When I was a little kid, first grade or so, I had a nightmare about Chilly Willie, the penguin cartoon character. Chilly was out in the ocean and he drowned. But that wasn’t the scary part. The scary part was seeing the bird sitting on a cloud in heaven. And he was going to be there, doing nothing for ever. That boredom was what scared me.
That’s why I was happy to see that Lisa Miller, in her book Heaven (Harper Collins 2010), included a chapter entitled “Is Heaven Boring?” Because a lot of adults wonder about that, it isn’t just the mini-me. Miller explores many interesting questions about heaven and the answers provided by the monotheistic religions (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) for the last few millennia. Ideas about Heaven from culture (Dante) to pop culture (The Lovely Bones) are also presented.
Miller is Jewish, the religion editor of Newsweek and skeptical herself about the existence of heaven. But her interviews with followers of various faiths are fair and respectful. She calls Anne Graham Lotz (Billy’s daughter) a friend and listens politely (and uncomfortably) to Anne pleas to take the Christian path to Heaven. She also writes about her respect for prominent atheists.
It is interesting to follow the history of views of Heaven through the years and the various ways heaven is viewed today. Is Heaven a physical place or purely spiritual? Does one get entrance to Heaven through faith or works or does everyone get in? How does one’s view of Heaven affect the way one lives life? The varied answers to these questions that Miller finds are intriguing, sometime funny, and thought provoking.
I knew a lot of the things that Miller writes about. I remembered from my seminary days about Augustine’s teaching that unbaptized babies would not get into heaven. (The Bishop of Hippo wrote that just as the thief on the cross would enter Heaven based on his faith, though he was not baptized; babies who are baptized enter Heaven though they have not faith.) I hadn’t known (or remembered) that the church father went on to argue that there was a special baby hell, wherein baby souls wouldn’t really even notice their torture. (Baby hell is a concept worth pondering.)
I was unaware of some of the Muslim theories of the intermediary state between death and the Resurrection. This is a theory that two angels with green eyes and long fangs test the newly dead with a series of questions. Those who pass the test with flying colors will get a window view of heaven. Second tier corpses will get a window to hell with the assurance that they won’t go there. Third level is pretty bad because your grave will be set afire and fourth is worse because your sins are turned into wild animals that will attack you.
I also found fascinating the archeological evidence that in ancient Israel, people kept their ancestors bones under there house and may have consulted and/or worshiped them.
Miller can, of course, present no definitive conclusions with her research. But she seems to believe that it is a challenge to rationalism to believe in Heaven and is very uncomfortable with the idea that there is only one route to get there.
Obviously, these are difficult questions. But I believe in a powerful God who can do as He chooses. And that He has graciously choose to give life to His people after life on this earth.
And as to that question of whether Heaven is boring, I came to my own conclusions when I attended camp as a kid, a few years after that penguin dream. A speaker at camp pointed to the beauty around us (the spectacular Sierra Nevada Mountains) and the fun we’d had though the week (swimming, games, archery, great food) and said that a God who thought up such great things would have even better things to come. For me, that answered my fear. That’s when I trusted Christ for forgiveness of my sins and began looking forward to Heaven.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
But I Could See That For Free
3-D is the current big thing in the multiplex. Last year people paid record amounts to see Alien Blue People in 3-D, this year people flocked to see Wonderland, Greek Gods and Dragons leap off the screen; with Living Toys, Piranha and Witches yet to come. People have always gone to the movies for spectacle.
Historical and Biblical epics brought people into worlds beyond their imagination. Science fiction, fantasy and horror films are like shared dreams on the screen. Comedies delight with outlandish situations that could never happen in real life. And, perhaps, Hollywood’s greatest special effect has always been supernaturally beautiful people in love.
Yet there has always been another side to cinema: simple tales of ordinary people. Rarely have such films been the blockbusters. War, monsters, epic disasters…that is the stuff of blockbusters. But some have always been interested in the amazing opportunity to observe other people living, talking, brooding, celebrating…just living.
One of the most acclaimed films of this kind is Louis Malle’s My Dinner with Andre (1981). That’s pretty much what the film was: two friends eating dinner. But their conversation was lively and entertaining. Issues of philosophy and morality and meaning were the subjects of this conversation between two intelligent and interesting men. People through the years have enjoyed their company.
