April What?

The month of showers is upon the land and people will start to get restless, echoing the essential upheaval of Spring. The pollen in the air will soon tickle the cilia, and those who don’t inure themselves with cigarettes will reap its full blessing, whatever that is. Reproduction is the motivation behind this arc of the cycle, and some will take that impulse too literally. And yet others will channel it into strange and sundry activities, which will be on display all over town.

Breathe in deep and absorb the fecundity- for within time the simmering, sweltering, languid heat of summer will lay like a heavy wool blanket over your spirit and make you careless.

And so it is that this first day of April is a holiday. It’s been given an ignoble name- with a message of playful warning. Suppose this was the birth of the God of Mischief. How would you choose to honor that event? Would you do a head count of your friends, taking care to plan a surprise for every one of them? Or would you alternatively plot to release your demons in what appears to be a temporarily acceptable manner? Which of these would make you the fool, and who would be fooled?

Take a moment to consider that the number of The Fool is often said to be “0”, the value itself a great cosmic joke causing much consternation. But remember too that this figure is Major Arcana, and thus has multiple faces. (S)he is alternatively a jester, a mad man, a vagabond, and a beggar. (S)he may carry roses or a bindle… may be pursued by a cat or a dog, and situated between judgment and the world. Even in modern translation, this joker is most often a wild card. If you play a game with “trumps”, the Fool is an excuse for not following suit.

Apparently April 1st is a day of sanctioned irreverence. Perhaps we can indulge ourselves a bit. Bereft of reason, The Fool stands at the edge of a precipice, and risks a long slide or heavy collision, depending on the nature of the fall. And yet… and yet… perhaps (s)he will sprout wings (or a parachute) and attain smooth landing. The spirit seeking experience has earned the chance to risk a leap of faith.

And so we return to this day, year after year, and people give themselves the permission to act out their scripts. But just as with jokes, there is a seed of truth embedded in every trick. Perhaps it’s wise to pay close attention to deflection, obscuration and diversion- for likely there is someone sizing you up and spinning a web. Pay attention to the signs along the road. The Fool’s Journey can be many things, but don’t be shocked or embarrassed if you find yourself rendered naked in front of the eyes of the World.

Pog Mi Hone, Shilaeli Huggers.

Woo-hoo... it's St. Patrick's Day, and I don't give a good goddamn. It's not like I have anything specifically against the Irish, whether or not they are flame-topped or raven-haired. I've known some fun ones, and had an evening or two tippling with the leprechauns. So sure... why not? Erin-freakin'-go-braugh. If you need an easy excuse to get pissed, then have at it. Just don't forget to eat your taters before you do. I don't want to be plagued by the smell of vomit wherever you choose to do your reveling. And keep your little fists by your side, because when I go out I like to kick back and relax. I'm not looking to get inadvertently spat upon, or wet down by the whiskey-soaked sweat flying off of your reddened face.

But while we are on the subject of this all-important day, why don't you help me figure out why I should care about your tribal ceremonies? Why don't you explain why people here in the 'Burgh act as if it is some type of national holiday? You're the only white clan that tries to make a big deal of your special day. Inevitably some mick is going to ask me why I'm not wearing green, as if I've committed some type of Lenten slur. When I respond that I'm not Irish, I almost unfailingly hear the retort- "No, you know that everyone is Irish today". What gives? Is it like being birthed from a Hebrew pussy? Do I not have a choice in my affiliations? Do I have to do a riverdance once a year during March?

Here in Pittsburgh we don't get a hard-on for Black History Month, or Columbus, or even Fasnacht Day (look it the hell up, ignoramus). Yet we have to close downtown on a perfectly nice Saturday just to let drunks parade through the streets. And as if that wasn't enough, our favorite bars are jam-packed with idiots and airheads with ridiculous hats for at least twenty minutes during the evening, as they make their way through their insane bar-crawls. Can't we simply merge this nonsense with some Steeler Sunday? That way we don't have to waste a prime time night on a bunch of irritatingly exuberant weekend warriors. Actually, there are plenty of pubs where they like this sort of thing- drink your crappy green beer and cheap blended bracken water elsewhere.

Alas, maybe I am being a bit unfair. After all they aren't a universally bad-looking bunch. One-in-ten might actually serve as a crude sort of eye candy. And they've certainly had a big impact on the region. David Lawrence, Frank J. Gallagher, Tom Murphy, Bob O'Connor, Dan Rooney (Obama's Ambassador to Ireland, fer Christ's-sake!), Luke Ravenstahl- the list of prominent Irish local politicos is seemingly never ending. Hell, the Scots-Irish made Appalachia what it is today, in all it's four-leafed clover glory. Of course that becomes a dubious honor when one has a close look at the back roads of West Virginia and Kentucky... but what the hell. Let your freak flag fly high today.

