Happy Easter to all. I am here playing a seemingly infinite series of Solitaire games. Every now and then I open my Home Architect program and add a little something to a small Gothic house I started working on this morning. A novel I’ve been reading sits open on its spine, waiting to be picked up. But it’s a bit depressing. A novel I am writing waits somewhere behind the other windows on this computer screen. Mrs. Uppington has peed thrice and pooped once. I have consumed twenty-six cups of delicious hot coffee.

 

Dad called. He was coming. Now he is not. Or – that is, he is coming later in the week. The boys are with their mother. Elizabeth had threatened to stop by, but unless she wishes to give me a basket full of plastic grass and plastic eggs filled with jelly beans, she may not.

 

Easter. Now, I’ve been thinking. This being an election year, and religion being discussed as it relates to this candidate or that candidate, I have heard the word Christian defined in any number of ways having little or nothing to do with what it means. The word is often used as an adjective – i.e. this or that is a Christian way to think and/or behave, a usage with a long history behind it which, ironically, is most often used by non-Christians who wish to lecture Christians on how to think and how to behave. Not surprisingly, they would wish that Christians behaved in a way which is most convenient for them.

 

When the word Christian is used as a modifier it usually means following the Moral Code, but of course Christians didn’t create the Moral Code, nor do we hold a monopoly on its usage. The Ten Commandments was given to Moses many years before there was such a thing as a Christian per se, and traditions not arising from Abraham have very similar laws.

 

Can non-Christians live in accordance with moral law – perhaps even better than many Christians do? Of course they can. Within an entirely secular, or non-religious, context the virtues and manner of personal conduct most often described as being “Christian” can guide and inform the conscience of any man or woman.

 

But anyhooo, silly popular usages aside, Christianity isn’t a philosophy or a way of living. It’s not an adjective. It’s a religion. Christianity is really very simple to understand. There is a specific and finite list of things which one must believe in order to be a Christian, and this list of things is known as a Creed. In order to be a Christian a person must give assent to the Creed.

 

Giving assent doesn’t mean understanding, by the way. Thank God for that, or no one could be a Christian.

 

 

I tell non-Christians if they wish to know what Christians believe they really just need to read the Apostles’ Creed. That’s it, in black and white. Having read it, they never need to wonder again what Christians believe.

 

Christianity was founded by Jesus Christ, and Christians – according to our Creed – believe that Jesus Christ is God. Therefore, Christianity is a religion founded by God. I am ceaselessly bewildered when I hear it said, even by people who call themselves Christians, that religion is a man-made institution. Obviously, one who doesn’t believe in God must think of religion this way, and that’s fine. How else can he think of it? But, among those wishing to represent themselves as Christian it is another matter.

 

Certainly, Jews believe that Judaism was founded by God, not by man.

 

When I confront them with this argument they invariably say something to the effect of, “Oh well, you know what I mean.”

 

To which I say, “Well no, I don’t. Please explain.”

 

At the basis of their explanation is one of two things, - or both: that Jesus is not really God, and/or that Jesus did not actually found Christianity. In the first case they cannot actually be Christians. In the second case they may be giving assent to portions of the Creed, but not all of it. That happens.

 

What they are thinking is that religion exists somehow separately from Church, that religion is some sort of intangible floating thing the power of which is captured in some part by this church and in some part by that church – but perhaps not at all by that other church down the street. (We don’t like them, no.) But Jesus Christ left behind Him nothing except a Church. His teachings would be unknown today without His Church. He wrote nothing of His own, so everything we know Him to have said and taught, and done, was written down later by members of His Church.

 

Jesus Christ left a Church. There would be no Bible without the Church. There would be no memory at all that Jesus ever existed without the Church. There are many people who seem to believe we would somehow magically have the philosophical writings of the Greeks – Aristotle, Plato, et al. - at our disposal today without the Church preserving them. There are many people who believe that we would somehow magically have something resembling modern Science and Technology without the Church initiating it.

 

There are many people who somehow circumvent a thousand years or so in their thinking about history. We look at history and we ask, “Where did the Church fit into all of this?” Well, the answer is, without the Church there would be none of this. There may well be something, some kind of civilization, but nothing like the one we know. There may well be some train of human advancement which has chugged along these 2,000-plus years to reach a certain point today, but it certainly wouldn’t resemble the point we know.

