Chrisitanity

Dreaming of Pastor Dave’s Gig

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Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I had a strange dream last night that I wanted to get down.

Jim Thompson and I were hanging out in the old Rockland bowling alley. It was totally different on the inside, though. It had been redone as a family fun center. It was bright white inside. There was a cafe that featured live music. There were lots of video games. There were only two bowling lanes, and they weren’t open.

In my dream it was 6:30pm. It was still light outside, so it must’ve been late summer. Jim and I were sitting at a table, enjoying some kind of spritzer drink. Pastor Dave and Josey came through the door. Pastor Dave was carrying a guitar case and one of those singer/songwriter amps. I didn’t know he was going to be there. I got up, and walked over to him, and said “Are you playing a gig here tonight? I didn’t realize that!” He said, rather shortly, “No.” He then went up on stage, set his gear down, and started setting up. His reaction wasn’t typical Pastor Dave. I could tell something was bothering him. I didn’t want to bother him more by talking to him while he was setting up, so I went and sat back down.

When he was done setting his gear up, he came and sat down with Jim and me. He wasn’t playing the gig; he was acting as a roadie for a visiting folk musician. He was renting his gear to that person.  I said something to the effect of “It’s nice to see you. I didn’t have any plans for tonight, so Jim and I came here to see the music.” Pastor Dave replied, “The ladies and I prayed for you tonight.” That’s when it hit me: I was supposed to be at a church prayer service at 6pm!

“I’m sorry, Pastor Dave! I forgot all about it! Honest, I did. You just heard me say I didn’t have any plans… I wouldn’t lie to you. I just forgot all about it.”

“It wasn’t very well attended,” Pastor Dave said. “It was just me and a couple of the older women.” I felt really bad. As a deacon, it’s my responsibility to be at services, to be ready to serve, and to be faithful. I felt like a heel. Pastor Dave got up, and went to the stage. I followed him.

When I got on stage, I could see off in the stage right wings a big envelope. It was one of those kind of plastic-y Priority Mail envelopes. I noticed it was my writing on the envelope. It was addressed to Steve Waterman’s mom! Apparently, the church had collected a bunch of cards for her when she was in the hospital. She had been moved to a long-term care center, and the hospital had returned it to sender. They had thoughtfully included the name and address of the facility where she was now. I fumed a little bit that the Post Office wouldn’t just deliver it to the now corrected address. But you know the Post Office: they want their postage times two! I looked at the date on the envelope. It was March! The envelope was about six months old!

The owner of the club noticed that I was looking at the envelope. He said to me “For some reason, the Post Office returned that here. Since you’re a musician, I figured you’d be playing in here sooner or later, and I’d just give it to you when you played a gig here. I kept forgetting to give it to you.”

Then I woke up.

Weekend Wrap-Up

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Friday. Left the office. Proceeded almost immediately to my gig in Bangor at The Whig and Courier.  We had a typical gig there. It’s a hard room to play in. The stage is small, and in one room. The bar is at the opposite side of the building in another room. So what ends up happening is the patrons sit in the other room, and listen through the opening. The downside is you, as a performer, can’t “feed” of their energy. Yes, they would clap and hoot at the end of songs, but it’s not the same. On the plus side, the people who run the place are very nice, and the food is really good. I stopped at Tim Horton’s on the way home for a sour cream donut and a milk. I think I was home about 2am. Susan was still up, and she was glad when I returned home.

Saturday AM, and Susan got up with the kids. Anyone who reads here knows I love my wife very much. She’s not a morning person, though. So usually I get up with the boys, even on those morning where I have a gig the night before. Saturday, though, Susan got up with them and let me sleep. And sleep I did! I think I slept until almost 10am! I can’t remember the last time I slept so late.  When I woke, Susan had made baked cinnamon donuts and coffee. They were really quite good. There was a work crew at the church in the morning putting in new carpet tiles at the church. I called down there to see if they needed more help. (I figured they would.) They said no, they had enough people, and were about 1/2 way done. I wasn’t needed. I hadn’t planned on that, so I really didn’t know what to do with myself. I ended up taking Julia for lunch, and running a few errands. I think most of the afternoon was spent in the kitchen. I cleaned the floors and washed dishes. I made a creme caramel for supper’s dessert. Supper was a turkey risotto that Susan made. I got an interesting phone call from Dave Clarke just before I left for my gig. It seems he was playing a gig in Rockport, and his drummer forgot his snare drum. He was wondering if he could perhaps borrow one from me. I told him I’d see if I could scrounge one up!