Never mind that they've already despoiled downtown (in what has been reported as the nation's second-largest annual celebration of the homeland). Most of the drunk drivers have already been released from county by now. But I imagine they still have something left in their tank. They've gotten their fortification through their fried fish sandwiches, deviled crabs, and hardboiled eggs. Tonight you are sure to hear, "let's do a freakin' Car Bomb!!!" That's a cry that is rather appropriately uttered by this class of folk, especially those from the Northern part of the island across the sea. The rock-bottom truth is that I like all of you fine. And at least the stench of garlic is absent until St. Joseph's Day.

Don't get it in my eye...

Today is "Ash Wednesday", the observation day for a ritual that has always (quite frankly) freaked me out. It's easy to wonder why folks would want to walk around with the residue of ashes on their foreheads, especially when it is applied to make the sign of a long-past sacrifice. That in itself speaks to the mystery of our modern condition. So many people venerate a symbol of capital punishment. But this wasn't just any execution, was it? This brand represents the material death of a figure that many people now consider their savior. This is a puzzle that you can unravel to expose a chain of associations that stretches to infinity. Still, I think it's important to take a step back and think about it all pragmatically.

This day kicks off Lent, a period of abstinence that ends on Easter, which brings about the symbolic return of the aforementioned savior. This resurrection (if you will) marks the official formation of "the Church". But that's getting ahead of ourselves. The essential question is, "Why celebrate the death on Earth of a righteous man, condemned for others' sins, and made to suffer agonies that are ironically referred to as 'The Passion'?" It kind of sets a precedent for a society built upon obliteration. The historical Jesus is said to have performed many miracles before meeting his end at the age of 33 (?)... imagine what he might have done if he had lived to a ripe old age.

If The Christ could turn water into wine by his early 30's, think about the wondrous tricks he could have performed in "middle age". Perhaps he could have written his own books instead of having his followers (many of whom had never even met him) do it for him. We can only imagine that Word made flesh. Yet that wouldn't have suited the narrative. His public demise was necessary as an instrument of control for all of those who lived in his midst. People needed to learn to atone for their indulgences. What would you have done with a man who made folks aware that they were already part of "God"? That's way too empowering for the flock- better a dead shepherd than a liberator, right?

Now we are told that a "Day of Reckoning" is at hand. We will all have our turn to be judged. However, we won't be evaluated based upon our Earthly deeds. "Our Father" will determine our fealty to the message. Did Jesus die for you? Was his agony on that cross necessary to cleanse you of your "sin" (never mind if it is sufficient, because that's an entirely different subject)? Can you get a pass that easily? Today you will see lots of people who believe that they can. Their foreheads will be marked quite conspicuously. They'll make a concerted effort not to eat meat on Fridays, or they'll quit looking at porn, or make some other kind of great sacrifice. This will signify their awareness of the "need for redemption".

Anyway... it's all very strange in a mytho-poetical way. I only have the vaguest recollections of all of this ritualized behavior. I suppose that the faithful line up in front of the proxy (or priest, minister, and/or pastor) to be blessed with the charred remains of year-old palm leaves. This all sounds shamanic to me. There are certainly pre-historical antecedents for this type of behavior. But even more bizarre is the addition of "Oil of the Catechumens" to the ashy mix. What is it and what's with it? A "catechumen" is someone who is undergoing preparation to be baptized. At least that's what Wikipedia says. Yet I can't for the life of me figure out what the oil is made out of, or made from*. It's another mystery.


* Besides olive oil... that much I could find out.

The Vagaries of Gift Exchange.

Getting presents as an adult is often a strange and complex affair. In fact, whenever I think about it with any sort of focused energy, the entire idea of gift exchange is a bit confounding. In the United States, we tend to commodify* everything, translating it into a value expressed in terms of the dollar. When considering what types of presents we will be handing out during the holiday, many of us figure out a budget that accounts for how much we can afford to spend. M. and I work out basic parameters ahead of time so that neither of us feel guilty about any exchange inequity. Perhaps its odd that we take such a pragmatic approach to the tradition. It certainly makes rational sense, but what else does it suggest?

