Last night I slept in the back of the SUV but had a little more room as I left old Charlie my faithful pooch in the loving care of my neighbors. I asked old Charlie if he wanted to come, thinking that upon reflection he might have had a change of mind. But when I asked him, he just laid down and let out one of those long dog sighs that says thanks but no thanks. Now I know that a lot of people don't know that dogs are quite skilled at communicating, but they are. Perhaps they just get tired of no one listening. Ha. Are we any different in that respect?
I woke up at 5:15 am, or 6:15 from the EST zone where I began the night before, but here in Anniston, Alabama it is CST, which pushed me back an hour. My choice for a parking lot was behind the church by a Wachovia (Wells Fargo) building. An old McDonalds large coffee cup served as my latrine and I tinkled to begin my day. Then I went to go dump it in the grassy area by the curb. As I got out of my car, I noticed I had some company. The police car I worried about last week was about 15 feet behind my car, no doubt running a check on my plates and here I am holding a cup of urine in my hands. Nice. After watering the grass, I put the cup into a waste basket nearby, and walked over to the police car with my hands in clear view. I was careful, they were dry. HA. I explained that I was from out of town, and just waiting for the church to open for the 8:10 mass. The window rolled down on the cruiser to reveal a lovely young officer who had a vague resemblance to Olivia Hussey. She was quite pretty and I remembered how well Olivia Hussey played Mary in an epic movie about Jesus. She smiled softly and needed no words to assure me she meant me no harm, in fact she seemed pleased to hear that someone was interested in going to church. I asked her where a person might find a good cup of Joe, and she told me about a vending machine a few blocks away. I asked again, explaining I was hoping for something a little more inviting. Again she smiled, and told me of a McDonalds on 19th street, eight blocks down the road. Her southern Alabama accent was as sweet and smooth as the syrup I put on my pancakes. It was nothing short of beautiful. In all honesty, her kindness, smile and that sweet voice was a near perfect way to start the day, though I was a little embarrassed about how I must have appeared to her on our first meeting. I also thought, how sad it is that so many folks up north associate a southern accent with a lack of intelligence. And then I had to laugh, knowing that this young police woman could teach a lot to some Yankees about gentility and warmth.
Last night as I pulled off of I-20, I stopped at a Texaco station to fill up the tank with some gas. When I went in to pay, I noticed a big rack of baseball hats and thought for some reason it would be fun to get something from Alabama to remember my first trip there. There were caps with FBI, CSI, Border Patrol and stuff like that. But there were also a bunch of baseball hats proclaiming Jesus and they were pretty cool too. One looked like a John Deere hat crossed with something one might use while deer hunting. Another looked like a baseball hat, with King of Kings on the front and a little crown of thorns on the visor. Yeah, I really am enjoying myself in Alabama. And I remembered the sign as I crossed over the state line. Welcome to Beautiful Alabama. Yes, it certainly is. Beautiful.
Just added a few pictures from the trip to Alabama, via Georgia, and South Carolina.
The text above was written at about 6:30 am, racing off to go to mass at Sacred Heart of Jesus Catholic Church in Anniston, Alabama. I forgot to mention how cold it was last night. Probably 25 degrees, and yes, I was not very comfortable and had to put the sleeping bag over my head to stay warm. The McDonalds coffee felt really wonderful, and I really thankful the police woman was so kind. The text above was written at MCD's, while enjoying some pancakes. (yes, aok with the no food an hour before, relax). I got the mass time as 8:10 am from an old web site on the internet, and darn... it was no longer happening. I was at the church at 7:00 am, and doing the readings from the Divine Office, very much looking forward to going to mass. As it got closer to 8:00 am, I began to get nervous. The doors were locked and I called the church's recorded numbers - to get the mass schedule. But they only offered Sat and Sunday mass times. OH NO !!! For me, a day without mass, is like a day without sunshine. I was bummed, and also a little sad. Next to the church was the school, and there was a bunch of moms doing their high power walks around the school grounds, so I held out hope. The recorded message said the offices opened at 8:00 am, but no one was around at 8:30 when I finally lost hope. I quickly did my best to search the net on my mobile phone for alternatives, but there were none.
In closing, let me say my deepest and most heartfelt thank you to Father Pat and Msgr. Richard at St. Mark in Huntersville, NC. Our church offers 2 - yes TWO daily masses each day, at 7:00 am and 9:00 am. I never thought about how draining this must be, but I did this morning, and I so thankful for your discipline to be there, rain or shine, (or snow, like Monday). And you are there to let us in early too, to prepare for the celebration. Now, we are a big parish, but it wasn't that many years ago - that the church was held at the bowling alley, and back in the day, folks like to call it, Our Lady of the Lanes. As Joni Mitchell mused in Big Yellow Taxi - you don't know what you got till it's gone. I knew all too well this morning. For me it was like Good Friday, the one day of the year no mass is held in Catholic Churches around the world. And yes, there were tears, but these were not like the tears of thanks and joy I have during mass. Those are happy tears, like how a mother would feel seeing her son return from combat overseas. I remembered Dorothy from the wizard of oz, there's no place like home, and I got back on the road and drove straight there with a single stop for gas, with four Allison Krauss and Union station CDs and Sam Cook blaring, with lots of prayers for my friends and family, and for our country, and all the good folks I meet everyehre I go. Tomorrow is Friday, St. Patricks. No meat and fasting will be a breeze.