Not many people would seek out the company of the title character of writer/director Noah Baumbach’s Greenberg (2010). Ben Stiller plays a forty year old man recenty released from a mental institution. He once had a promising career as a musician but argued his way out of a record deal. So he went into carpentry, but his aptitude for that profession seems marginal at best. The film observes Greenberg as he dog-sits for his vacationing brother in a beautiful home in the Hollywood hills.
Greenberg is hostile, sarcastic and abrasive. His one hobby seems to be writing letters of complaint to newspapers, politicians and corporations that have offended him. He tries to reconnect with friends from his youth, but they have all taken on the responsibilities of families and jobs, leaving him behind. The one connection he is able to make is with his brother’s personal assistant, Florence, a charming but insecure woman in her twenties (a winning performance by Greta Gerwig.)
But Greenberg even sabotages his relationship with Florence, picking fights, criticizing her stories…just being a jerk. When someone quotes to Greenberg the old line, “Youth is wasted on the young”, Greenberg responds, “I’d take that one further, life is wasted on people.” We see Greenberg abuse alcohol and drugs, enter a casual and thoughtless sexual relationship with Florence, neglect his responsibility to Mahler the German Shepherd….There are a number of awkward scenes in the film that difficult to watch. People might reasonably ask, “I wouldn’t want to spend time with this person in real life, why would I want to pay money to spend time with him?”
It’s a good question. I appreciated the reminder that there are some wounded people in this world that need help. Those people are also difficult to help. As Florence says in the film, “Hurt people hurt people.”
Those hurt, despairing, abrasive people need Christ’s love.
I had a friend in youth ministry who loved Star Trek. He once told me that the reason he loved it was because he loved the idea of seeking out The Undiscovered Country (Star Trek IV). But one day, a counselor pointed out to him that the real adventure, the real undiscovered country, was to be found in getting to know another human heart and mind.
Historical and Biblical epics brought people into worlds beyond their imagination. Science fiction, fantasy and horror films are like shared dreams on the screen. Comedies delight with outlandish situations that could never happen in real life. And, perhaps, Hollywood’s greatest special effect has always been supernaturally beautiful people in love.
Yet there has always been another side to cinema: simple tales of ordinary people. Rarely have such films been the blockbusters. War, monsters, epic disasters…that is the stuff of blockbusters. But some have always been interested in the amazing opportunity to observe other people living, talking, brooding, celebrating…just living.
One of the most acclaimed films of this kind is Louis Malle’s My Dinner with Andre (1981). That’s pretty much what the film was: two friends eating dinner. But their conversation was lively and entertaining. Issues of philosophy and morality and meaning were the subjects of this conversation between two intelligent and interesting men. People through the years have enjoyed their company.
Not many people would seek out the company of the title character of writer/director Noah Baumbach’s Greenberg (2010). Ben Stiller plays a forty year old man recenty released from a mental institution. He once had a promising career as a musician but argued his way out of a record deal. So he went into carpentry, but his aptitude for that profession seems marginal at best. The film observes Greenberg as he dog-sits for his vacationing brother in a beautiful home in the Hollywood hills.
Greenberg is hostile, sarcastic and abrasive. His one hobby seems to be writing letters of complaint to newspapers, politicians and corporations that have offended him. He tries to reconnect with friends from his youth, but they have all taken on the responsibilities of families and jobs, leaving him behind. The one connection he is able to make is with his brother’s personal assistant, Florence, a charming but insecure woman in her twenties (a winning performance by Greta Gerwig.)
But Greenberg even sabotages his relationship with Florence, picking fights, criticizing her stories…just being a jerk. When someone quotes to Greenberg the old line, “Youth is wasted on the young”, Greenberg responds, “I’d take that one further, life is wasted on people.” We see Greenberg abuse alcohol and drugs, enter a casual and thoughtless sexual relationship with Florence, neglect his responsibility to Mahler the German Shepherd….There are a number of awkward scenes in the film that difficult to watch. People might reasonably ask, “I wouldn’t want to spend time with this person in real life, why would I want to pay money to spend time with him?”
It’s a good question. I appreciated the reminder that there are some wounded people in this world that need help. Those people are also difficult to help. As Florence says in the film, “Hurt people hurt people.”
Those hurt, despairing, abrasive people need Christ’s love.
