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. . . after driving for 5 long hours, then stumbling around the corner of the little house to this stunning view of the sea . . . |
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| Big man, but the BIGGEST cedar! |
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| At old homestead in Quinault rainforest |
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| Worker guy lighting his barbeque |
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| Fabulous breeze and Eliot gets his kite to do some acrobatics into the sunset. |
Tim writes: Beneath the small painting (bottom) Blake wrote in easy to decipher script "everything is an attempt to be human"
In my family we went to church on Sunday morning. We were a family of split religious arrangements, because my Mother was a Presbyterian and my father was Catholic.
The Presbyterians were for the most part down to business. One service at 11 and the doors were shut at noon unless you stayed for an extra hour in the basement for socializing. Holy, holy, holy God in three persons and raise that head up and go home and accomplish something.
The Presbyterians were honest, self-motivated and well connected in Omak. The social clubs were very active and the church was a hub of activity but not too many spiritual experiences were had therein.
Going to church at the Presbyterian church was a huge commitment of time and energy for me as a twelve-year-old kid. Especially since my mother, loved to tell people what was on her mind. We always stayed for the social gathering after church and I would stand around waiting to go home and be with my friends and my stuff.
I have failed to mention that I was mostly mortified after the church service because during the singing of the hymns, my mother, who had a singing voice worse than even my own embarrassing attempt to sing, belted out the hymns really loud. And all the while I was shaking with trepidation that this awkward moment was going to somehow reflect badly upon me in a social way.
I was always anxious and fidgeting on the way home from the Presbyterian Church as I was always taken to the social limit of my ability to endure respectively.
My father never went to the Presbyterian Church. Being the Presbyterian was my mother's responsibility and for the most part we kids went along with it. It was about the only thing we did with Mother other than eat and sleep.
My father added diversity in our family by being the Catholic. Dad was darker and swarthier (as swarthy as a mostly Scottish man can be) and my mother's parents always were suspicious of my father for being Catholic.
Unlike the Presbyterians Catholics like to have church going all the time. There are masses on Friday night, Saturday afternoon and evenings and then an expansive schedule for Sunday. You could never say, "Oh I am so sorry we missed church," because a service was always about to start.
Going to the Catholic Church on Sundays was the home run of going to Church. My Dad was a restless man but he always found a way to go to service on Sunday. In fact he sometimes went a few times over the weekend. But my father had a secret. He didn't stay long at church.
The days we went to church with my Father was a big hurray for me because I knew we would be in and out of the service before you barely got uncomfortable sitting on the pew. We would blow into church ten minutes early and my father would take a seat in the back. He never explained the holy water at door into the sanctuary but my brother and I would look at each other and then slap the water on our foreheads like we knew what we were doing.
As opposed to the Presbyterian Church the Catholic sanctuary was mysterious with people speaking Latin and incense and prayer beads and the fourth holy of holies Mary mother of Christ. Mary's a big deal to Catholics. "Hail Mary, mother of god" is an important litany and the presence of Mary can be felt very heavily even in Omak.
I always felt a spiritual yearning while in the Catholic Church that I never felt at the Presbyterian Church. I developed a sense of other worldly experiences at that little wood framed church. A majority of the people at the Catholic Church were the salt of the earth, and while this was much different from my social milieu in Omak, this also appealed to my youthful personal beliefs. However, because I was at church with my father these ideas remained fragments of beliefs until I was older because there was no time to expand my thoughts. We just never stayed long enough at church for my little brain to develop these Ideas.
About ten minutes into the service it was time for a collection to be taken up and my dad always felt if money was to be gathered he was the man for the job. Dad would grab the collection basket, which was connected to a broom handle, and shove it down the aisles of patrons and do his best to elicit donations. In fact, he would keep the basket nearer to those who he knew should give more.
My father was in the credit bureau business, and he knew more about the finances of people in Okanogan County than anyone, so he knew who could give and who could not. After my father had collected the tithing successfully he began to become restless. We would fiddle with the prayer beads and listen to some Latin verses about Christ and the holy Mother Mary and then look up at the statue of Mary.
And then the next thing we knew my Father would say it was time to go. Yes, my brother and I were sprung from Church by our Parent no less. We could go home and change our clothes and get on our bikes and it wasn't even 11:30 yet. How good could life be.
We never stayed long enough for communion or went to confession so I am not really sure what to do or say about that. I have always felt more like a Catholic because of the dark mysteries of the church's spirituality appealed to me more than the Presbyterian alternative, but I only know what happens at mass during the first twenty minutes. And no matter how many times we went with Dad to a service we always left after about twenty minutes.
From the earliest of my consciousness I always felt that going to church was an odd way to try and grasp our inherent spirituality but I applaud my parents for marching us off to Church and have us make an attempt at some sort of social commitment.
My own children went to Catholic middle schools and high schools and the few times I went to mass at their school chapels I felt comfortable and peaceful staying through the entire service and knowing that my Dad would be happy, with me staying for the entire show, if only he had the sensibility for it.
And oh yes, Dad, thanks for the extra time to be a kid and have fun. I needed it.
CHARLES