My gig Saturday night went very well. We played at The Myrtle Street Tavern here in town. It’s been around for years; you may know it as The Oasis, The Myrtle House, O’Brann’s, The Ale Yard, or who knows what other names it has been. Supposedly, back in the day, you could “rent” a room upstairs if you needed someplace to, well, take a new found “girlfriend” that could be located at the bar. That doesn’t happen there anymore, but the place is still what you might call a “road house.” Beer, pool tables and darts, and some clientele that wouldn’t mind “taking it outside” if need be. But the crowd really liked the music. The place isn’t that big on the inside, and it was pretty well packed. People danced all night long. This gig was originally conceived as a  jam session, but only about 1/2 a dozen other musicians showed up. So Blind Albert (the house band) finished up the show with about two hours of rock and blues. It was easy to feed off the energy of this crowd. They were having a good time. And, no fights, no falling down drunks. I got home around 1am, and once again, Susan was still up. It’s nice to feel wanted like that! (Not that I want you staying up late after every gig Susan! You need your sleep!)

Sunday morning came, and I got up first this time. We fired up the new eggamuffin toaster for its inaugural run. (Eggamuffin is what my late friend Tim called any breakfast sandwich. It enabled him to talk about such without copyright infringement!) Then it was off to church! Pastor Dave had a very moving and powerful service! God was in the house! We had people at the altar seeking renewal, people asking for healing, and nary a dry eye anywhere. It was great to be there. After several weeks of schedule mess-ups, we were back to the regular routine of lunch at Mom’s house, and Susan made a good lasagna, and an ever better banana cake! Susan wanted to stay at Mom’s house for the afternoon, so she kept the kids with her, and I went home and fixed all the wallpaper where the stupid cat sharpened her claws on the wall. I fell asleep on the couch for 1/2 hour until the phone rang. Then I watched some show on Discovery on how to translate motorcycle gang tattoos. Then back to church for evening service, then home.

Friday Fill In #140

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1. I feel sorta strange.

2. Tickling Nathaniel is always fun.

3. Right now, I can hear these things: an air conditioner. (And, I can only hear it out of my right ear. I’m having a left ear problem right now.)

4. I don’t have a gig on Saturday night, and I’m glad having that time off will let me got to a Sea Dogs game.

5. The last time I had a physical was 2005.

6. It looks like I’m covering the office phones this Labor day weekend.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to gigging with Blind Albert at the Black Bull, tomorrow my plans include a breakfast alone with Susan, and Sunday, I want to start my new Sunday School class: The Faith Cafe!

Crosswalk Altercation

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First, some background information. Maine law says drivers must yield to pedestrians in a crosswalk. It’s a fairly well known law here in ME, and probably all over the country. What’s not as well known is that if a pedestrian is crossing at an intersection with traffic lights, they must yield to the lights, and cross when the light is red. Now, onto my story…

I was on my way into work this morning. I was stopped at the stoplight near my house, at the intersection sometimes known in Rockland as “Five Corners.” This intersection was recently upgraded with new traffic lights, and new walk/don’t walk lights complete with countdown timers–the ones that tell you when the light’s about to change. On the opposite side of the intersection from me, a mother pushing a baby carriage with another child in tow begins to cross what is a fairly wide intersection. Knowing how long I’ve been at the intersection, I know she’ll never make it across before the light changes. In fact, almost as soon as she leaves the sidewalk, the light changes. Three lanes of traffic that should be moving through this green light are now stopped, waiting for this lady to cross. She makes no attempt to hurry across the intersection, but walks at her regular gait.

As she’s just past lane #2, the guy in the car calls out the window to her. He calls her an animal husbandry term usually reserved for female dogs. He also extended his middle phalanges. She responded by telling him to have marital relations with himself, and kept walking.

I post this because over the last few weeks, I’ve had a number of conversations with people about how many today seem to always want to put themselves first. Those of us who want to follow Christ’s teachings should always be trying to put the other person first. It shouldn’t be all about “me.” Why didn’t pedestrian wait for the light? Why didn’t she hurry when the light turned green? Was she thinking “It’s my right to cross the street”? Why did driver have to yell something–especially in front of kids. (And why did mother use equally coarse language in front of her own kids?) Why not just let the lady pushing the baby carriage pass? Was he thinking “I’m too important to have to wait for this lady?” In both situations, it appears to me that each said by their actions “I’m #1, you’re #2, yield to ME!”

Jesus said “If anyone wants to be first, he must be the very last, and the servant of all.” (Mark 9:35) I think that’s an important lesson, and one we should all concentrate on a little more.

Dreaming of the Devil

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In the dream, I was going to visit this Catholic priest I knew: one Father Priori. Yup. The priest in my dream had a name. I walked up to his house, and knocked on his door. The door opened, and there was the priest, but it wasn’t quite him. It looked sorta like him, but he was all pasty white, like he’d been covered in hand cream and flour, or something. He was couched down, and hunched over, and looking up at me, and snarling. That’s when I realized the devil had possessed Father Priori! It caused me to throw up in my mouth. And what did I throw up? You guessed it: a turd! How my digestive system got so messed up is beyond me, but I ended up with this smallish, and very firm, poop in my mouth. And what did I do with this little fecal thingy? What would you do? I threw it at the devil! Then I woke up.