I had a friend in youth ministry who loved Star Trek. He once told me that the reason he loved it was because he loved the idea of seeking out The Undiscovered Country (Star Trek IV). But one day, a counselor pointed out to him that the real adventure, the real undiscovered country, was to be found in getting to know another human heart and mind.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Can't Live Up to the Hype
It can be embarrassing being behind the curve. Not that this is new to me. I not only don’t have an I-Phone, I don’t have a cell phone. No HD TV in our house. Our cars don’t have GPS. And as late as the beginning of March, I hadn’t seen Avatar.
The film that has now made more money than any other film in history hadn’t got any of my dollars. The film that was on all kinds of Best of 2009 lists wasn’t on my list of films I’d seen. Which, since I’m the semi-official film commentator of The Communicator, just didn’t seem right.
My daughter Jill was also feeling some pressure to see the film. Several of her friends had seen Avatar multiple times and were telling her it was a must.
Many of the things I read about the film made it sound like a must. I read that it had conquered technological barriers. The theory known as the “Uncanny Valley” holds that we have no problem seeing cartoons of people. However, the closer those depictions get to reality – while still being just a little bit off -- our senses rebel. Reviewers argued that the director of the film, James Cameron, had overcome “The Uncanny Valley” not only with his creation of humanoid figures (a blue alien race called the Navi) but also with computer generated humans in the film that passed for the real thing.
I’ve loved many of James Cameron’s films, especially the Terminator films, The Abyss and even Titanic , which all had pioneering special effects. Critics proclaimed this to be the best presentation yet, utilizing 3-D technology. (The real raves came from those who saw it in 3-D and IMAX.)
I also followed with interest political, environmental and religious arguments about the film. I read that dialogue in the film mirrored the war on terror. Christian magazines and websites discussed the pantheism and ancestor worship in the film. And Cameron took up a phrase from a right wing review of the film, calling it the equivalent of “Death Wish for environmentalists.”
I read articles about people who left the theater depressed to leave the world of the film (Pandora) and come back to Earth. Pandora was a world full of amazing, beautiful, intelligent flora and fauna that included creatures like dinosaurs and dragons. People came out of the film saying “I want to go to there.”
So expectations were raised high by personal testimonials and the media.
Jill and I agreed that this was a film we should experience in the theater, at least with 3-D if not IMAX, rather than wait for DVD. And the Thursday before the Academy Awards was the last chance to see it before Avatar surrendered its 3-D screens to Alice in Wonderland.
And as often happens when expectations were raised high…they came tumbling down. The theater was about half full, with a chiefly older crowd for the matinee. Yeah, the film looked cool, but a not terribly original plot was made less so by conversations we had heard that spoiled any possible surprises.
About halfway through the film, I went to the rest room. When I returned, Jill said, “You missed several stupid things while you were gone.”
It’s a long film, nearly 3 hours, and we both were getting fidgety 2/3rd of the way through.
We left saying, “Well, we can say we saw it.”
I can’t help but wonder what our reaction would be if we saw it opening night with a theater full of enthusiastic viewers. Would we, too, have wanted to join the world of Pandora, rather than be rather happy to get in the car to get home for dinner?
Hype can boomerang that way. Something gets built up to such a degree that expectations just can’t be met.
It happens in the church, of course. We are told that a book by a Christian author will change your life. We hear that so and so preaches a sermon that will make you a new person. That this Bible study or retreat or seminar is all you need to make your marriage or prayer life or attitude all it should be.
And we’re disappointed. We’re individuals, and different things will appeal to different people. “One size fits all” is almost always a lie.
But it is good to know that God can always meet and exceed the hype. He knows what we desire and more importantly, He knows what we need. And if we trust Him, He will in due time meet our needs and give much, much more.
What Isaiah wrote may sound like hype:
“For when you did awesome things that we did not expect,
you came down, and the mountains trembled before you.
Since ancient times no one has heard,
no ear has perceived,
no eye has seen any God besides you,
who acts on behalf of those who wait for him.”
(You can look it up in Isaiah chapter 64.)
But it’s not just hype and hope will come through.
(Avatar is rated PG-13 for language, violence and sensuality.)
The film that has now made more money than any other film in history hadn’t got any of my dollars. The film that was on all kinds of Best of 2009 lists wasn’t on my list of films I’d seen. Which, since I’m the semi-official film commentator of The Communicator, just didn’t seem right.
My daughter Jill was also feeling some pressure to see the film. Several of her friends had seen Avatar multiple times and were telling her it was a must.
