Thursday, February 23, 2006

JUST A PLAIN AND SIMPLE CHAPEL...
...where people meet of one accord...


If you're saying to yourself, "hey, that sounds like a line from Elvis Presley's religious hit , Crying in the Chapel", you would be right. I remember going to church. I suppose that I am now a heathen backslider, because I haven't been to church in ages. I believe in God but I just don't like Churches. It is amazing how tirelessly boring I've always found ALL sermons. After listening to a Pastor for half-an-hour, I come very close to slipping into a coma. Heathen Backslider, indeed!

Our family, mainly at my Mom's urging, went to all kinds of churches...Pentecostal, Holy Rollers, Assembly of God, Lutheran, Baptist, Presbyterian; we all pretty much ran the gamut. I always liked the "musical" part of the services the best; I always thought that the old Hymns were some of the most beautiful music ever. Gosh, "The Old Rugged Cross", "How Great Thou Art", and I really liked "All Hail The Power of Jesus' Name", although I never knew what a "diadem" was. "Amazing Grace" is another of those immortal songs.

We attended a little "independent" church called "St. Paul Memorial", back in the '60s; it was a new church looking for a home, so for a while it used a local building of note...for a while, the congregation of St. Paul Memorial was headquartered here, in the old Fort Sherman Chapel, which has before and since, been used by many other smaller congregations trying to gain a foothold in the wide wonderful world of church attendance. I believe this little chapel dates back to around 1880; what a fascinating little building this is, and it is truly a historical landmark, and something we should all treasure.

Due to religious differences between our family and St. Paul Memorial, our family was basically ostracised from the church. Mom was treated badly by the pastor, Rev. Ray Fitzhugh, and I remember once, when I was supposed to bring all the treats for a weekly evening get-together of youth at the Church, nobody else showed up. Because I was hosting it. The week before, when someone ELSE brought all the treats, the place was packed. So I found out about religious phoniness at an early age. By that time, the church had relocated to 9th and Best Avenue; the church met in the basement, because at that time, a basement was all the church could afford; there were no "upper stories" on that building in those days.

"Thar's a bear, he's out there somewhere" dept. I don't know if truckers still use the term "bear" for a highway cop, but I know the term was used way back when. So, a policeman in a helicopter became a "bear in the air". And, truckers would wish their fellow co-horts well with the phrase, "keep yer shiny side up an' keep 'er between the ditches". (Which gets harder to do on the highway all the time). Well, in the future, "bears" ain't gonna be as obvious as before. In one of the desert states, "photographic sensors" are being installed along the highway, and if yer goin' too fast, it'll take a picture of you in yer car, and find out where ya live using your plate number, and before ya know it, you'll get a $157.00 speeding fine in the mail. So maybe, sometimes, computers AREN'T the best thing ever, huh? Actually, I set the cruise control around 62-63 mph, and just enjoy the tape deck as I zip on down the road. What's the hurry? Just give yerself time to git there!

The case of the disappearing Wetland dept.: Sounds like a case for Perry Mason. (Da-DAAAA-da-DAH!!! Da-DAAAAAA-da-da-DUH!!!!!!) (My approximation of the Perry Mason theme music) I think we're living in the Twilight Zone. We must be. A headline in today's SPOKESMAN-REVIEW (that re-designed "rag") screamed out, "WETLAND MYSTERIOUSLY FILLED IN". Now, I can see no one noticing that if the wetland was somewhere near Twisp or Othello somewhere, but this particular wetland is right in the city of SPOKANE, on the South Side. There are roads there, houses there, traffic goes by, so I must ask once again, "Huh? What?" The article then clarified things further by elucidating that, "wetlands aren't always wet". Oh. But didn't anyone notice someone doing SOMETHING out there? And then I read that the land in question is part of a proposed site for WAL-MART. 'Nuff said...somehow that makes cosmic sense, in a terribly morbid way. Pretty soon, developers will be building entire developments in the dead of night. Don't be surprised if you wake up one morning and have 96 new neighbors around you. Ack!!!

And the games drag on and on and on and on.....dept.: Harumph. Foolishness. Bah Humbug. I'm not watching the Olympics this time around. If you wanna see live Olympix transmissions, you've gotta be up at 3am our time to do so. Which is really inconvenient for me. The Olympix are being shown on MSNBC, which means that "Imus In The Morning" is being pre-empted quite a lot. Although I think MSNBC Olympic reporter Chris Jansing is a real BABE, the Olympics are messing with my viewing habits! I tape "Imus" religiously; it's amazing the number of political and otherwise-newsmaking movers and shakers appear on his show, and Imus shows no one any MERCY! But anyway, I have been paying attention to Olympic events every now and then, such as the skating event below...

I actually tried to ice-skate once. My parents had taken my sister and me to see the Ice Capades in the Spokane Coliseum one year. As I was watching the skaters glide around on the ice, I thought, "hey, I think I'd like to try that!" I think I was about 15 at the time, so I went and bought a pair of cheap-skates (hence, how people describe me), and went with a buddy over to Fernan Lake, which is guaranteed to freeze over almost every year. I had no grace or coordination. And I found out fast, skating is harder than it looks!

I used to be a runner. Why? Basically, I couldn't do anything else. I couldn't run and dribble a basketball at the same time; I didn't like the physical contact of football, and in 3 seasons of little league baseball, I had 3 TOTAL HITS. The captain of my last baseball team warned me, "if you don't get a hit today, don't come back!" Well, I spent the rest of the summer goofing off. But I'll tell ya what, I'm a great spectator. Of sports I like, that is.

____________________

I have felt purely AWFUL all day. I got up late, and every joint just hurt. Couldn't hardly move. I feel better now, but I was afraid I wouldn't have anything to post. So I just faked my way thru this one. Can't you tell?

3 Comments:

Blogger jb3ll3 said...

My mother and father STARTED St. Paul Memorial -Calvinist in Doctrine, Presbyterian in Government- and were treated horribly by "Reverend" Fitzhugh. We left, the church they had started, before the move to 9th & Best. Down the road, they dumped Fitzhugh and begged my folks to come back. There was sooo much water under the bridge by that time. I understand that these days there are pretty nice folks up there.

9:45 AM  
Blogger Jinx said...

I still think of that chuch up on 9th and Best as the "underground" church. One day I was with someone who attended that church and they were so startled when I called it that.

Hope you are feeling better.

3:00 PM  
Blogger little ol' me said...

Wow...a couple of people who know the church of whence I speak. And it was an "underground" church. It is so sad that a man in power can totally subvert religion for his own aims. I've run into several pastors like that. Thanks for hoping I'm feeling better. My back's a little better, but when it's damp like this, the ol' arthritis comes out to the fore. But at least the pain lets me know I'm alive!

5:42 PM  

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