The Tiger (who turns 17 next month) got himself a new pad.
He traded four cords of wood (about $200) for a little camper trailer that's parked in the Sanford's backyard.
It looks like a total junker, but he loves it. After spending 16 years sleeping on the living room couch he's now got his own space. He's got a mini fridge, stereo, fan, and now a window AC. Hopefully he'll blow a circuit before he blows himself up.
Plus, there's something about The Tiger that makes him really identify with the Mexican immigrants he works with. They all live in trailers like these out in the mesquite fields they live and work in. The Tiger was born and bred in Texas, but he connects with the illegals he works with. He's even picked up some Spanish over the years.
I wonder what I'd actually do with money if I had money to blow on trivial things...
Oh baby, I use to have money. And did I ever blow it on trivial things. Trivial is a relevant and/or flexible term. But when you don't have money, you learn real quick what's necessary and what's trivial.
It's funny to listen to the justifications we all make for trivial spending.
On a semi-related note...
Today I brought Obi-Wan a small 30cc roto-tiller that needed to be fixed. I haven't been able to get it started in over a year. Since I use Obi-Wan's big tiller for our garden, this small one is perfect for flower beds, thus I only need it twice a year. But it would be the perfect sized tiller to weed in between the rows of Obi-Wan's garden...if it would run.
Using the K.I.S.S. method (keep it simple stupid), Obi-Wan found a small fuel line that was disconnected from the carburetor pump bubble. That was what kept it from starting for the last year. I am an idiot. I saw that fuel line and assumed it was supposed to be hanging out in the open (can you see why I'm an agent as I have no marketable skills?).
But I remember thinking a few months ago that if I had money, I'd have taken that tiller to the repair shop. And those guys would have charged me at least $30 to get it running. And they never would have told me it was an easy fix. $30...down the tubes. And that's big money in my universe these days.
I guess it's good to be in a place where I have to search for alternative means and short cuts for spending money.
I hope the lessons I learn from this period in life will stick with me forever.
This evening we went next door to the Sanford's and Manuel's backyard for a Memorial Day BBQ.
Basically, a few pieces of rotted wood can separate vast cultural differences. And that separation is not an isolation. The Sanford's and Manuel have their way and my family has ours. But somehow we join together for BBQ and cheap beer.
Manuel's nephew Valentine was in from Austin where he drives a cement truck for a living. Plus a few of the guys that work with Manuel were there with their women.
The men sit on one side of the food table, women on the other. All the men speak Spanish except for me. The Tiger and The Bulldog can fake Spanish pretty good. But I'm screwed.
A new observation: Tejano music has got to be the most positive music on the planet. I've studied music theory in college, so I swear: there's not a single minor chord in Tejano music. Everything's happy & peppy. Spanish people have some of the lowest paying jobs and cruddiest living arrangements, but you'd never know it in their music.
I love the other side of the fence. Thank you CEO for the celebration tonight.
This is a real treat. I mean, I haven't bought beer in well over a year. Probably 2 years.
Now I've drank beer during that time, usually at neighbor's backyard gatherings, etc. But their beer is always bad beer.
Not that I have any right to criticize a man's beer. But when I use to buy beer, I always bought high quality beer. You know, yuppie white-boy stuff. I figure beer is something to be consumed by a standard of quality, not quantity. If I pay more for it, I will savor it and not abuse it.
But I haven't been able to afford beer in 2 years. So, woe is me.
But after our financial gift the other day, I figure I'll bite the bullet and buy my favorite beer after 2 years of waiting. I can spend money on much better things than beer. But what the hell.
So yesterday I'm out with The Bossman discussing the ways of the CEO over Nat Shermans and cheap cigars and I tell him of my plan to buy beer.
"Well hey", he says, "I was going to buy you some at the base commissary"
So...I was given a 6 pack of my all time fave. Woo-hoo!
Received a huge financial gift tonight from an unexpected source. Just in the nick of time (as always) since the mortgage is due on the 1st.
I don't know how to write these testimonies. I mean, I don't want to exaggerate anything. So I don't. And I don't want to write about them in a hyper/giddy fashion like a kid on Christmas. Because it's NOT Christmas.This is just life. Faith. Something. I think I'm getting use to it (finally). If I act all freak-a-zoid every time a prayer gets answered that would be the same as if I wasn't expecting it to be answered at all, like I was surprised it was answered. I guess.
The CEO told me he'd provide and so far he always has. Just when I need it. Always in an unexpected way (to keep me from getting fat, lazy, and wuss-i-fied, I guess).
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...and in the what the hell department...
Yesterday I get a package from an Uncle of mine I have little contact with. I mean, I've talked to him about 3 times in the last 12 years. I've always liked him. He's the most down-to-earth member of my family. He's a very generous, no nonsense kind of guy who drives a tour bus in So Cal for a living. I'm told he's dying of cancer.
Anyway, I open this totally unexpected package. It was not one, but two brand new Swiss Army wrist watches (mens & womens). I mean, the things are worth like $250 a piece.
A simple note attached: "B - Thought you guys would like these. Love you. Uncle"
I called him to thank him. He had bought these with some kind of Marlboro catalog points.
Funny thing is that I needed a watch real bad about 2 months ago. But I broke down and bought some cheap-o wal-mart watch for $6.
