For the record, I have never seen Man of La Mancha or read Don Quixote. My friend Ralph told me the story of Don Quixote and Dulcinea a few weeks ago. He is a great storyteller. While he was telling me the story I realized that there may be at least one person to whom I am Dulcinea, though, because I am Aldonza and not Dulcinea, because I am broken and can see only the broken parts of me, I do not know it.
You know, it's a God story.
In quoting Don Quixote, Ralph said, "Why, I just want to call you what you are. You are my lady, my Dulcinea."
What you are.
In school they tell you to be yourself. Not to give in to peer pressure. But everyone wants to be Cool. Sooner or later, though, people like me discover that they are not cool and they begin to live with it and they call it being who they are. But who I am is Dulcinea. I just don't see it. So in all this being who I am I have missed out on being who I really am. Does that make sense? Of course that doesn't make sense.
I am not as bad as I think I am. To someone, at least to One, I am Dulcinea. And it is not that He sees me as Dulcinea. It is not merely His perception of me. It is who I am.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Donald Eugene
This evening after work I drove the short jaunt to my grandparents' house for dinner, as I have every Tuesday this summer. As I sat down at the table, my grandfather began telling this joke:
My grandpa tells these jokes all the time. They're ridiculous. His delivery has gotten a little rusty over the years, but he always has a corny joke when I come over. It occurred to me today over pork cutlets and mashed potatoes that I hope to be something a little like him someday. He's had 2 heart attacks (his first at age 39), 2 open heart surgeries, and now has an electronic defibrilator in his heart. He got married right after high school to my grandmother, never went to college, and retired from a huge aircraft company that probably didn't care much about him. But, and I can't really say this without sounding demeaning, he is simple. Not that he is not intelligent, because he is. But all it takes is a corny joke or a hug or a conversation about golf or baseball to really make him light up. My grandmother drives him crazy - she drives everyone crazy - but he never mentions it or shows it. He loves her. Today I saw a small light in his eye when he made a silly comment as he cleared our dishes from the table and I wondered what Donald Eugene must have looked like when my grandmother married him. A small, skinny kid with dark hair and blue eyes and an easy smile.
I guess, when all is said and done, he is selfless in his own way. His "self" is his job at the golf course, his love of baseball, and his family. There are a lot of days that he doesn't feel well. He worries when that happens. But I don't think a day goes by that he is not really content. I think maybe that's what we're all trying to find.
So there was this woman, she was 50 years old, and she had a heart attack. And she's laying in the hospital, it's hard to breathe, she's in a lot of pain, and she looks up at the heavens and says, "God? Is this it?"
Suddenly she hears a voice from the sky telling her, "No, Susan. You have 40 more years to live." So Susan is thrilled to hear this and in about a week she starts feeling better and leaves the hospital. She gets the full works of plastic surgery, tummy tuck, face lift, everything and she looks great. The next day she was driving down the street, got in a car accident and died. Later on when she was up in heaven, she was talking to God and asked Him, "What happened? I thought you said I had 40 more years."
And God said, "Oh that's right! Well, Susan, I didn't recognize you."
My grandpa tells these jokes all the time. They're ridiculous. His delivery has gotten a little rusty over the years, but he always has a corny joke when I come over. It occurred to me today over pork cutlets and mashed potatoes that I hope to be something a little like him someday. He's had 2 heart attacks (his first at age 39), 2 open heart surgeries, and now has an electronic defibrilator in his heart. He got married right after high school to my grandmother, never went to college, and retired from a huge aircraft company that probably didn't care much about him. But, and I can't really say this without sounding demeaning, he is simple. Not that he is not intelligent, because he is. But all it takes is a corny joke or a hug or a conversation about golf or baseball to really make him light up. My grandmother drives him crazy - she drives everyone crazy - but he never mentions it or shows it. He loves her. Today I saw a small light in his eye when he made a silly comment as he cleared our dishes from the table and I wondered what Donald Eugene must have looked like when my grandmother married him. A small, skinny kid with dark hair and blue eyes and an easy smile.
