Stuff this White Person Likes

I think the blog “Stuff White People Like” is hysterical. I laugh for two reasons. First, it holds a mirror up to me and makes me laugh at myself. Blog entries such as “Coffee”, “Farmer’s Markets”, “Micorbrews”, “Wine”, “Apple Products”, “Vintage”, and “Moleskin Notebooks” truly make me blush with embarrassment because they nail me! I also like it because it skewers white, hipster pretentiousness. It is worth getting the RSS feed to it.

I was nailed, yet again, in the blog “Vespa Scooters”. Yes, I would love a Vespa! I love Italy and would love to live as an Italian. There a few things more Italian than a Vespa. Plus, they are very economical means of transportation. I’m getting away from the point ….

Here’s the killer line from the blog:

“Within white culture, your choice of transportation method says a lot about you.  For example a Prius says you care about the Earth, a bicycle shows you REALLY care about the earth, and a bus shows that you are probably not white.”

Now to the main point this blog: one of the main themes of Catholic Social teaching is solidarity.

Of the seven theme of Catholic social teaching, solidarity is the one most resonates. This solidarity is a true identification with the poor. It is to feel what they feel in order for us to work at their side for justice and right. One aspect of choosing to live a simple life is to identify with those who have no choice but to live a simple life.

I don’t mind getting on the #62 bus at NW Murray Blvd, transferring onto the Max Red line at the Sunset Transit Center, riding to the NE 60th Street stop, and walking 4 blocks to the mothership that is Oregon Catholic Press. In fact I enjoy it. But I rarely do it. It nearly doubles my commute. That’s why I only do it when I have to: when gas prices are too high or when someone needs my car.

Again, some have to choice. Solidarity requires that I feel this dilemma. For much of the working poor, they are completely reliant on public transportation. Understanding this, no…really feeling this, might make me vote for something I don’t need, like a bond issue to push light into poor areas of the city.

Taking public transportation also can open up the opportunity to be a public witness. Praying the Liturgy of the Hours on the bus; reading the Bible on the train, or smiling and offering a prayer for people I pass as I walk: these are acts that serve as a godly leaven in the world.

I think the SWPL bloggers are right, my choice of transportation does a lot about me. I need to take public transport more often.

Resolution ’10

I was tempted, and so I went.

Into the impeccable model home for the new Catalina subdivision about 5 minutes from my house.

It was stunning. 3500 square feet smacking of perfection. No dirty dishes. No underwear lying on the floor. No handprints on the walls, rusty hinges, leaky faucets. The angels must have decorated this…sparkly, shiny, new. Space to breathe. Clean, breathtaking, home perfection. My mind is racing.

HOW CAN I GET THIS? WHAT MUST I DO TO ACHIEVE THIS? WHY IS THE GRASS SO MUCH GREENER – LITERALLY – OVER HERE?

Whoa, girl. Back up…try again.

WHY DO I WANT THIS? WHAT MUST I DO NOT TO WANT THIS? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE GRASS BENEATH MY FEET?

A dear friend wrote this on a piece of paper for me, and it is taped (imperfectly) to my computer:

“All that I have and all that I am is good enough”.

An ugly temptation in my suburban, polished, keep-up-with-the-Jones’ world is a glittering McMansion in a carved corner of former farmland. My brain says “ooooooh”. My heart says “it’s a lie”.

Lord, thank you for what I have; this simple, messy life, these imperfect walls, these piles of laundry, this little house that has seen better days, but was never so full of love and laughter. There is nothing I shall want.

- Sarah

Quiet Mornings

I just read a article online that named 10 things NOT to buy this year. It said things like land-based phone lines, appliances that are not Energy Star rated, and DVDs. It also listed newspaper subscriptions.

I get my local paper, “The Oregonian”, delivered to my house. “Delivered” sounds too pedestrian of a word to describe how I receive my paper. I am on a guy named Ty’s route and Ty is a delivery stud! He doesn’t just slow down and heave a wad of newsprint toward the general direction of my house like a barely post-pubescent soldier hurling a grenade. Instead, Ty pulls up as far as he can into my drive way at about 4am and graciously lays the precious contents half on the threshold, half on the front door. When I open my front door on Northwestern rain-soaked mornings, the pulitzer prize winning Oregonian falls inside like the best-man the night before the wedding.

Fresh brewed Stumptown Coffee. “Uncle Sam” cereal. A leisurely read through the paper. The contents of a great morning. That sounds simple enough. It’s quiet. It’s leisurely. I’m getting informed. It seems godly enough. But can I do without it? Is the article right? Is this an unwise purchase?

My dear friend and boss, Tom Tomaszek, gave “A Year with Thomas Merton” to me as a Christmas present. I wouldn’t call it a New Year’s resolution or anything goofy like that, but I have snubbed Ty’s noble efforts in this new decade. I have not read the paper at all since 12/31/09. Instead, I am reading the Merton entry for the day, …all three paragraphs ….at most, three paragraphs.

I have been struck by these journal entries. He loved solitude. I guess as a good trappist monk should. There was no noise for him except the sounds of trees falling in the forest when there is indeed someone there to hear it. I did think about entering the monastery when I was young and zealous. A simple cell. Snow outside. A gentle fire. Plenty of time for contemplation and intimacy with the Lord all hold a great romanticism for me. Yes, the monastic life very romantic. As I read Merton’s journal entries, there is a stirring in my heart for that kind of life, a life in the shadow of the Wells Fargo building and within ear shot of the #62 bus line.

The journal entries from the good Fr. Louis Merton, as he was known to his brother monks, takes only a minute or two. But properly chewing a bowl full of toasted wheat and flax seed takes a lot longer than a minute or two. Instead of reading about issues with TriMet, the legislature, trends on house values, or the Trail Blazers, my thoughts go to the ones I love and care about: my wife, my children, my brother, the Spirit & Song artists. I pray for them. If I do have a New Year’s resolution, it is to do more intercessory prayer. It is part of living a life that is poured out for others, as the life of Our Lord’s was. I don’t necessarily intend to, but I find myself in intercessory prayer in the absence of the paper. In the solitude that’s found 7 miles from downtown Portland, I find that the newspaper is noise that I can do without. In fact, I probably should do without. It is allowing me to develop an urban monasticism of sorts.

I was talking to a friend about this yesterday. I very often have the feeling, “If I don’t, then who will?” I really feel the responsibility of the newspaper’s survival. It’s a great paper! I feel the need to support it. But it is not my responsibility …praying for those I love is. Eliminating morning noise is drawing me to prayer and the romantic solitude that helps me love better.

Robert