and doing crack, that I could hardly understand his dispossessed sorrowful words, "Es muy feo aqui. Muy feo. Se pelean por todo, por javon, por espacio, por nada. Pero yo he conocido a un dominicano que tiene una biblia. Leyemos juntos y oramos. Y regresamos a las camas. No tenemos mucho de comer." I taught him an English phrase, "this sucks." But he's had more time with the Lord this week than I have in perhaps the entire year...

I'm blessed by my neighbors. I had the most incredible conversation with Yazmin at Waffle House. For some reason, I couldn't communicate much of anything in Spanish today. But she didn't mind. We talked about her history. She told me how she left home at the age of 15 and married her husband-- no one from home knew for several months. He is eight years older than she, and they had some really rocky times in their relationship. She has always been honest with him, though. And she said often between 17 and 20 years old that she wanted to leave, that she didn't love him. But she had nowhere to go, and he did not force her to stay. But he lovingly talked her down when he could. When he couldn't talk her down, he waited.

It's been two years since she's spoken that way to him, especially not in front of her children. She became a Christian two weeks ago, and things have changed in her heart. She's been increasingly aware of how her negative talk about her situation has affected their children. I asked her if she loved Rudolfo. She said she thinks so. But she's not sure, even though she feels grateful to the Lord that he's a good man, and that they are good friends. She is confident that she will love him increasingly as she prays to love him.

My heart exalts in victory. A victory for my God. Praise the Lord.

Future Self: have mercy. All is done except
today. Look not so harshly on the person
of your youth, of your middle age, of your
elder years. Understand ignorance as a
seed, a sappling, a living thing pushing
up and letting change blow over it,
around it. Only you can understand the
journey to now. Sever not this tie!
Call me you! I am! I am!
Own me as you own yesterday, as I
own tomorrow, even owning myself.
And look to Him for the mercy I have
not. Look to Him, self, for the grace to
own the journey.

Lightyears Beyond Me: Derrida

The readability meter that Microsoft Word uses is Flesch-Kincaid grade level. Most of what I write, I've noticed, rates right around grade 9. The Flesch-Kincaid grade level for Jacques Derrida is 14.8.
Assuming my reading level is at most equal to my status as second semester college sophomore, I am still not quite old enough to read him. The fact is, I don't think I'll ever be old enough to read him. Average words per sentence = 41.

Spring Break Events: elongated laundry-list style

• Mom, Chelsea, my grandma, and I went to dinner to celebrate my grandpa's 77th birthday Friday night.
• Then I drove Mom and Chelsea home through a blinding rainstorm.
• Saturday and Sunday I visited with Stephen, Megan and Aida who came for the weekend! They are such a treat. It's true.
• I then crashed an ultimate frisbee game with people very much not my age. I miss playing regularly.
• And Kelly and Sladana and I had coffee and lovely conversation Sunday night.
• Mom and I returned to Lancaster Monday through the snowstorm.
• Joella, Rachel, Jess and I left Tuesday morning for North Carolina Beach State Park.
• Every night we froze and every day we slowly enjoyed our leisure. Notably, cypress trees are very beautiful, and Venus Fly Traps are not in season in early March. An RV camper walked by our campsite one morning and complimented our "heartiness" to sleep in a tent in such weather. Tuesday night was 22 degrees and our tent was of the summery, meshy version. Oh, Lord, thank you for the bathhouse! Rachel and I slept there that night.
• Today as I walked in the beautiful, 72 degree Pennsylvania weather, I met a lady named Valerie who was sitting and enjoying the weather, too. We talked for over an hour. She has lived an incredible life.
• Now, the rest of Spring break, I hope, will consist of finishing a paper, starting another, finishing a book, studying for Political Theory and working.

A Deli Tale: Steelers and Iron

Ferguson is the greatest living Steelers fan. He is also the drunkest living Steelers fan. He comes in most Friday nights, drunk, to order a cheesesteak. But he does not order just any cheesesteak. It is a "Steelers'cheesesteak!" He usually calls out "Go STEELERS!" several times after entering the deli. And the cooks in the back respond with a jovial, "Yeah!" "Steelers!!" or "That Roethlisberger!" When calling out his order, my coworkers have compelled me to call, "one Steelers' cheesesteak for here!" If one does not specify, he will not respond, or so I'm told.

Now, Andy and Cody come in at any time of the day or night to simply annoy us. They are my neighbors and my boss has made various deals with them which sort of exchange work with indefinite amounts of food. In keeping with this, they consider themselves borderline employees and take extra liberties as such. They make a racket while waiting for food, talk with customers with whom they are not acquainted, sell items from their school fundraisers, and generally disregard all of our censures when not given in an iron tone.

One night, Andy and Cody were waiting for their order of cheese fries. After twice telling them to keep away from the cash register, and step back from the ordering line, I was ready for more drastic measures. It so happened that Ferguson was preparing to order when I found Cody and Andy smugly angling near the register. That was it, the iron entered my voice, and I sternly called them out, "boys! If you continue to disobey my instructions I will call security! You are in a public place and you need to act like it!" They stepped back.

I looked back at Ferguson, ready to take his order, with an apologetic half-smile. He looked down, his scruffy beard wrinkling over his double chin. His bloodshot eyes looked a little shocked as he quietly ordered "just a cheesesteak." That was all. He did not yell toward the kitchen, he simply took his seat quietly, waiting for me to call out his order, at full attention.

I think Ferguson mistook my iron tone for scolding him instead of the boys, of whom he may or may not have taken notice. He has always been more subdued with me since then, though his jolly manner was greatly helped by the Superbowl results. In fact, he stopped ordering cheesesteaks after their victory, and has ordered grilled chicken sandwiches, to the great heartbreak of the cooks.

What to do on a Saturday night?

After work early Saturday evening, I was confronted with a mass of homework left undone for just that moment. So, naturally, I called Adriane and Tim to see if they were interested in going to Franklin and Marshall to watch Six Characters in Search of an Author. It's a really wonderful play that I've read and discussed--and is there anything better than going to see a play with which you're the least bit familiar? No. No there is not. But they were quite spent and couldn't come. So I asked another friend, who had in mind a quiet movie night at home, instead. So we watched a movie and I walked back late, half asleep, still thinking about having missed the play.

It's important to find people who will go to see thinking-type plays with you at a moment's notice. But if they're not available, it might be a better idea to just go alone, and not wish you had gone.

Dear "O": Wish you were here.

What happened to the "o" in manoeuver? We can't decide that some words will change for the sake of efficiency and others will remain uselessly difficult. Through and though come to mind. Superfluous letters are a mark of the English language. I embrace them. I miss them when they're gone.