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In Dwelling

I'm Roz, and this is my relaxed space. It's about fun, good conversation and — well yes — good conversation. Pull up a well-padded armchair and help yourself to something to drink. You'll find cheese and crackers on the sideboard. What's new with you?

If you're looking for things in a more serious or spiritual vein, you can check out Exultet where I write that sort of thing.

Cowboys and, uh, Canadians

I had the good fortune to marry into a Canadian family. I'm pleased to be an honorary Canuck. Many Statesiders are unaware of any substantial differences between Canadians and Americans -- gee, they must be just like us, aren't they? -- but Canadians know better. There is a unique Canadian culture. Unfortunately, the Canadians I know can't seem to quite put their finger on what it is.  But they know it's not American.
 
Well, here's help, and an amusing read it is. Titled Go Ahead, Call Us Cowboys, it profiles two small towns on the Yukon/Alaska border, capturing some of the difference in cultural spirit. Any of us who can abstain from a criticalness while reading (hint hint, gentle readers) will be able to enjoy the strengths of each culture, even as we probably prefer our own.
 
Here's an excerpt:
We made this trip in the first week of July. The "Canada Day" celebrations that took place in Stewart on July 1 were very vanilla. They included a "jaws of life" rescue equipment demonstration, a Name the Babies Contest, and the Annual Community Potluck Dinner in the early evening.

Three days later on July 4, Hyder spiced its national celebration with dashes of politically incorrect cayenne. There was an Ugly Vehicle Contest featuring pickups held together with duct tape and decorated with moose antlers (unlike the shiny ones in the driveways). There were parades of children with pets, toy guns and cowboy costumes. There was a Wilderness Woman Contest. Contestants raced to split wood, wash clothes, shoot a bear, flip pancakes, change a baby, and put on lipstick. The winner did it all barefoot.

Even Hyderites recognize their limits--in an earlier year's self-staged July 4 fireworks display, they had accidentally burned down their fire hall with the fire engine inside. So this year Hyder hired Canadian experts to stage the pyrotechnics. The show started around midnight, during the late evening barbecue. Stewart residents courteously joined in the fun, bringing new government trucks and a poodle.


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Culture shock

I've been in Seattle this week on business, my first visit to this fair city. It is as pretty as you may have heard. The sun burns off the clouds by noon; and between the sunshine on the hills and water, Mt. Ranier hovering in the distance, and the salty tang in the air, I'm wowed.

New Age philosophies and (oh, let's just call a spade a spade) devotional practices are very common in these parts. I came face to face with one during an opening exercise for the first group meeting of my new organization. One of the members, who is 1/4 Native American, led us in an activity which included identifying whichever particular one of an assortment of stones and rocks "called to us", finding out about that rock's spiritual characteristics, and sharing what we felt about why that rock was right for us.

In my opinion, it's difficult enough relating to the human beings in my life with empathy and sensitivity without developing a relationship with a rock. I did what I could to relate to the exercise in the context of my faith in Christ and enjoyed calling to mind what Jesus said about the importance of building on a Rock instead of on a foundation of sand. But at the point the facilitator stated that the rocks would have actual powers to bring about good in our lives I threw in the towel, unable to participate. I was tactful and subtle, mind you, but that stone went back onto the table.

What amazes me is that no one in the room would have considered it a religious exercise. The presenter was careful to include such a disclaimer at the beginning. But it baffles me that people can deny that God's fullness dwelt in a Man and is made present to us in the sacraments, yet believe that power for good dwells in a stone.

I mean, who would you rather have on your side -- the loving almighty Father who would go to any length (and has) for your good, or piece of feldspar?
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  • About
      Name:: Roz
      Hometown:: Ann Arbor, MI
      Mother of several, grandmother of a couple, wife to one very good man. My epitaph will probably read, "Well, you just never know." Life is good, but it takes unexpected turns. Good thing I like surprises.


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    And if you're interested in what I have to say in a more serious vein, check out Exultet.

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