It is 11:00 pm on September 10th. Tomorrow will be the anniversary… the one year anniversary. The city seems to be all right, thus far, except for the media tributes that keep playing. This past weekend, during the retreat, several middlers shared about their experience last year – what they are feeling about this year. It seems I’m between two worlds. One, the world of those who were hear to feel, to taste, to hear, to smell, to see, simply to experience everything from the fall of the towers, yet I was not here that day, that one day, nor for the weeks that followed. I was here, though. The other world comprises those who experienced the attack from afar. I was here and saw, and smelled, and heard. I don’t belong to either group, yet both, and I don’t know how I am going to respond tomorrow.
The cable guy said today he is just going to a movie. He was down there, then. The percussion smashed his windshield. J.R. is going to sleep late and work out. We all, here at General, will go to Morning Prayer. Afterwards, several of us will travel down to Trinity Wall Street and St. Paul’s Chapel – hopefully we will be able to get into Trinity for the choral Evensong at 11:00 am. Evensong, because they are broadcasting the service in England. The Lord Mayer of London, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Presiding Bishop, and others will be there to remember and to present a newly made bell from the sister-parish in London as a gift to Trinity. I hope we can get in. Here, at General, they will be reading aloud all the names of the missing and killed. And the terrorists. I will be there for Evening Prayer, where I should finally meet Doug, Ned’s boyfriend. Afterwards, Ned and I are planning on walking up the East River trail up to the site, as we did last year. I’ve run up to that point twice now. It’s hard to believe.
Ashton was/is due back tonight, I think. He called from the airport in Louisville, but I missed the call. I thought he would be home by now, but really have no idea where or what he is doing. I really want to see him, talk to him. God, could it be possible? Really possible?
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Things are progressing. Orientation is going on. I’ve written lots of stuff in my paper journal and not much here at this point. We get our cable modem hooked up next Thursday, so my Internet access will finally be restored. I’ve been lost and have come across so many things where the Internet would have made life so much easier!
Anyway, the first thing that has caused me to thing or contemplate came today during the reflection after Morning Prayer in the chapel. This is it – simple, sweet, and all that: “What are you seeking?”
So, what am I seeking? I have said repeatedly that I’m seeking Truth, which I believe resides in the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Ruth, Sara, and on and on. Is that true? Yes, for the most part, but why am I here? To seek? To learn? To experience New York? To try to figure out what I want to do, or what I’m supposed to do? Why am I here? What am I seeking? An easy life? To call others to seek God? To fool around for a few years?
That is an excellent question to present before people generally. Someone comes by and it is a good question that is none threatening, open, yet with incredible seriousness and potential. What are you seeking? To fill the hole inside? To resolve life? To be at pease? To escape? To be told what to do? and on and on….
More about all that later when I’m able to get to the Internet when I need to, when I feel like just writing, rather then when the lab is convenient.
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Well, I’m here in the big city! Leaving was horrible, terrible, miserable, but now that the move is over I’m looking forward and getting to know some of my fellow first year peers. More then ever, I’ve felt who and what I have left behind. Leaving once in a life time friends has been so difficult this time – I guess that comes with age and perspective of what is really important.
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Waking up early – what’s that? Yesterday, 2:30 am. This morning, 3:00 am. Today, we load up the truck and I take sleeping pills to get good nights sleep at a hotel! Tomorrow, we pull out of the parking lot of St. Paulç—´, Lisa and I, her in her 24′ truck (which was supposed to be a 14′ truck) and me in my 15′ truck at 5:00 am. At least I don’t have to worry about over sleeping! I hope.
These past few weeks have been some of the most stressful in my life. I know a lot of the anxiety and stress have been of my own making, but I had no idea how to calm myself down. Depression, realization of who I’m leaving behind, all the problems with U-Haul, on Wednesday getting a call from Ryder that I wouldn’t have a truck and having to clear that up, not knowing for sure whether Pat was able to come to help unload, lack of sleep, all add up for a very rough week!
This morning, the end is in sight and I talked to Jason, one of my new roommates at General. Everything seems to be lined up on that end, unless of course something has been fouled up on their end. I sent my deposit checks, etc. Everything should be good to go.
I wrote John a letter via e-mail. A the-door-will-always-be-open letter. I feel better – I’ve said what I felt I wanted to say. My suspicion is that it doesn’t really mean all that much to him – once over a relationship, it’s over. Yet, for myself, I know I wanted to say the things I did in the letter and there is only one life, only certain opportunities, and I want to live that life to the full without fear, insecurity, worry about what he or anyone could think of me. I want to live an honest and open life and not saying things can be as dishonest as anything else. I’m sure nothing will come of it, but it is written and he knows what he has meant to me, despite and over-arching the problems we had and the issues he (we) dealt (deals?) with.