From the very basic background in anthropology that I acquired at university, I'm aware that cultures have been participating in gift-giving for thousands of years. The quality and spirit of such transactions differ widely. Among members of indigenous American tribes, it was expected that high-ranking members of each neighboring group would preside over ceremonies during which gifts were offered. This interaction was highly-structured, and the choices that were made often affected the future relations between the tribes. There was such subtlety of interpretation that a wide spectrum of messages, ranging from honor to insult with everything in between, could be conveyed in a ritualized fashion.

Although it's often not as conscious for us as it was for the Native Americans, we still follow implicit rules when we engage in gift exchange. Sometimes the rules are spelled out explicitly. For example, my in-laws decided years ago that it made sense to have a pool of gifts, rather than for everyone to buy separately for each member of the extended family. On its surface, this appears to be an almost entirely economic choice. At the same time, it relieves a bit of pressure from harried individuals trying to prepare for the holiday experience. One need not put quite as much thought into finding appropriate material gestures for people you don't see all that often. And that can be a relief.

On the other hand, the nature of a general exchange presents its own difficulties. How do you determine who gets what? Everything goes in a big pile, and divvied up according to one method or another. In M.'s family, an additional wrinkle has been added. Along with a "real" gift (purchased for an amount agreed upon beforehand), each participant is expected to find a "gag" gift as well. Everyone brings one of each, without in any way tipping his/her hand, and identifying which is which. Then lots are drawn and distribution begins randomly. That would be fairly straightforward, but another twist is yet added. Another round of numbers are drawn, and people can choose to take desired objects away from others, leaving them with unwanted items in exchange.

At that point, the "gift exchange" becomes something altogether different. It is now a contest to see who can go home with the "best" items. Obviously tastes vary among the players, and therefore the more idiosyncratic folks have the best chance of going home with whatever thing they covet. Mercifully, there is a stipulation that everybody gets to take possession of one "real" gift. However, subjectivity naturally plays a big role in determining what that means. In the processes of exchange and appropriation, personalities reveal themselves. It's at that point that the essence of the season tends to get either distorted, or emphasized, depending upon your personal frame-of-reference.

* It's a bit ironic that the Blogger spell-check doesn't recognize this word.

Steppin' Out During the Holidays.

The year is coming to a close and people are starting to firm up their holiday plans. Things get strange around town during this time. First of all, you never know who you might run into. That element of surprise adds an extra touch of entertainment for those of us who have lived in the city for a long time. Folks make their annual trips to see their relatives, and cast about aimlessly whenever they get a night to themselves. If you have a favorite spot, expect its flavor to be (at least) subtly altered during the next week-and-a-half. There will likely be a lot of unfamiliar faces. Some will be a bit disconcerted by what they see as a strange invasion, but I always enjoy this time of year for its relative unpredictability.

Another phenomenon during the holidays is the urge for the Burgh's visitors to get away from family members that they find a bit difficult to connect with. Feelings such as impatience tinged with guilt and other strange ingredients can make people act especially odd once they make their temporary escape. Along with the energy many people bring to reunions with old friends, such factors can add a surreal sense to one's evening. Familial recovery seems to be a prevailing motive for venturing out in the first place. When night-crawlers get out of their comfort zone, they can act pretty weird. Expect to see a lot of effusive melodrama, along with the usual panoply of oblivious revelers.

As far as specific tips, I don't have much to offer you for this weekend. A band called "Paramount Styles" is playing down at the 31st Pub (Friday @ 9PM, $8). Apparently it features the frontman from the now defunct 90's indie-grunge/post-punk outfit Girls vs. Boys. I saw that band on the second stage of some long-past Lollapallooza. I enjoyed them as well as the other acts that performed that day (which included the Flaming Lips). Opening up for this new outfit are the Karl Hendrick Trio and something called Broughtons Rules (a group that reportedly combines former members of both Don Caballero and Blunderbuss). Overall this seems like an interesting bill. I don't go see much live music anymore, but I'm considering this event.

Meanwhile, the Zombo Gallery is rolling out its opening reception (Friday, from 6-11PM) for a "Ukulele Show". Not only will there be live entertainment from the region's greatest players of this seemingly silly little instrument, but Pittsburgh visual artists have actually customized their own undersized string objects as well. Perhaps you aren't acquainted with the extraordinary range of music styles that can emanate from the ukulele. If so, you and I are in the same boat. Still I can tell you that I have seen local musician Liz Hammond strut her stuff with one in hand, and I don't mind suggesting that it was worth the trouble. God only knows what others are capable of with these things.

