Sunday Susie Memories

I rose later on Sunday, with my alarm waking me at 6:30 and my realization that church service had moved to 11 and I could roll over, but I did rise before 7 and, with the orchids reveling in the cold 66F (19C) morning, got my robe and started writing the blog. I also found the coffee and ended another bag of Equal Exchange French Roast by dumping it in the French Press. This produced an extra dark mix and was full of liberal. I looked in the French press, and equity and fairness were floating on the surface. Further down, there is a hint of justice, compassion, and goodness for the community. There was no hint in my brew of demanding things or acquisitions, and it certainly was not about what I feared or wanted changes to improve my finances. There was no inward focus in this cup of joe. I was having a cup of strong coffee flavored with hope for all of us, “We the People.”

I wrote the blog in the early morning with coffee and a small bowl of cold baked beans left over from yesterday’s lunch. I managed to recall most of Saturday and the game I played. I created a narrative only once or twice, discovering something I missed. I find that my mind, knowing that today was the anniversary of Susie’s death, distracts me with something else to think about. I am unusually interested in what I want to wear, and thoughts about AI fill my mind, not sad thoughts about missing Susie or memories of her passing. I know it is me trying to protect myself and let my mind drift.

I finished the blog and dressed for church, selecting the green sweater vest, pride tie, and Cole Hann dress shoes with dark socks. The shirt is grey with a button-down collar from L.L. Bean. I find their shirts wear well, and the permanent press shirts, if removed from the dryer while warm, will require no ironing and look perfect every time. My cotton blend pants are also from L.L. Bean and also are permanent press. My belt is on the last hole, and my pants are starting to fit less and less; I have no complaints about that.

I remembered loading the pumpkin muffins I made the night before in Air Volvo, and the flowers I bought yesterday still looked good in the cargo hold. The passage to Beaverton Old Town is without issue, and there is no traffic on Sunday mornings. I am too early, and the previous worship service is still in the breaking down process, and folks are chatting. I stay out of the way and sit until the Emmaus church is finished and our folks for First United Methodist, Beaverton, begin their set-up. I delivered the muffins to the kitchen and returned for the service.

I had coffee and watched Jack refill the oil in the candles (these are oil lamps in the shape of candle sticks), and I took the lighter and lit them. As the senior usher, I knew the ritual and walked calmly down the center with the lighter in front of me, stepping up, pausing, and lighting the right and left with a respectful pause. I then went and turned on the cross. I received comments about getting a gold star, and that next time, I should wear a robe from my less-than-helpful and smirking Methodists. These comments remembered of all the acolytes that came before, a happy memory.

I sat through the rest of the service. The hymns were easy again, and I found my voice to sing them. Only once did I get the words wrong, and with the words displayed, I did not get on the wrong verse or song today. I am not someone you should follow when singing!

Pastor Ken picked the letter from Paul, the second one to Corinthians, chapter four. This is Paul at his usual unfriendly and directness, and Andrew, our liturgist today, managed to make it sound almost friendly, using his lawyer superpowers. Ken focused on Paul’s message about the words and teaching of Jesus to be a treasure inside us, the plain jars of this world, and not the stars-powered media-supported influencers that get the attention now and even in cosmopolitan Corinth of two thousand years ago. We will always disappoint as we are not the focus, nor should we try to be. We follow Jesus; we don’t take Jesus with us like Jesus was some expensive shoes worn by a social media influencer, but we go where Jesus goes.

Later, I spoke to Michael and asked him what he thought of the use of words of jars and veiled in the text of 2 Corinthian. We know that old scripture was buried in caves as it was still holy even when worn and needing to be retired (this is why we have the Dead Sea scrolls and other text). We also know that amphoras–cheap clay jars set in ships without a base–were used to ship goods in ancient times, the containers or milk carts of ancient days. Plain container filled with delicious goods and wines, with Corinth being a significant trading post, was this Paul’s idea? I also asked Michael to think about what the usage of veiled is connected to. Some fun in Greek and research, Michael’s fav.

The potluck included a main dish: BBQ beef on buns from the church. I had a few samples of the other items and the BBQ beef. I wanted just enough to cut my hunger as dinner promised to be heavy tonight. I left early before the cake was served.

I boarded Air Volvo, drove to Johnson’s home, and dropped off flowers. Cory, a good friend for years and a brilliant Dungeons and Dragons player, passed away a few days before Susie last year. I learned they had another loss this week, and they were happy to see me and enjoyed the flowers.

I headed to Barnes and Noble to purchase my usual magazines. I spent most of the afternoon just relaxing, chatting, and reading. With a copy of “Fine Modeler” and a UK-based electronic periodical, Air Volvo returned me to the Volvo Cave. I rested until about 5.

Air Volvo took me to BJ’s Brewhouse, and I arranged to have a drink at the bar while I waited for the rest of the folks to show up. Mo was working tonight, but we had Mo arrange Courtney as our waiter (Mo was filling in for someone—she does not usually work Sundays) and stayed with the plan. Mariah joined me at the bar, and Dondrea and Z soon appeared. We were seated and met Courtney, and we had tables and chairs arranged for six.

Deborah sent me a photo of a drink in honor of Susie while I was at the bar. I am sure, dear reader, many of you remembered Susie with a drink or a happy thought. Thank you all.

During dinner, we had many toasts to Susie and good friends.

I ordered some appetizers. And Orange marmalade calamari was soon before us. Z’s first encounter with this food with tentacles. Later, I ordered pot stickers, fried, not grilled, followed (both suggestions from Mo and heartily endorsed by Courtney). Z found Jambalaya on the menu and decided to try that–most of it disappeared inside Z. Dondrea and I both went with the Midwest-style prime rib, giant slices, baked potato and asparagus, and a salad. Mariah and Corwin (who was late, and Courtney accepted the role of shaming him for being late with a smile) both went with the double pork chop. We told a few funny stories about Susie and kept the dinner happy and lively. The booze helped (Z was full of sugar), and Courtney was perfect. Dessert, coming with most meals, was shared.

Sober and tired, I headed home as the party broke up. I paid the bill for everyone. One of the starting conditions was not to look at the price and order what you wanted. Everyone was happy, fed, and had another good memory for a sad day. A perfect ending for the day.

When I returned home, it was too early to head to bed, so I watched another episode of “Slow Horses”–this season is quite good and less dark. I showered and put on my PJs, read New Orleans history and a reprint from 1912, a recently made guidebook, and checked a 1927 atlas (yes, I have that for the Call of Cthulhu play). I plan to visit the Storytown sites (the NOLA official and regulated red light district before WW1); I have read that only one building is left. This is not in the French Quarter (filled with Spanish architecture after the French town burned, but why quibble). More to follow on that when I am there.

Sleep comes, but I wake up often and later have leg cramps and disturbing dreams. I do manage to sleep enough, but I thought for a while I would rise at 3ish, as happens some nights. I was relieved to wake up today, Monday, after 7.

Thanks for reading!