 

So, Jesus did a great deal more than simply start a religion. His action, His life, the event of Jesus, set in motion trains of circumstance beyond reckoning in their influence. Empires were built and then destroyed, epic wars fought and won, and lost; cities built, music, Art, philosophies, cultures – all arising from a certain point in history that changed all of History.

 

But – more importantly, here is Mrs. Uppington. She and I have been discussing this and other topics today in between pees and poos and Gothic houses, and Solitaire games. It’s so easy to see here that she is a descendant of wolves, don’t you think?

 

 

I think I will have Ramen noodle soup for dinner. Mrs. Uppington has already expressed her preference for Alpo.

 

We are both thinking of you today - or, I am thinking of you and Mrs. Uppington is thinking of eating baby rabbits - but, in any event, Happy Easter, and good day to you.

 

 

 

Because of the Passion of Christ a civilization was founded in which Art developed and flourished. Here is "The Light of The World," Holman Hunt (1827-1910).

I get the impression that many people believe that the event of Christ over 2,000 years ago was just another in a series of events in a history which would have proceeded anyway, a piece of a civilization that would have happened anyway, but no. Among the vast multitude of things which simply would not exist without Christ is the United States. Among the vast number of things that simply would not exist without Christ is... you.

Anyhoo, there are two of these paintings, both in England. I've been to see them both. Well, golly I've seen a lot of stuff. It's no wonder time seems to fly by so quickly in middle age - or, in that still youthful period preceding it in which I am located in my journey home.

Now, I'll bet you were wondering what an $83,000 bookcase looks like, so here's one: 

This is a Roycroft bookcase which recently fetched that amount at an auction, and here is a Roycroft armchair. 

I was taken with a desire to just browse the web for images.

Well, on Good Friday, when I was a youngster, we took our meals standing up at the table. Scrambled eggs and toast it was. For lunch we probably had grilled cheese sandwiches. During the day we observed silence, particularly between noon and 3 p.m. It may seem austere, and that would be because it was austere, but my Good Fridays are among my fondest memories of childhood.

Recently I described growing up in my home at Christmastime. We had our Lenten traditions and our Holy Week traditions too, of course.

I can only tell my boys about it. They look at me like I'm deformed.

There doesn't seem to be much more on my mind this morning. Christ, Western Civilization, Victorian Arts, scrambled eggs, grilled cheese... yup, that's about it.

More will be revealed. Good day to you.

 

My son said, “You talk about Elizabeth too much.”

 

I said, “I don’t know anybody else.”

 

Well, it’s true – at least in the way of speaking (almost) every day and having a rapport. Of course tonight Mrs. Abigail Uppington is here with me – not the Fibber and Molly character – but, being a dog she doesn’t say a great deal that I can share with my son.

 

Yes, it’s that time of year again. My delightful little borrowed dog is here. I forgot about her. I thought I was coming home to an empty house, but no – there she was, needing to be walked, wagging her backside (where I assume her ancestors may have had an actual tail), and just filling my heart with love love love. It put a smile on my face.

 

So I asked him, “Before I started working with Elizabeth what did I talk about?”

 

He said, “Nothing. I don’t know.”

 

I know that he means that I should pick whichever response I prefer, either nothing or I don’t know. Teenagers talk like the menu at a Polynesian steakhouse – one from column A, two from column B. But in this case both may apply.

 

A few years ago it was quite different. I knew many people whom I saw on a daily or almost daily basis who said things and did things which were for whatever reason remarkable. The problem is that I had met them in Alcoholics Anonymous, and most of their life adventures were NC-17. Yes, and before that I knew mostly bar people. They were the same people really – maybe not specifically the same but rather like.

 

“Guess what, son? Mary woke up next to a dead 15 year-old crack head this morning. Oh we all laughed ‘till our sides split!”

 

Yes, when people first wander into AA meetings they are really in no way different than they were five minutes before. It took me a while to realize that in most groups the members are encouraged to actually recover and become human beings again. The group in my town is something of an experimental exception.

 

Well, what did I talk about? Nothing. I don’t know.

 

By golly, the kid’s right.

 

Sports – athletic competitions – I’ve written about this before: I don’t follow Sports. I would, I suppose, if they did for me what I can easily recognize they do for others. I’ve never been quite able to understand how to pretend an emotional connection on the outcome of a competition between persons I don’t know. But, last night the boys’ mother badgered me into filling out a spread sheet on the forthcoming college basketball woo-dee-hoo, and so I did.