I guess, when all is said and done, he is selfless in his own way. His "self" is his job at the golf course, his love of baseball, and his family. There are a lot of days that he doesn't feel well. He worries when that happens. But I don't think a day goes by that he is not really content. I think maybe that's what we're all trying to find.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
PrideFest STL
On Sunday I went on an expedition that I thought would be a little more eye-opening than it was. At least, it wasn't eye-opening in the way I expected it to be.
Late Sunday afternoon as the all-day St. Louis clouds were finally clearing - just as my father and I were getting home from our damp motorcyle ride - I cleaned up and drove over to my best friend's house. She quickly hopped in my car and we were off to Tower Grove Park. We were headed to what we thought would be a pretty culturally shocking experience, though we had braced ourselves for it. We were headed to PrideFest. Specifically, the 29th Annual St. Louis PrideFest.
We thought PrideFest would be interesting because, primarily, we are both heterosexual. I entered the park with the idea, and maybe the hope, that there would be many other straight people there, and that these individuals would be wearing some sort of stickers or hats or sandwich boards which read, "Hey! I'm straight too! Let's be out-of-place together!" No such luck. But I didn't feel uncomfortable for a second while I was there for almost two hours. My best friend and I wandered around the many tents, admiring the rainbow decorations, speculating about all the churches with little booths set up, and sometimes blushing at some of the raunchy merchandise being sold.
Then, at 20 minutes past 6:00 PM, we settled down by the stage for the reason we were there - a free concert given by Gregory Douglass, an openly gay singer/songwriter from Burlington, Vermont who I happen to adore. My best friend was lukewarm but she was a trooper for enduring my girlish excitement during the whole thing. (She was a double tropper for enduring a drag queen's lip syncing of a song called "Push the Button" which, you guessed it, is NOT about operating an elevator.)
Long story short, I had a great time. PrideFest had an unbelievable air of freedom and permissibility and progress. Gregory Douglass's performance was spectacular. A few highlights were his performance of "Dry" with its stinging guitar riffs and intense lyrics as well as his a cappella version of Alicia Keys' "No One," which I was fortunate enough to capture on video.
When I left I was glad that there are people like Gregory Douglass who just love to sing and play and jam and I was glad I am one of the people who love to watch that happen.
Check him out!
http://www.gregorydouglass.com/
www.myspace.com/gregorydouglass
Late Sunday afternoon as the all-day St. Louis clouds were finally clearing - just as my father and I were getting home from our damp motorcyle ride - I cleaned up and drove over to my best friend's house. She quickly hopped in my car and we were off to Tower Grove Park. We were headed to what we thought would be a pretty culturally shocking experience, though we had braced ourselves for it. We were headed to PrideFest. Specifically, the 29th Annual St. Louis PrideFest.
We thought PrideFest would be interesting because, primarily, we are both heterosexual. I entered the park with the idea, and maybe the hope, that there would be many other straight people there, and that these individuals would be wearing some sort of stickers or hats or sandwich boards which read, "Hey! I'm straight too! Let's be out-of-place together!" No such luck. But I didn't feel uncomfortable for a second while I was there for almost two hours. My best friend and I wandered around the many tents, admiring the rainbow decorations, speculating about all the churches with little booths set up, and sometimes blushing at some of the raunchy merchandise being sold.
Then, at 20 minutes past 6:00 PM, we settled down by the stage for the reason we were there - a free concert given by Gregory Douglass, an openly gay singer/songwriter from Burlington, Vermont who I happen to adore. My best friend was lukewarm but she was a trooper for enduring my girlish excitement during the whole thing. (She was a double tropper for enduring a drag queen's lip syncing of a song called "Push the Button" which, you guessed it, is NOT about operating an elevator.)
Long story short, I had a great time. PrideFest had an unbelievable air of freedom and permissibility and progress. Gregory Douglass's performance was spectacular. A few highlights were his performance of "Dry" with its stinging guitar riffs and intense lyrics as well as his a cappella version of Alicia Keys' "No One," which I was fortunate enough to capture on video.
When I left I was glad that there are people like Gregory Douglass who just love to sing and play and jam and I was glad I am one of the people who love to watch that happen.
Check him out!
http://www.gregorydouglass.com/
www.myspace.com/gregorydouglass
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