On Saturday, the only art-related event I can recommend is an opening reception at Panza Gallery (6-9PM, 115 Sedgwick Street in Millvale) for painter Jack Baker and his new series, entitled RoBodyCa. I got a recent sneak preview of some of the artist's work while waiting for one of the establishment's weekly figure drawing sessions to begin. This stuff is alien and faintly disturbing, employing an odd amalgamation of cubism and sci-fi illustration to portray disjointed naked women. Baker's palette is exceptionally cold, adding to the discomfort invoked in the viewer. It's not necessarily in the spirit of Xmas, but it certainly is seasonal. Temper the joy and then go have a drink.

A Failure of Compassion.

This is the time of year to think about the better qualities of humanity, such as charity and compassion. The problem is that some of us tend to get pretty depressed when we make an objective assessment of ourselves regarding these traits. I have extended family that I would rate very high on these factors. They are conscientious people who make significant efforts to consider the plights of those less fortunate than them. They organize benefits to address social ills, and invite people to their houses to participate in doing something good. These affairs not only bring local folks together, but they also contribute to meeting the vast needs of the poor and downtrodden. Mostly I admire them for doing something to help.

With Christmas coming, my in-laws are now trying to rethink traditions. Every year we have a gift exchange, and each person goes home with something that someone else brought. We set a money limit and even run a concurrent gag trade. This is not an uncommon practice, and saves us from having to buy presents for each individual separately. It also gives us something to do on the 24th of December. But this time around, my sister-in-law came up with an alternative suggestion. She sent out an e-mail documenting some of the terrible conditions that others face in third world countries. Her idea was that we skip the exchange this year, and donate the money we would have spent to the charity of our choice.

Obviously the birth of Christ should be celebrated with actions that run deeper than a consumerist orgy of spending. If we were truly honest in our faith and respect for the Son-of-God, we might strive to follow his philosophy and give to the less unfortunate. However this threatens to take the fun out of Xmas. Let's face it- we get a charge from taking home luxury items that we didn't buy ourselves, especially when we didn't even ask for them. Why would we give up these time-honored activities? Sure, there are people starving somewhere, but is that our problem? Don't we have enough to concern ourselves with during this period of economic downturn? Don't we have a responsibility to go out and shop in order to "save our nation"?

I'll freely admit that I'm not particularly charitable. I don't spend a lot of time thinking about the destitute and disease-afflicted in far flung lands. I won't even give pocket change to homeless Americans nowadays. At some level my perspective can be distilled to "better them than me". I'm not proud of that, yet I can't defend self-deception. I've said it before and I'll repeat it... humans aren't that special. They have no innate right to survival at the expense of other living creatures. And we perpetuate our survival by exploiting the Earth and all of its inhabitants. That's just the way it is. If I participate in sending food to a region that can't support its current population, who exactly am I serving?

And yet... my lack of so-called "humanity" occasionally gnaws at me. That's why, against my better instincts, I never bitch about paying taxes. I realize that a lot of that money goes into the pockets of corrupt and greedy politicians, and more of it feeds monolithic corporate interests, but at least there's a minimal amount being diverted to assist fellow citizens. I'm glad that there are people willing to sacrifice their time, resources, and energy to improve the lives of others. That type of self-abnegation is truly noble. I'm not going to fool myself- if I wasn't forced into this secular tithing (or is it more appropriately trithing?), I'd be more than happy to sock that money away. But when it comes to the holidays, I'm more likely to defend the status quo.

The Faithful, The Damned, and The Hip.

Are you stumped about what to get that idiosyncratic relative for the holidays? Do you know someone who has everything, and therefore leaves you puzzling over an appropriate gift every year? Maybe you should consider the spirit of the season and buy a bible. Sure, it's likely that everyone who wants one already has his/her needs covered. But how about the folks who have never seen the need? Remember, this famous book isn't just about personal faith, but also about lifestyle, politics, and history. You wouldn't be the first person in America to believe that the Bible is irrelevant, only to find that it snuck up behind you and bit your ass. Its words lurk in some truly odd places, including courthouses throughout the Deep South.

Why should you be the one person taken by surprise when the holy word rears its awesome head? Perhaps you've tried and cannot find any personal connection to it. After all, it was ostensibly written a couple thousand years ago (more or less). Who's to say that it isn't completely outdated? It could be that you've already tried to read it, and got stuck in that infamous early section where it starts tracing the lineage from Adam and Eve. That's understandable. Only a fanatic would be compelled to keep scanning those lines. In today's world, it seems that we only have time to devote to pursuits that directly affect us, or we're simply looking for mindless escapism. What's a truth seeker to do?

