I have begun an exercise regimen. I have been walking for a couple of weeks now. I am up to about 3-4 miles a day. I even look forward to it. Damn, it's invigorating. And I am able to savor the trees, the lakes, the animals, the sky, the clouds; all the good stuff. It's corny as hell, but it's the truth.
And I have time to reflect on my life. And to think about what I want to do. I have lost a lot in the past year, but it's all right. I made my bed....
My mother is co-dependent, and, of course, I'm her reclamation project. She has me watching religious programs. "Get down on your hands and knees and ask God for help," is her rallying cry. And my only hope for success in this crazy world.
I haven't been very religious in my life. I am more spiritual. I would never be pompous enough to believe there was no God; and agnostic doesn't cut it for me either. My mom has become very religious in the last ten years. When we were kids, she would send us off to Sunday school and church via Mrs. Chadwick and her clan. In their Chevrolet. Sans my mom who never went with me.
Mrs. Chadwick had 4 daughters, three of whom were pigeon-toed. They were younger than me, the oldest being 5 years my junior. Mrs. C. was a decent woman and an ex Sunday school teacher. She would honk the horn to see if I was going on Sunday. And there were times I waited in bed hoping me mum wouldn't stir me, because I didn't want to go.
I hated Sunday school because it was normally very BORING! The S.S. teachers weren't the best. Droning on and on and in a monotone. Much the way I talk today. I did have one cool teacher who was funny and not uptight. He let me be the Sunday school class clown. But every now and then, he would have to reel me in. [ pun unintended ]
After Sunday school, we had the service. And Mr. Rainwater was the pastor. I forget the name of the musical director. But here is where I learned some of the old standards. "Old Rugged Cross;" "Onward Christian Soldiers;" and "Love Lifted Me;" to name a few. And I loved them.
And after the sermon, we'd climb back into that blue Chevy and head home. But when I started working after school and, then, going to college, and then in my adult life, I never went to church again. Kaput. Fini.' And didn't send my kids, which I regret now. Kitty wasn't religious either. Plus, I worked every freakin' Sunday anyway, even as the G.M. so....
In the last few weeks I have been watching two preachers. Joel Osteen I like, but this other guy starts out talking about Satan and "God Made Adam and Eve; not Adam and Steve." Well, that turned me off right there. Number one, I don't believe in Satan; and number two, I ain't homophobic.
I like to believe what my liberal sis from San Fran says about her "higher power." [ another example of the world gone awry, as denizens of our world use this phrase quite a bit these days. ] That he's a loving, caring God. I like to believe that myself, because I don't believe a loving, caring God would sentence anyone to a life in Hell; I don't care what that person did. Well, perhaps Hitler is there. Because if anyone deserved to be there, it would be he!
I lost my proof reader last nite-I fired his sorry ass-but back in my day, "it would be he" was the proper protocol. Methinks, it is still this way today.
Forget Jeffrey Dahlmer and Ted Bundy and all the other serial killers. Something other than Satan drove these people to commit the heinous crimes they committed.
So, the catfish is experiencing epiphanies daily on his road to recovery. I even went to an Al-Anon meeting Sunday nite. I am no alcoholic, but do have issues in other areas. Plus, there are alcoholics in every family. My grandfather was one. He always indulged from a bottle in a brown paper bag which he referred to as his "cough medicine." These scenes occurred while we were riding down the road in his Chevy. One of those vintage models where the gear shift was next to the wheel. We were young kids but knew he was drinking alcohol. He died, btw, of moonshine poisoning. My part of the family wasn't aware of this until decades later. He died in 1964. Skeletons in the closet, eh?
In summary, 1) I have an exercise regimen in place; 2) I don't believe in Satan; 3) I could care less about Adam and Steve; 4) I am experiencing epiphanies; 5) I wonder what happened to Mrs. Chadwick and her 4 daughters; 5) While riding down the hi-ways and bi-ways of Charleston, S.C., my grand dad was putting us at risk. Drinking while driving and no seat belts; and 6) I must recruit a new proof reader.
Here's hoping you have an epiphany today, v.c.
P.S. Oh, yeah. The title of tonite's foray. I can now see my penis again. Because of my exercise regimen. I know that's too much information for most of you, but it's a damn good feeling. I am still keeping the magnifying glass and tweezers, however. Selah!
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