Earthworm of Bluster
Mar. 29th, 2018 09:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoYou know that thing called a "Kafkaesque nightmare" that people talk about? I actually had one last night. I was somewhere that resembled Boston, attending a con. I had just arrived and was trying to register. The con hadn't told anyone about programming ahead of time. To save money and be ecologically aware, they weren't giving out schedules. You had to go to one of the function rooms and find one of the few program books available there, and look yourself up.
I finally located a book and was trying to find myself in it, but another participant said she'd been using it first and she wasn't done with it, so I was polite and let her have it. I hadn't seen any names beginning with Z yet. I wasn't sure if that meant that I hadn't been assigned any programming, or that there was another section of the book that I hadn't found yet. For this con, all the programming was taking place off-site, in local restaurants and bars and university buildings. So you couldn't go around and check the room schedules. And you'd have to use public transportation to get there. And the trains and buses had a new policy of requiring users to reserve a seat and buy tickets ahead of time. So you couldn't just show up and get aboard--even if you knew the way to the station, which I didn't. I felt that even if I could find out where I was supposed to be, there was a good chance I wouldn't be able to get there. Convention attendance as a multi-player puzzle of indirection! KafkaCon? ConKafka? Either way, it seems the appropriate greeting would have to be "Gesundheit!"
Tonight, we were watching "Wings of Desire." I love that movie. The circus in the movie reminded me that it's Holy Thursday--a day when all good Catholics are supposed to attend Mass in memory of the Last Supper. It could be that my downfall from being one of those good Catholics began when I went to the circus on Holy Thursday. It happened like this . . . .
I worked as an editor while the Sparrowhawk was in graduate school. We had three children and very little money. Those were the days of making four pork chops from the expired food bin go around to five people by cutting them up for stir-fry, and then boiling the bones to add a bit of flavor to some beans or something. Anything free was a thrill. When I saw a pile of free tickets to the circus being given away to employees, I was excited.
I had grown up in a family with four children and not much money. My great-grandmother, Granny, and my great-aunt, Aunt Emily, lived in Chicago, where Emmy worked in the Florsheim shoe factory. Several times, in the summer, we all went to Chicago on the train, because we didn't have a car then, and visited them in their walk-up apartment on the third floor. Granny had lent my father the money she'd saved up to get false teeth so he could go to college. He never forgot that, and every month as long as she lived, long after he'd repaid her, he sent them a little money. It made him very cross when they spent their money on foolish things, like gifts for their many young relatives. Nevertheless, on one memorable occasion, Granny took us all to the Ringling Brothers circus in downtown Chicago.
There were elephants and tigers, and liberty horses with beautiful girls performing acrobatic feats on their dappled backs, and trapeze artists, and clowns, and fire-eaters. Granny bought my brother a toy sword painted red and gold. That night was an unforgettable marvel. When I saw a chance to take my own children to the circus, I grabbed those tickets like there was no tomorrow. And then I realized that it was Holy Thursday--a Holy Day of Obligation, which means you MUST go to Mass or it's a mortal sin. Rather like Huckleberry Finn deciding, "All right, then, I'll go to hell," I crossed the Rubicon and took the kids to the circus. And they saw the elephants and tigers, trapeze artists and clowns and beautiful ladies performing amazing feats, and ate popcorn and cotton candy. I didn't go to confession about it, either, because I wasn't sorry. I wished that I could have sneaked Jesus out of that upper room and taken him to the circus, too. I think he would have enjoyed seeing his elephants again.
EDITED TO ADD: The ever-meticulous Sparrowhawk just looked it up, and informed me that Holy Thursday was NEVER a Holy Day of Obligation! Probably, he says, because they just assumed everyone would go. Holy frack . . . I'm . . . I'm flabbergasted! Guess I dodged that bullet. Callooh, callay, I'm not going to hell after all . . . oh, except for all the other times I didn't go to Mass, with no such excuse. Ah well. See you at the circus.
I finally located a book and was trying to find myself in it, but another participant said she'd been using it first and she wasn't done with it, so I was polite and let her have it. I hadn't seen any names beginning with Z yet. I wasn't sure if that meant that I hadn't been assigned any programming, or that there was another section of the book that I hadn't found yet. For this con, all the programming was taking place off-site, in local restaurants and bars and university buildings. So you couldn't go around and check the room schedules. And you'd have to use public transportation to get there. And the trains and buses had a new policy of requiring users to reserve a seat and buy tickets ahead of time. So you couldn't just show up and get aboard--even if you knew the way to the station, which I didn't. I felt that even if I could find out where I was supposed to be, there was a good chance I wouldn't be able to get there. Convention attendance as a multi-player puzzle of indirection! KafkaCon? ConKafka? Either way, it seems the appropriate greeting would have to be "Gesundheit!"
Tonight, we were watching "Wings of Desire." I love that movie. The circus in the movie reminded me that it's Holy Thursday--a day when all good Catholics are supposed to attend Mass in memory of the Last Supper. It could be that my downfall from being one of those good Catholics began when I went to the circus on Holy Thursday. It happened like this . . . .
I worked as an editor while the Sparrowhawk was in graduate school. We had three children and very little money. Those were the days of making four pork chops from the expired food bin go around to five people by cutting them up for stir-fry, and then boiling the bones to add a bit of flavor to some beans or something. Anything free was a thrill. When I saw a pile of free tickets to the circus being given away to employees, I was excited.
I had grown up in a family with four children and not much money. My great-grandmother, Granny, and my great-aunt, Aunt Emily, lived in Chicago, where Emmy worked in the Florsheim shoe factory. Several times, in the summer, we all went to Chicago on the train, because we didn't have a car then, and visited them in their walk-up apartment on the third floor. Granny had lent my father the money she'd saved up to get false teeth so he could go to college. He never forgot that, and every month as long as she lived, long after he'd repaid her, he sent them a little money. It made him very cross when they spent their money on foolish things, like gifts for their many young relatives. Nevertheless, on one memorable occasion, Granny took us all to the Ringling Brothers circus in downtown Chicago.
There were elephants and tigers, and liberty horses with beautiful girls performing acrobatic feats on their dappled backs, and trapeze artists, and clowns, and fire-eaters. Granny bought my brother a toy sword painted red and gold. That night was an unforgettable marvel. When I saw a chance to take my own children to the circus, I grabbed those tickets like there was no tomorrow. And then I realized that it was Holy Thursday--a Holy Day of Obligation, which means you MUST go to Mass or it's a mortal sin. Rather like Huckleberry Finn deciding, "All right, then, I'll go to hell," I crossed the Rubicon and took the kids to the circus. And they saw the elephants and tigers, trapeze artists and clowns and beautiful ladies performing amazing feats, and ate popcorn and cotton candy. I didn't go to confession about it, either, because I wasn't sorry. I wished that I could have sneaked Jesus out of that upper room and taken him to the circus, too. I think he would have enjoyed seeing his elephants again.
EDITED TO ADD: The ever-meticulous Sparrowhawk just looked it up, and informed me that Holy Thursday was NEVER a Holy Day of Obligation! Probably, he says, because they just assumed everyone would go. Holy frack . . . I'm . . . I'm flabbergasted! Guess I dodged that bullet. Callooh, callay, I'm not going to hell after all . . . oh, except for all the other times I didn't go to Mass, with no such excuse. Ah well. See you at the circus.
all the fun people are going to hell
Date: 2018-03-30 05:19 am (UTC)love this story. (also, yeah, i didn't *think* holy thursday was an obligatory church thing, but my memory's so holey, i just went with it.)
no subject
Date: 2018-03-30 12:31 pm (UTC)