Fortunately for us modern sophisticates, others have anticipated our difficulty relating to the Old and New Testaments. King James got the ball rolling for many a contemporary reader, and other sects have since published their own versions. I've heard that you can even find an edition written in inner city slang. And why not? In this day and age you have to consider marketing demographics. Take for instance The Green Bible. After a hard day pounding metal chips into trees in our great forests, or ripping apart those plastic rings that hold together our six packs of Pabst, some among us may feel the need for some spiritual sustenance. But we want it in our language. Thus the need for an environmentally aware scripture.

The folks responsible for The Green Bible put it quite succinctly- "With over 1,000 references to the earth in the Bible, compared to 490 references to heaven and 530 references to love, the Bible carries a powerful message for the earth." After all, it is a numbers game, isn't it? This effort is dedicated to facilitating the growing "creation care" segment of evangelicals. Its editors have taken the helpful measure of highlighting (in green) the passages that may tie into environmentalism. While it may seem like an invitation to strange bedfellows, I'm happy to see publishers branch out. Anymore, one need not be a pagan to care about the biosystem. If you're not going to turn to science, what other options do you have?

And then there's Dag Söderberg, "project leader" for the glossy Swedish periodical, “Bible Illuminated, Gamla Testament: The Book.” He's created a magazine, aimed at the masses who are more likely to flip through a monthly left lying open on the coffee table. Söderberg and company have "sexed up" the Bible, breaking it up into easily-digested parts, and placing provocative images throughout. Luckily for those of us who are constrained to the English language, there are plans for a translation. There's even going to be a sequel... the New Testament is due to come out soon as well. Who says hipsters can't get down with the Holy Spirit? The Bible is not just for hypocritical fundamentalists anymore!

Paddles and Laughs.

It's remarkable how completely off-track I can get over a period of a week. I've built a lot of structure into my life, and make efforts to follow my routine with discipline and focus. Still one or two external factors can throw me, and the next thing I know I'm struggling with the basics. Such is the story of the last seven (or more) days. It started with the digestive malaise suffered by both Baby E. and I. I took off two days, alternating with M. Obviously his patterns differ from mine, and they aren't especially well known to me either. It was difficult for me to adapt to them. I was ready for a vacation, and when the holidays hit, I tried to take full advantage. Predictably this late-year cycle of observances carry with them their own traditions as well.

I spent a lot of time with a group of friends that are relatively new to me. There are challenges that come with getting to know new people, and I especially enjoy the novelty of engaging with them. It's fascinating to glimpse windows into personal histories and events that you have never been part of. Along with those discoveries comes an entire set of proclivities and interests that make up an individual. And then an entirely new dimension of association slowly develops, and you begin to form an understanding of the qualities of a developing relationship. What was once a stranger, a mere anonymous human being, slowly comes into focus. Those are invaluable experiences that sometimes reinforce existing neural pathways, and at other times burn new ones.

So the celebrations pass and new connections are formed under circumstances that encourage the conviviality of loosened inhibitions and a vague sense of a broadened community. Along the way you may very well find yourself doing things you had not anticipated. I went to a comedy show at Garfield Artworks, and supported the art of a new friend. I watched other folks performing for the sake of doing the thing they love. The conditions of the event did not suggest the pursuit of glory or adulation, but instead an intense commitment to participating in something altogether chosen, rather than required. They gave out free cupcakes. The audience voluntarily offered itself to the whims of the comedians on-stage. Fascinating.

And then a couple of nights ago I played a sport I hadn't even known existed- paddle tennis. The game has its roots in lower Manhattan, where an Episcopalian minister named Frank Peer Beal wanted to come up with new recreational activities for neighborhood children. He convinced the Parks and Recreations Department to erect courts in Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village (1915). Paddle Tennis was played with a de-pressurized tennis ball and a solid wooden racquet. Unlike regular tennis, serves are traditionally delivered underhand, the net is lower, and the court smaller. The fence surrounding the play is like chicken wire, and you can play the ball legally off its walls. It is most often played in doubles.

Technically the version that I tried was "platform tennis", which was invented in 1928 in Scarsdale, NY by James Cogswell and Fessenden Blanchard. Instead of being constructed on typical materials, its base is a raised platform made from corrugated aluminum. Underneath its surface is a heating mechanism that allows all-weather play. The heat melts any ice on the court and dries condensation. Because of this unique feature, the traditional season lasts from Fall through Winter. It's a game that emphasizes ball placement over sheer strength and speed. Still it gives you a pretty good workout, especially if you start at 10:45 on a Saturday night. It was at once frustrating and fun, and an altogether unexpected holiday diversion.