In some ways I can't see wearing a $250 watch. I'd never have bought that for myself in a million years. But these look great. Very simple and functional (not all gaudy and frilly, etc).
Maybe I'm supposed to wear it. Maybe I'm supposed to pass them along. Maybe I'm supposed to wear it for a while then pass them along...
Still being in Abilene after college graduation 12 years ago, old college friends assume I'm here to be part of "the scene". I guess that means the church-of-christ (coc) scene and/or the religious culture scene. Because, why else would someone honestly remain in Abilene after college graduation. A good paying job? The church scene?
Far from it.
If anything, the fair mother city's thick religious culture forces me farther away from this city's prevailing personality more and more daily.
"Abilene's the place to be trained to become a missionary. Not BE a missionary." Or...that's the vibe I read from those who were schooled at one of the three religious universities here.
If given the green light from the CEO, I'd be outta here in no time flat. I think.
Sure, despite her pathetic wages, the fair mother city has a very respectable cost of living and above average quality of life. It also seems like a descent place to raise kids. But I don't know what would make a town a bad place to raise children. One with sharp objects laying around? I don't know.
I'm here for one thing and one thing only. The CEO told me to blend in with the scenery, be real (whatever that means) and befriend the poor.
I'm not the poor's answer to anything.
Far, far from it.
I'm not sure what the hell I am.
In fact, just when i think I've got "ministry to the poor" all figured out (like I was some kind of self-appointed expert or something), my whole paradigm gets drop-kicked and all that I've learned gets thrown out the window.
But the fair mother city has more than her share of poor people around. Every city does.
Do you live in Abilene and not notice the poor? I challenge you to exclusively hang out on the northern half of town for a week or so (that means no visiting "Little Dallas" ie: the mall, Buffalo Gap Rd, Southwest Dr. area). Use your feet or bike as transportation. Or drive on as many minor thoroughfares as possible (N. Mockingbird, Grape, Pine). Go to grocery stores like Lawrence Bros on Ambler, or United on N. 10th & Willis or HEB...especially around the first 5 days of the month (that's when the govt issues checks to people on disability and social security).
The religious culture of Abilene has produced a) many churches and variants of religious non-profs, b) many church trends, c) political struggles within the churches, d) new church terminology and big words out of the mouths of local seminary students and their respecting churches.
But none of this benefits the poor and thus, kingdom of the CEO. Or so that's my input on this subject. Take it or leave it.
The poor do not exist at the fault of Abilene's religious culture. But I suspect there's a greater chasm between the poor and the church people because of this culture.
Therefore, I know the CEO has kept me here for something along the lines of "hanging with the poor". For the most part, they are an unreached people group.
But some days I don't have a clue of what I'm supposed to do about it.
I'm still listening to the CEO. And making things up as I go along.
Obi-Wan wanted me to take him to a doctor appointment in the morning. Then later that evening, he realized that the appointment time was earlier than he originally told me.
So he tried to call me. I wasn't home. My answering machine recorded his call which consisted of Obi-Wan mumbling "hello, hello" over and over, then finally giving up with a "guess he don't wanna talk" or something like that.
Not giving up just yet and fearful that we'd arrive late to his appointment the following morning, Obi-Wan grabbed his walker and trucked across the street to my house.
My car was in the driveway. But we still weren't home. We were out on a walk.
But as we came back home from the walk, we were greeted with the shocking sight of Obi-Wan sitting on my front porch steps. Just getting out of his house is a big ordeal, much less walking across the street to my place all by himself. And sitting on our steps...? There's no way in the world he could have got back up by himself. Good thing we found him.
He was fumbling around with some rocks from my flower bed and had arranged them on the steps.
He said, "I was trying to leave you a message. I called but you wouldn't talk to me. Then I learned you weren't home. So I'm writing a message with these rocks"
"What were you trying to write?"
"I was making an arrow that pointed towards my house. I was hoping you'd come over so I could tell you something."
Filled up the Millenium Falcon today, which was dang near $50 with the price of gas and all. She may be a gas guzzler but she still can outrun the empire.
After fillup, we no longer had the money to pay a utility bill sittng on my desk. So at the pump I ask the CEO for money to pay the bill.
30 minutes later I'm home and the mail arrived. A Priority Mail envelope with no return address and a funky PO stamp with no post mark was addressed to me containing a unique amount of cash.
Do we worship Jesus? or do we worship the system (ie: church) in which we worship Jesus?
Feathers always get ruffled after one's religious system is questioned. Like maybe that system is more important than Jesus himself. I don't know. I do know that exposing the ills of one's religious system will make you highly unpopular. Or like Jesus, get you killed.
There's not much else I can say about the system here without pointing towards a respectful and well written report by The Home Depot Guy. Read it if you're interested.
My favorite quote of his: "I am learning however, that the system is merely a cup. The system is not truth. The system is not life. The fiber of the system is not the logos. The system is simply a vessel, and if it leaks, it is then that we all get a good look at the truth as it spills out onto the floor."
As an undercover operative for the CEO of the universe, I am strategically embedded within the poverty culture of Abilene, TX (the fair mother city). This blog contains my reports, discoveries, observations, and confessions. My identity must remain concealed due to passages in The Book under Matt. 6:1-4. The names on this blog have been changed to protect the guilty.