I am so tired right now, but sleep eludes me. A very long day today, a very long drive tomorrow. Once all the unloading is done, it will be over, finally. It is 5:10 am, EST.
I turn over my car to the new owners at 9:30 am this morning.
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I woke up again this morning at around 4:15 am. Today is moving day, unless of course I have repeat of last Saturday when U-Haul just couldn’t come up with the truck I reserved two weeks earlier before I had to cancel it – too late in the day. Technically, I still don’t have a truck for today, but was told they think they can have one by noon. This is the last time I use U-Haul, if I can help it. Thank goodness I had the presence of mind to reserve a Ryder truck (from a trustworthy place) for the move to New York City.
Friday was hard, but good, my last day. Sharona had a card made with a picture of Pat and I off our cubicle wall. She added an earring and necklace and designed the cover of the card with big bold words – “Bling Bling.” A couple days before a conversation came up where I related our trip to Toronto where Sam and Randy kept going through the cheap shops on Yong St. talking about bling-bling. They both teach in the Cleveland Public Schools as technology guys for the elementary schools. As I was talking, I yelled over the cubicle wall to Sharona, who has worked with the Upward Bound program at Kent and thus with high school students. I asked her if she ever heard of bling-bling, to which she responded, “Yes, Bob, of course I’ve heard of bling-bling,” in that kind of what-do-you-think? way. So, she had the brilliant idea of making the card. It was great. But, the best part was that the card wasn’t just a joke, because she wrote under the card cover, “As you move onto other challenges, remember ‘No pressure, no diamonds.'” It was great!
So, Diane wrote in my book Amy made for me last year. I said goodbye to everyone once again – much harder this year! I said good-bye to Pat, but will see him next weekend as he helps me move to NYC. It is going to be hard not seeing him and talking to him on a regular basis. Amy, I will say good-bye today, probably.
Jason has moved into the apartment and he seems pleased with it. He has dubbed it the “Penthouse.” I think I am taking way too much stuff to NYC, even though it isn’t much at all.
I’m feeling tired. I’m feeling depressed and anxious. I know it will all work out fine. I know I have time even if I don’t get a truck today. My car sold yesterday for what I was asking, so that pressure is gone. In a week, I will be in New York City and start the big adventure.
Oh, I am typing this on my new 17” screen iMac. I didn’t like the new iMac’s when they came out last year, but they are great machines! I love it. I picked it up on Friday after work, which gave me something good to look forward to after an emotional last day at work. Incidentally, it was a whirlwind day – work, computer, went to Boarders one last time with Amy, then a late dinner with Sam and Russ.
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These past two days have not been the best. Yesterday, I woke up quite depressed – if I could just identify what in the world is causing this I would be okay. Things may suck, but if they are understandable I can deal with it. I know the whole moving and leaving everyone, the prospects to come, not knowing the outcome of the next three years, etc., all contribute to this dull ache, which sometimes isn’t so dull.
So, yesterday, I got an e-mail from Continental Airlines advertising their weekly web specials. $69.00 round trip from Cleveland to Newark! I bought a ticket for Patrick to fly to NYC to help unload the truck when I arrived at General. He was then going to fly back on Monday. So, how lucky can I get? Well, walking back from the Student Center the thought struck me like a ton of bricks, “Pat isn’t flying to New York on the 17th, he is flying to New York tomorrow!” Yes, in fact, because of my inattentiveness I failed to notice that the restrictions held that the flights were for this weekend only. Why in the world did I not pay attention to that? So, I called, and they will not change the date, will not apply the cost to another more expensive ticket, will not transfer the ticket – I lose $91.00 when it is all said and done. Okay, if they insist on being that inflexible when I call an hour after making the reservation and will not make any type of accommodation, they won’t get any more of my money! All those flights back and forth between New York City and Cleveland over the next three years – I have choices, and I will exercise them. Pat, in all his consideration, will drive up to NYC and meet me there.
So then, this morning I still do not have a U-haul truck to move all the non-NYC stuff to my parents. Why do I still not have a truck? Who the heck knows, but even after making the reservation more then two weeks ago, they say they MAY have a truck available sometime this afternoon – which really doesn’t do me any good because the U-haul storage facility closes by 7:00 pm tonight. Well, I could probably do it, but no one to help load the truck if it is too late in the afternoon. This does not, of course, make my day any better. U-haul is like Greyhound, they get things moved around but you really can’t count on them all that much, their equipment is generally old, and encountering them isn’t really all that pleasant of an experience. To be fair, I really haven’t had that much problem with U-haul in the past. This just doesn’t make me happy.