Thanksgiving (Even if it Kills Us).

So this is the third Thanksgiving blog post on Serendipity, and during the last two I tried to focus on positives. I'd certainly like to continue that tradition, but my cynicism is starting to preclude that type of sentiment. Still there's something to be said for making the attempt. While I see a sort of skewed wisdom in Charles Bukowski's epitaph, I don't feel that (at my age) it's worthwhile to hold him up as any king of role model. In the spirit of faith and fortune, I suppose I can find some things to be thankful for. And there's another component to this puzzle as well- despite the many problems and challenges that we (as a nation) are facing, we've got to be thankful for the run that we've had. Many of us have been extremely fortunate throughout our lives.

I don't want to be accused of being ungrateful. I am the benefactor of a system that has effectively exploited much of the world's population to live "well". I value the results of that exploitation. It's not that I don't have pangs of guilt now and again over the horrific conditions that people live under in the backwaters of the globe, but ultimately I must admit that it comes down to "better them than me". Think about all of the situations that you could have been born into. Imagine all the human beings that have existed throughout history, and consider the numbers. Work out the odds of you having been brought into existence in a country that has arguably been the sole superpower for decades.

I'm not sure that I am "proud" to be an American. On a few occasions I have had glimpses of what that feels like. However, I can say with complete assurance that I have been damned lucky to be a US citizen. I can be truly thankful for that. Past that, I am happy about the family situation that greeted my birth. I had a stable family that really didn't want for anything. It wasn't an upper-class situation, but relative to the rest of the populace, it was solid. I've had to work some crappy jobs, but those experiences were nothing compared to what the vast majority of the human race has gone through. I was able to take an undergraduate degree for granted, and I did so for several years. There was a sense of entitlement that informed my behavior.

Now I have a stable and secure job that should take me through the deflationary period that is coming. I have a good wife and a healthy son. I have a reasonable mortgage. If I step back and take stock objectively, I have to say that I've been blessed (interpret that however it fits into your personal life philosophy). I've been able to make the time to create art and write down my thoughts, and build an audience (no matter how small) for the product. There were a few years when I had money to spend on gratuitous items like DVDs, books, and camera equipment. And I have had some great friends over the years that have been willing to accompany me on my adventures. How could I not be thankful?

We are all in for a rough ride over the next decade (or more). It's time to take stock of what we've been given throughout our lives. Sure, there are some of you that are going to tell me that you earned it all... no one made your way for you. You know what I have to say to that? Fuck you. I hope you choke on your turkey. Don't be a rotten selfish prick. I'm not going to presume to tell you how to avoid it, but it's a worthwhile effort to make- just for a moment, expand your world view. I can't ask you to be charitable, as I don't relish being a complete hypocrite. But if it gets too hard to find the meaning of the day, try approaching it from a different angle altogether. Alright then... enough of my sanctimonious preaching. Enjoy the day.

The War on Christmas Continues.

Do you have any Christmas rituals that you participate in year-to-year? For me, Christmas Eve means one thing only- it's time to do my bit for the "War on Christmas". I don't know if you are aware of it, but there's been a long and bloody conflict being waged throughout this great nation for decades. The shock troops are geared up and ready, and both sides are digging in for the long and bloody annual siege. Yes, I am doing my part. I've been all around town today, engaging the enemy's front on the battle or words. Complete strangers have been firing salvos, and each time the dreaded words "Merry Christmas" wound me just a little bit more. All I can do is hunker down and return the attack with the most trusty weapon of all... I respond with "Happy Holidays", and then it's on.

Every year the great heroes are feted. The ever-expanding and evil empire of Walmart is abuzz with activity. The AM radio stations have their fight songs on a continuous loop- strains of melody extolling the battlefield legends like Santa and Christ fill the air. Formidable sums of money are spent in a frantic arms race to determine who exactly is the merriest of all. Tonight the city will grow quiet and the Christian soldiers will gather for their solemn ceremonies in the churches of all the great neighborhoods throughout the metropolis. They will fortify themselves with the words of their illustrious incense-bearing generals. They will cast their beady eyes around their ill-lit chambers, and see that there are strangers in their midst. Some of them will be wearing jeans, and that will be cause for alarm. It may occur to them that the enemy has infiltrated their camp. Still their resolve will be strong to carry their banner forever.