Many of the things I read about the film made it sound like a must. I read that it had conquered technological barriers. The theory known as the “Uncanny Valley” holds that we have no problem seeing cartoons of people. However, the closer those depictions get to reality – while still being just a little bit off -- our senses rebel. Reviewers argued that the director of the film, James Cameron, had overcome “The Uncanny Valley” not only with his creation of humanoid figures (a blue alien race called the Navi) but also with computer generated humans in the film that passed for the real thing.
I’ve loved many of James Cameron’s films, especially the Terminator films, The Abyss and even Titanic , which all had pioneering special effects. Critics proclaimed this to be the best presentation yet, utilizing 3-D technology. (The real raves came from those who saw it in 3-D and IMAX.)
I also followed with interest political, environmental and religious arguments about the film. I read that dialogue in the film mirrored the war on terror. Christian magazines and websites discussed the pantheism and ancestor worship in the film. And Cameron took up a phrase from a right wing review of the film, calling it the equivalent of “Death Wish for environmentalists.”
I read articles about people who left the theater depressed to leave the world of the film (Pandora) and come back to Earth. Pandora was a world full of amazing, beautiful, intelligent flora and fauna that included creatures like dinosaurs and dragons. People came out of the film saying “I want to go to there.”
So expectations were raised high by personal testimonials and the media.
Jill and I agreed that this was a film we should experience in the theater, at least with 3-D if not IMAX, rather than wait for DVD. And the Thursday before the Academy Awards was the last chance to see it before Avatar surrendered its 3-D screens to Alice in Wonderland.
And as often happens when expectations were raised high…they came tumbling down. The theater was about half full, with a chiefly older crowd for the matinee. Yeah, the film looked cool, but a not terribly original plot was made less so by conversations we had heard that spoiled any possible surprises.
About halfway through the film, I went to the rest room. When I returned, Jill said, “You missed several stupid things while you were gone.”
It’s a long film, nearly 3 hours, and we both were getting fidgety 2/3rd of the way through.
We left saying, “Well, we can say we saw it.”
I can’t help but wonder what our reaction would be if we saw it opening night with a theater full of enthusiastic viewers. Would we, too, have wanted to join the world of Pandora, rather than be rather happy to get in the car to get home for dinner?
Hype can boomerang that way. Something gets built up to such a degree that expectations just can’t be met.
It happens in the church, of course. We are told that a book by a Christian author will change your life. We hear that so and so preaches a sermon that will make you a new person. That this Bible study or retreat or seminar is all you need to make your marriage or prayer life or attitude all it should be.
And we’re disappointed. We’re individuals, and different things will appeal to different people. “One size fits all” is almost always a lie.
But it is good to know that God can always meet and exceed the hype. He knows what we desire and more importantly, He knows what we need. And if we trust Him, He will in due time meet our needs and give much, much more.
What Isaiah wrote may sound like hype:
“For when you did awesome things that we did not expect,
you came down, and the mountains trembled before you.
Since ancient times no one has heard,
no ear has perceived,
no eye has seen any God besides you,
who acts on behalf of those who wait for him.”
(You can look it up in Isaiah chapter 64.)
But it’s not just hype and hope will come through.
(Avatar is rated PG-13 for language, violence and sensuality.)
Monday, March 8, 2010
Article for Senior (Student Seniors, that is)
http://youth.ag.org/index.cfm?targetBay=dc5bc32a-70dd-4984-8eea-c735d0ff72cf&ModID=2&Process=DisplayArticle&RSS_RSSContentID=14692&RSS_OriginatingChannelID=1194&RSS_OriginatingRSSFeedID=3475&RSS_Source=
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
THE HURT LOCKER
Just prior to the beginning of the war in Iraq (the 21st century one) I was working behind the hotel front desk and a group of guest (who obviously been enjoying their wine) were discussing that topic loudly. They were in agreement on the proper policy and on the fact that anyone that believed otherwise was either stupid or evil, but they left room for the possibility that some people on the opposing side might be both.
As someone who was, apparently, stupid or evil or both, I was tempted to voice an opposing position. But as an employee, I knew that entering that conversation wouldn’t be wise. Besides, I prefer to avoid conflict.
That topic of conversation continues to be, oh, what is the phrase…a minefield. Some people thrive on diving into such arguments and find a fierce debate stimulating. Some find any disagreement unpleasant and ulcer inspiring. It’s a personality thing.
“The Hurt Locker” is about a man who is looking for more danger than can be found in the thrill of debate. Jeremy Renner plays Staff Sergeant William James, the leader of an elite American Army bomb squad in Iraq circa 2004. James develops an addiction to the dangers of his job.
