Reading the Fine Print

Lately I have been reading a lot of fine print: financial aid forms for my daughter's college application; housing applications; print that is so small, I can't read it without a magnifying lens. Fine print, I suppose, is placed strategically in certain locations so that someone, somewhere, can be exonerated in case someone wants to sue.

But just to be fair, I think it's only right that parents be allowed to add some fine print of their own.

For example, on all of the large checks I'm going to be writing soon, I think I'll inscribe at the bottom in miniscule print: This check was written by a deranged father who wants to know how a week's worth of dormatory food costs $200. My teenage son doesn't even eat that much food in a week, and he's on a solid diet of caviar and veal.

Or another: This check will self-destruct in one semester!

Oh, and by the way, when I went to college, I was able to work part time and pay my way at the same time. Now I'm working full time, and I still can't pay the way for my daughter. Is it just me, or does somebody need to explain this--in the fine print, of course.

Best

I've noted that, in the past decade, business correspondence has taken on a decidedly cordial tone. Most of the business letters and emails I receive usually end with the now familiar "Best" or "All Best". The first time I noted this, I was left wondering:

Is the writer sending me his or her best wishes?
Is the writer wishing me good luck?
Is this the "best" he or she can write?

I'm not sure of the history and intent, so I never use this when I write business letters. But in case people are looking to get creative in how they close a letter, or truly want to express how they feel, why not try out a few of these alternative endings?

Hang in there,
Same old stuff,
Yours in boredom,
Yada, Yada, Yada,
Halfheartedly,
I'm just kidding,
On behalf of my lawyer,
In Buddhist Suffering,
Whatever,
With a Chuckle,
Nobody here cares,
The last straw,

Proverbs

I've got several reference books at home that contain thousands of proverbial sayings. Some are from the Bible, some from Shakespeare, others from Oscar Wilde or unknown sources. I grew up in a family where proverbs were used to communicate (usually ineffectively).

"If you make the bed, you'll have to sleep in it," was one of dad's. Of course, he was always trying to get me to change the sheets, so I don't think he understood the metaphorical implications. (For the record, I don't make the bed, which is why I often don't sleep in it.)

I use Biblical quotes on Becky all the time. "It is better to dwell on a rooftop than in a house with an angry and contentious woman," is one I quote frequently. She never laughs, and believe me, the shingles are really chaffing my behind.

And just today I read one from Emerson (he was the custodian at our high school who kept a bottle of gin in the closet): "A person who knows how do something will always have a job. The person who knows why the job is done will always be the boss." But then, Emerson thought he ran the high school, so what does he know? He was drunk half the time.

Heaven help me before the early bird catches the worm, after all, Rome wasn't built in a day, and this blog is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get.

Something Wicked

One of my favorite writers is Ray Bradbury--a writer who defies categorization. Last week I read one of his novels (one of four that has been selected as a National Book Award Classic). It's entitled, Something Wicked This Way Comes. It's about two boys who find themselves confronting radical evil when a strange carnival comes to town.

The story evokes memories that most boys have of childhood, the companionship, the adventure. I've probably read more than two hundred Bradbury stories over the last five years, and many of them visit these themes of childhood. Bradbury was one of those writers who accompanied me from the town library--a twice-a-week ritual for me during the summer months when I was in grade school. At the time, I think I read everything that Bradbury wrote, along with lots of Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke.

Now that I have no friends, reading Bradbury is like discovering that an old friend has returned to town.

But, Lord, I still get scared when I drive by the Saint Malachy carnival every year. It's not the Catholics that scare me, but the corndogs. I always wonder: How long have those puppies been sitting under the warming lamp?

The Boxer and Me

About ten years ago I received a phone call from a literary agent in New York who wanted to know if I would consider ghost writing a children's book for a famous boxer. Since I'd never ghost written anything before (and most celebrity books, by the way, are ghostwritten) I was hesitant, but nevertheless, intrigued.

"What's the book about?" I asked.
"Whoever is selected for the book will have to meet with this boxer and create an idea."
"Boxers have ideas?" I asked.
"This guy has a lot of ideas," she said.

Long story, short version--I didn't put my name in the hat, but I could have been fun. Who knows, I could have had my brains beaten in by George Foreman. And if I would have written a kid's book for him, I would have said, "Yes, George, whatever you say, George."

Incidently, I'm firing up his grill tonight. Anyone want burgers?

Old Man White Lick

A few years ago I read a book by Jonathan Rabin, a British writer, about his one man adventure down the mighty Mississippi in a fifteen foot johnboat. It was a great read and made me pine for such an adventure myself.

Fortunately, I have white lick creek. I've been down the creek twice in a kayak now and its a blast. Yesterday, Aaron Helman and I ventured a little further south and even started naming some of the rapids.

How does "Hell's Bridge" sound? Or "Helman's rapids"? They are there.
I think I'll keep kayaking as long as the water stays high. Might even preach a sermon out of the boat, like Jesus did. But I wonder, if I did it, would other pastors post blogs about it? Might be a bad thing to preach from a boat, or from moving water, or to attract attention in a craft purchased from Dick's Sporting goods.

The 12 Hour Sermon

Three years ago I preached a twelve hour sermon. Yesterday, Aaron Helman discovered several blogs that were less than complementary of the sermon (all written, I think, before I actually spoke). In a nutshell, here were the top three reasons the other pastors felt I should not have preached for twelve hours.

1. It was just a publicity stunt that makes a mockery of "good preaching."
2. I spoke for a long time but said nothing.
3. Preaching shouldn't be used to raise money for the church (and you shouldn't attempt to sell sermons on CD).

Now, here are my top three reasons why a person shouldn't preach a twelve hour sermon:

1. Afterwards, the throat is very sore.
2. You don't get to eat fish from the fish fry.
3. It takes a week to write a 12 hour sermon and mamma still ain't happy!