On the other side, Jews and atheists will be undermined by the insidious consumerism that each side will bemoan as the tactic of their enemy. There's often no way to tell who is who in this indeterminate and seemingly endless war. Some will even try to extricate themselves and stake a claim of neutrality. But they are fooling only themselves. There is no value-neutral path. You are either with us or against us. This message is broadcast in diverse ways, but is unmistakable. The propaganda machine is fueled by the fervor of the righteous. Half the houses in your town will be lit with the warm colors of festivity and energy consumption. You will have some mission to fulfill, as no one is left untouched by the madness of war. Some will seek to inure themselves from the pain by consuming spirits, while others will bravely make due with unadulterated egg nog or diet coke.

What marks this year as different from all those preceding it? Who are the bold foot soldiers who have distinguished themselves with true and mighty valor? In listening for dispatches from the militarized zone last week, I heard the inspiring story of a suburban man who has erected a 15-foot cross on his front lawn. Now this would not be particularly notable in this climate of terror, as many have seen fit to erect gaudy displays meant to honor their symbols of victory. But this cross has an unusual figure nailed to it- it is that fat and bearded jolly bastard Santa Claus. Reportedly his neighbors are divided on the meaning of this gesture. Could this be a message to both sides in this soul-depleting conflict? Should we continue to invest our resources in such a fruitless and divisive fight? Is it good for us? Is it good for the larger society? Must we continue until the other side is vanquished permanently?

Meanwhile Kevin Miller over at KDKA 1020 has been seeking to expand the sphere of conflict beyond its typical borders. Not content to merely decry the enemies of Christmas, he has taken it upon himself- not just to work on X-mas Eve, but to issue a new war cry for the traditionalists among his people. That's right, friends and neighbors. He has taken a bold and courageous step. He is calling for the return of "the dress". This holiday season (according to Miller) we should seize the spirit to return to the halcyon days of old. We should hearken back to the pure days of Eden, and remember the wise words of our Christian fathers- it is for the men to wear the pants in a family. There might be a role for women in The War on Christmas, but it is vitally important that they do their fighting in a dress. Otherwise they will never be "ladies".* And so it goes in our war-torn society.


* I swear to Santa that I'm not making this up.

In the Spirit of Thanksgiving.

In keeping with the intended spirit of the holiday, I've decided to try to express what I'm thankful for in my life. There were a string of topics I felt ready to comment on, but none of them seemed appropriate for this special day. Considering all the things I thought about saying made me realize just how jaded and cynical I often am. Much of the time I tend to generate a critical perspective rather than extolling the virtues of the things I appreciate. I suppose it's easy to get into that pattern. Sometimes it feels a lot more gratifying to complain about things that we'd like to see changed. It's a lot more difficult to stop and count our blessings, and express them without coming off as a sap. It's probably a valid question to ask why I feel an attitude of positivity is hard to convey without that 'danger'. Perhaps it's because so many of the the personal blessings I am thankful for actually represent the absence of things that I would perceive as negative.

For instance, I am grateful that I am not saddled with a horrible disease. I'm glad I have all of my limbs. I appreciate the fact that we haven't yet experienced a worldwide nuclear war. I consider it a blessing that we still live under the pretense that we can control our political fate. If there is a god, I thank him for the fact that George W. Bush will only be president for a little more than a year. I'm thankful that the United States hasn't invaded Iran (yet). I am lucky not to have been born in Rwanda. You see, there's really no end to the horrible possibilities that I can imagine. I'd like to extend my sincere and hearty thanks for all the bad things that haven't happened to me. But that's not really the point, is it? I guess I'm expected to frame my blessings in more positive terms. What do I actually HAVE that I feel thankful for?

OK... I can do this. I'll just simply make a list. My wife. The prospect of a child in the near future. My cats! My extended family. People who are willing to call me their friend. Validation for my artistic pursuits. Motivation, time and resources to create art. Anyone that actually reads this blog. My DVD collection (is it appropriate to be materialistic?). My books. Paintings and other artwork covering my walls. Having a piece in a NYC group show. A job that I don't hate. Weekends. Health insurance. My height. A car that takes me where I need and want to go. The Internet. Pittsburgh art galleries. Slim Cessna's Auto Club live twice a year. Extra large mochas with skim milk and half-ice. Live model drawing sessions. The Bill of Rights. Public education. The Brillo Box when it's not too crowded. A great city like Pittsburgh to live in. A creaky old house to call home.