On assignments to disarm IEDs and other explosive devices, he takes increasing risks. He takes off the protective gear assigned him. He continues to work on bombs as the clock has been clicking too long. He risks not just his own life, but the lives of his fellow soldiers.
And yet, he can argue all the time that the risks he takes are to protect the lives and property of others, fellow soldiers and the Iraqi civilians. So is he taking the risks he takes for himself, or for others?
In one scene in the film, one of James’ barrack mates finds an odd box under a bed. It is full of fuses and detonators and timers. (It is the “hurt locker” of the film’s title.) James explains that the objects are souvenirs from bombs. He remembers the time and place where he acquired each one. He says they remind him that he is alive.
Many of us have hurt lockers. Our most vivid memories are those times when we were in peril. The Apostle Paul certainly had one. In II Corinthians 11 he wrote:
23Are they servants of Christ? (I am out of my mind to talk like this.) I am more. I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again. 24Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. 25Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, 26I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my own countrymen, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false brothers. 27I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked. 28Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches. 29Who is weak, and I do not feel weak? Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn? 30If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.
But I don’t think Paul put himself in danger for the adrenalin rush. Unlike James in the film, or the married person who has an affair to feel the thrill of the forbidden or someone who picks verbal or physical fights just to “feel something”, Paul did what he did because God called him.
God doesn’t call us to live a safe life. But the risks He calls us to take are for the good of others and His glory, not ours. No need to look for trouble. The Beatitudes in Matthew 5 assure us trouble will come. But if we trust in Him, He will give us the strength to face those troubles.
(“The Hurt Locker” is nominated for Best Picture and could well win. It is rated R for violence and language. “Lost” fans should be warned about an unexpected Evangeline Lilly cameo.)
As someone who was, apparently, stupid or evil or both, I was tempted to voice an opposing position. But as an employee, I knew that entering that conversation wouldn’t be wise. Besides, I prefer to avoid conflict.
That topic of conversation continues to be, oh, what is the phrase…a minefield. Some people thrive on diving into such arguments and find a fierce debate stimulating. Some find any disagreement unpleasant and ulcer inspiring. It’s a personality thing.
“The Hurt Locker” is about a man who is looking for more danger than can be found in the thrill of debate. Jeremy Renner plays Staff Sergeant William James, the leader of an elite American Army bomb squad in Iraq circa 2004. James develops an addiction to the dangers of his job.
On assignments to disarm IEDs and other explosive devices, he takes increasing risks. He takes off the protective gear assigned him. He continues to work on bombs as the clock has been clicking too long. He risks not just his own life, but the lives of his fellow soldiers.
And yet, he can argue all the time that the risks he takes are to protect the lives and property of others, fellow soldiers and the Iraqi civilians. So is he taking the risks he takes for himself, or for others?
In one scene in the film, one of James’ barrack mates finds an odd box under a bed. It is full of fuses and detonators and timers. (It is the “hurt locker” of the film’s title.) James explains that the objects are souvenirs from bombs. He remembers the time and place where he acquired each one. He says they remind him that he is alive.
Many of us have hurt lockers. Our most vivid memories are those times when we were in peril. The Apostle Paul certainly had one. In II Corinthians 11 he wrote:
23Are they servants of Christ? (I am out of my mind to talk like this.) I am more. I have worked much harder, been in prison more frequently, been flogged more severely, and been exposed to death again and again. 24Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. 25Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, 26I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my own countrymen, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false brothers. 27I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked. 28Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches. 29Who is weak, and I do not feel weak? Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn? 30If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.
But I don’t think Paul put himself in danger for the adrenalin rush. Unlike James in the film, or the married person who has an affair to feel the thrill of the forbidden or someone who picks verbal or physical fights just to “feel something”, Paul did what he did because God called him.
God doesn’t call us to live a safe life. But the risks He calls us to take are for the good of others and His glory, not ours. No need to look for trouble. The Beatitudes in Matthew 5 assure us trouble will come. But if we trust in Him, He will give us the strength to face those troubles.
(“The Hurt Locker” is nominated for Best Picture and could well win. It is rated R for violence and language. “Lost” fans should be warned about an unexpected Evangeline Lilly cameo.)