 

Who did I pick? – I, who don’t follow Sports? Well, North Carolina. Duh. You see, as I was filling in all the boxes I began thinking – just making associations – and remembering all of the things that I had heard over the years about this team and that team, things that I would have treated as background noise at the time. For instance, I happen to know my little sister likes Duke. Why? God knows. But, remembering that detail allowed me to pick Duke over Purdue. In a way, I did it to honor my little sister.

 

Come to think of it, the boys’ mother likes Kentucky. Why? God knows. But, knowing that she would be the first one to see my sheet I figured I had better have them getting as far as the Regionals.

 

Well, here I see that George Mason is on the list. OK, so they’re not exactly top ranked, but Walter Williams teaches there and I like him, so…

 

Do you see? Do you see how it works? Having an interest in Sports is really a social activity – perhaps not entirely, but there is a strong social aspect to it. I suppose that Sports fans must develop their team spirit for a team composed of complete strangers in something like the same associative way.

 

And now I can remember being married to a woman who followed tennis. She had her favorite players. What made them her favorites? God knows. They were cute – whatever. She cared about who won a match, who lost a match. We went to matches. We went to bloody Wimbledon one year and watched doubles. We went to the U.S. Open. I cared because she cared. I rooted for her cute guys right along with her. But, without her what’s tennis to me? It’s less than nothing. I don’t even give it a thought. Until now, that is.

 

Movies are social. I love movies – or, that is to say I love remembering movies that I have already seen, but I am never gripped with a desire to watch a new movie in a darkened TV room or darkened cinema all by myself. Apparently, I don’t love movies as much as it sometimes seems I do.

 

The exception is watching them here on my computer while at the same time playing bloobs or Solitaire, or playing with one of my architect programs. At such times I seem to crave multi-tasking.

 

TV is social. How often do I sit down in front of a television alone? Actually, the answer to that question is once a week. I watch “The Journey Home” on EWTN on Monday nights, if I can remember. Otherwise? Otherwise, my son has to call me in to view something with him. I’m usually asleep within ten or fifteen minutes.

 

Food is social. I used to cook. Now I eat for survival. Food hasn’t really lost its flavor, but I’ve lost interest in the flavor of food.

 

So that leaves me with reading – which I suppose must be non-social, and when it becomes an obsession perhaps even anti-social – and listening to music. Now, you would think the music would also be social, but for whatever reason, perhaps because it transports me so perfectly out of myself, I seem able to appreciate it best without the distraction of other people being around.

 

So, at last I asked my son, “Didn’t I talk about books I was reading, or perhaps music I liked?”

 

He thought about that for a minute, and then he said, “Yeah, probably.” That was as close as I was going to get to a definite answer. It may not be as satisfying as full meal but it is at least a decent appetizer – perhaps a pu-pu platter.

 

Later he asked me to watch some TV with him, and so I did. After about ten minutes I began drifting off into a pleasant semi-consciousness. He suddenly said, “Hey, you know Elizabeth told me about this guy on the National Geographic Channel…” and stopped himself in mid-sentence. I was giving him the look.

 

I don’t know what my look must look like, but every father has one.

 

  

Molly comes home minus one car fender. It's a nice sketch. There are a few twists on the usual running gags. You gotta love that Guildersleeve. He's so helpful to damsels in distress. No mention of running boards, though - since the story features the McGee's car. The usual gag is it's the only car in Wistful Vista with running boards. That would mean it's old.

Oh have I got a dream to tell you about! Holy schmack. I was at the Little Dump on the Praire, where I used to live, working for my old landlady...

A dead deer hung in one tree, a dead wild pig in another. They were animal sacrifices, I guess. Let's see, she had her lawyer there. She was always suing somebody. Do you know anybody like that? I'm sure you do.

There was a fire ring, some burned out something-or-others that are traditionally used to summon nameless Evils from before time. You know - the usual.

I don't feel like telling this one now. Maybe tomorrow. Yes, I know there was no "Suspense!" this week. We're a couple of weeks ahead of schedule on FM&M too. Do you hear Harlow talking about how it's April 1st in the opening pitch?

Well, let's pretend it is April 1st. Let's pretend it's not blowing snow outside. Come to think of it, around here it could be blowing snow in May... Rambling... blah blah...

Bye-bye. Enjoy the show.