From the profound to the profane, I have a lot of things to be thankful for. All of these things (and a lot more) make life meaningful and enjoyable. When I step back and try to get a measure of objectivity, I have to acknowledge that my life has been pretty good so far. I know I have things better than a large proportion of the world's population. So why is it that I have so much to say about the things I would like to see changed? I guess that ultimately I would like to see everyone enjoy the benefits I have. I'm not sure that it is realistic or good for the Earth, but there it is. It's hard not to get too selfish or demanding.

The big question is to whom or what I should direct my thanks. Scanning the list above, it's obvious that some of my gratitude has to go to others with whom I share my life. How often do I express my thanks to those folks? I can start by thanking you (the reader) right now. Beyond that, it gets a bit murky. Do I thank the United States? I have a lot of ambivalence about that. Would that entail all the people that lived before me that helped provide the opportunities I enjoy today? Or is it only specific individuals whom I am indebted to? What about "god"? Is there a higher being to thank? Did he/she/it put me in the place I am now? What about "nature"? Or maybe "the fates"? How abstract is that? Maybe for some things, I could even thank myself?! Or is that too self-congratulatory? These questions may obscure the entire conversation. So for now, I'll leave it to you to decide- for without the 'other', there is no communication at all. And that's what this is all about.

An Atypical Halloween.

It's officially Halloween... my favorite holiday of the entire year. This go around has not been nearly as enjoyable as years past. Part of the reason is that it falls in the middle of the week, and there's no clear weekend nights for the usual festivities. It seems the confusion about scheduling has made some people just give up, instead of planning parties. On an individual level, this year is clearly different because I am in the midst of an ugly labor conflict. That has put a damper on my spirits. We were explicitly told not to wear costumes out on the picket lines, for somewhat obvious reasons. The exact wording was, "This is not the time for "Holloweird". I'll admit that I was mildly offended by the disparaging connotations delivered by this cute little nickname.

Halloween simply doesn't get as much respect out there in the conservative exurbs as it does in the city. Areas with large populations of Christian conservatives are often quite hostile to the idea of celebrating the darker corners of life. In those parts witches represent Satan, and the typical traditions are insidious reminders of the world's pagan past. While it is certainly true that this time of year was honored with pagan festivals (refer to last year's Oct 31st post), the modern commercialization of Halloween has virtually nothing to do with age-old religions. It's merely a time to don silly costumes and gorge on candy (not that there's anything especially wrong with that).

But while much of the countryside may be rabidly anti-Halloween, when you run across a rural group that does enjoy the time of year- they tend to "do it up right". Perhaps the best time I've ever had at a Halloween attraction occurred in the general area of the school district where I now teach. It was advertised as a "haunted hayride", and I have to say that it truly delivered the goods. It was "not for kids". The tractor pulled us through the woods, past creepy fire-lit vignettes with live actors. Periodically monsters would jump out from the darkness of the trees and jump up on the flatbed. There was the sense all around us that we were being stalked by shadowy figures. The atmosphere was eerily effective. When we later reached a moonlit cornfield, we were surprised at a hidden clearing where hordes of zombies commenced to pursue us for a few hundred yards.

When the tractor eventually pulled up at a collection of connected barn-like structures, many of us thought our journey was over. Instead we entered a gloomy haunted house with more gory scenes set up in each room. The live actors were seriously unnerving, and attention was paid to every detail for maximum fright. As we meandered through, we continually expected the end to be around the next corner, or through the closest door. Finally we were told to exit through a crawl space, and we prepared to step out onto the fresh air of the night. Instead we were made to crawl around a hay-bale maze with many dead ends. It was naturally pitch black, and my companion began to show signs of acute claustrophobia. Her anxiety reached a fever pitch and started to wear on me as we got more and more frustrated and lost. Finally we were rescued by two giggling six year-olds who were joyously running through with flashlights.

Later on we decompressed at a trailer park bash, where we listened to heavy metal and passed around mason jars full of moonshine. Hooligans in flannel shirts pissed in the bonfire and looked for opportunities to get into meaningless scraps. It was a good ol' time. Nowadays I'm much more mature and adult-like. Tonight M. and I decided to avoid Trick or Treat, and went out to grab Mexican food. Our street seems to go to great lengths to get into the family spirit of Halloween. People put up elaborate decorations and pass out great amounts of candy. Teenagers that are way past the age to reasonably expect free sweets sullenly approach with their hands out. Even with our trip out to dinner, we probably saved about $25 by skipping out on the festivities. Next year we will probably be more sentimental with a kid in tow. I guess we'll have to wait and see.