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Something I wrote for a Family Humor Contest that didn't win
Mustard
How hard could have been for my mother to remember what my brother and I wanted on our sandwiches? After all, we both wanted liverwurst. Of course, he wanted the Butcher’s Branch liverwurst, which was sliced. Whereas I wanted the braunsweiger that was a spread. Of course, there was the type of bread for her to keep in mind. Now who was it that wanted wheat, and who wanted white?
When it came to which kind of pickle to put on the sandwich, it was simplicity itself. Dale and I both hated sweet pickles and bread and butter pickles. Dill pickles were, and even to this day are, the only pickles Dale and I will eat. Of course, one of us wanted pickle on the liverwurst sandwich and the other didn’t. (Which was easy, really, because Mom just had to remember it was the opposite of the one who wanted dill pickle on a hamburger and who didn’t.)
Now, Mom could get the liverwurst right, and the bread right, and the pickle right, and even remember which sandwich should be sliced and which shouldn’t. None of it would matter if she got the mustard wrong.
My brother Dale preferred French’s mustard, which was a tad spicier than my Morehouse brand mustard. And if you think we couldn’t tell the difference, then you have gravely underestimated the nuanced elementary school palate.
I continue to be astonished that not only did our mother listen to our finicky requests, but that on a fairly regular basis, she fulfilled them. It’s almost more astonishing than a mother’s capacity to clean up vomit or endure scoreless soccer matches.
My mother could remember all of our dry cereal preferences, how dark we liked our toast, the right cheeses for grilled cheese sandwiches, who liked cinnamon on applesauce and who didn’t, tomato soup or chicken noodle, green or red apples, chips or pretzels (and about those chips – corn or potato), and she knew who preferred low fat and who preferred non-fat milk.
I think of my mother while making lunches for my kids. The boy, the oldest, wants peanut butter and jelly on wheat bread, strawberry jam and only Skippy peanut butter – CRUNCHY. The middle child, girl, would like a piece of steak, but if she can’t have that, she’ll settle for no more than five and no less than three pieces of salami on a flour tortilla. The youngest girl – ham, lettuce, Monterey Jack cheese on a hamburger bun.
I sometimes wonder what’s a more fitting cosmic retribution for those liverwurst sandwich demands: my children’s lunch orders or occasional bouts of gout?
How hard could have been for my mother to remember what my brother and I wanted on our sandwiches? After all, we both wanted liverwurst. Of course, he wanted the Butcher’s Branch liverwurst, which was sliced. Whereas I wanted the braunsweiger that was a spread. Of course, there was the type of bread for her to keep in mind. Now who was it that wanted wheat, and who wanted white?
When it came to which kind of pickle to put on the sandwich, it was simplicity itself. Dale and I both hated sweet pickles and bread and butter pickles. Dill pickles were, and even to this day are, the only pickles Dale and I will eat. Of course, one of us wanted pickle on the liverwurst sandwich and the other didn’t. (Which was easy, really, because Mom just had to remember it was the opposite of the one who wanted dill pickle on a hamburger and who didn’t.)
Now, Mom could get the liverwurst right, and the bread right, and the pickle right, and even remember which sandwich should be sliced and which shouldn’t. None of it would matter if she got the mustard wrong.
My brother Dale preferred French’s mustard, which was a tad spicier than my Morehouse brand mustard. And if you think we couldn’t tell the difference, then you have gravely underestimated the nuanced elementary school palate.
I continue to be astonished that not only did our mother listen to our finicky requests, but that on a fairly regular basis, she fulfilled them. It’s almost more astonishing than a mother’s capacity to clean up vomit or endure scoreless soccer matches.
My mother could remember all of our dry cereal preferences, how dark we liked our toast, the right cheeses for grilled cheese sandwiches, who liked cinnamon on applesauce and who didn’t, tomato soup or chicken noodle, green or red apples, chips or pretzels (and about those chips – corn or potato), and she knew who preferred low fat and who preferred non-fat milk.
I think of my mother while making lunches for my kids. The boy, the oldest, wants peanut butter and jelly on wheat bread, strawberry jam and only Skippy peanut butter – CRUNCHY. The middle child, girl, would like a piece of steak, but if she can’t have that, she’ll settle for no more than five and no less than three pieces of salami on a flour tortilla. The youngest girl – ham, lettuce, Monterey Jack cheese on a hamburger bun.
I sometimes wonder what’s a more fitting cosmic retribution for those liverwurst sandwich demands: my children’s lunch orders or occasional bouts of gout?
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