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I couldn稚 sleep this morning � still depressed and anxious about the move coming up. Not that I知 not looking forward to it, but saying good-bye just sucks, as Amy would say. So, I picked-up on the article in the July/August edition of The Atlantic Monthly, a great magazine by-the-way, American Ground: Unbuilding the World Trade Center. This is supposed to be an incredible article – at least that is what the NPR reviewer said.
The author, William Langewiesche, had immediate access to the site and just finished a paragraph talking about his experiences oversees being in the midst of failing societies and how this reminded him of those experiences and sites, except for one added element � the uniquely American character of the whole unfolding event.
Many people talk about the uniqueness of the American psyche, a unique culture that expresses itself in both good and bad ways. This is one of the examples of an American cultural psyche at its best.
One paragraph in particular sums up this understanding: 釘ut you could never confuse New York with a back corner of the world, and the ruins did not actually look like a war zone either. There was sadness to the site, to be sure, and anger, but there was none of the emptiness � the ghostly quality of abandonment � that lurks in the aftermath of battle. In fact, quite the opposite quality materialized here: within hours of the collapse, as the rescuers rushed in and resources were marshaled, the disaster was smothered in an exuberant and distinctly American embrace. Despite the apocalyptic nature of the scene, the response was unhesitant and almost childishly optimistic: it was simply understood that you would find survivors, and then that you would find the dead, and that this would help their families to get on with their lives, and that your resources were unlimited, and that you would work night and day to clean up the mess, and that this would allow the world痴 greatest city to rebuild quickly, and maybe even to make itself into something better then before. From the first hours these assumptions were never far away.� (p47)
I think, for various reasons, Americans are still, over all, 砥nhesitant and almost childishly optimistic� in a good way. There are plenty of detractors who condemn the many things Americans get wrong, but for the most part there is a unique quality of the American cultural experience that continues to give us an optimism, an unhesitant desire to help those in need, a belief that we can do anything. Again, this sense can get us into all kinds of trouble, yet the world looks at America and sees something different and to many something unique and positive.
I thought Langewiescheç—´ paragraph summed-up just a part of the American experience.
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Nice, clean, shiny car once again. Now, to sell it is all I need (aside from the best price I can get!).
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I just received an e-mail news update concerning the International Anglican Conversations on Human Sexuality. They have just published their report detailing the outcome of a three-year study on homosexuality in the Anglican Communion world-wide, which is THE issue right now and which could well divide the communion. Click here for the article from the Episcopal News Service
I just don’t know where this is all leading. It causes me a lot of consternation. I have this underlying fear that I will finish seminary and for whatever reason will not be ordained, regardless of what my Bishop says or intends to do. He is committed to inclusion and has ordained gay people in committed relationships, and the rest. Things change, though. And, I’m just getting so tired of this debate. I’m getting tired of the pro-inclusion camp being of the belief that scripture does not play the major role in the formulation of Church policy – I believe it does. I’m tired of the prohibitionist camp claiming that anyone who believes in inclusion cannot possibly understand scripture or doesn’t take it seriously – which is completely untrue. I believe in inclusion because of what scriptures says, not what ancient teaching says the Bible says. Ancient teachings have gotten things wrong before, and I believe they are wrong on this issue, too. Yet, it will depend on who has the upper hand as to whether the Communion will remain together, whether gay people will continue to be ordained, and what kind of role gays will play in the Anglican Church – locally in the Episcopal Church – USA, and internationally. It just makes me nervous, and I’ve been around long enough to know that despite what those above me may say, my best interests are not generally theirs’.
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I have no clarity. I feel lost. Emotionally, I’m all over the place, absolutely. I feel this pang in my chest and don’t know where it is coming from, don’t know how to identify it. It’s there all the same. What am I feeling? Do these feelings mean anything – something I won’t or can’t recognize, admit?
I’ve written a lot about missing John, at least in my journal, maybe more so in my paper journal, but I know things were over a long time ago and we are both probably better off, at least as the people we where then. As Vince said back then, “you’re just too much for him,” but I pray that he will be too much himself – deep, secure, joyful, sincere, with a thrill for life. That he becomes the person he is meant to be – full-life.
Yet, I can’t seem to get over the thoughts or feelings of the sense of lose I’m feeling about friendship with Pat. He is such a unique individual – someone you come across once in a lifetime. I don’t think I will ever come across someone like him again. I’m feeling the loss of seeing him and working with him every weekday even now, even before I leave, even though I will see him in a couple hours. I have learned what kind of person I want to be with, share my life with, from him. Is that realization contributing to this melancholy?
I really donÂ’t know anything right now.
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