Oh blessed perseverance of the donkey that turns the water-wheel! Always the same pace. Always the same circles. One day after another: everyday the same. Without that, there would be no ripeness in the fruit, nor blossom in the orchard, nor scent of flowers in the garden. Carry this thought to your interior life.–The Way, 998
The Gospel reading of the Mass today Concerned the seed of faith that tosses trees Uprooted into waters far away. This is just one of the hyperboles Used by Our Lord to make us understand Detachment and belief go hand in hand.
To my surprise, the porch was wet when I Awoke. I’d stumbled over to the dogs to let Them out. And when I did, I noticed how, Beneath the Chinese Elm, there was a dry Patch on the patio. The rest was wet. I thought perhaps someone had used a pow- er washer while we slept–an absurd thought. A gentle rain is welcome; heat is not.
Dear Sir, it seems you’ve taken what is mine And done exactly what I’d hope to do: You’ve trimmed the fat, added a stiffer spine, And made of him a better person who, Despite his countless shortcomings, reflects His Master’s good intentions and who can Both be and act himself. I pay respects To you who took a boy and made a man.
Annual Hayshers' Reunion Breakfast, 12-23-20For Kim (But not for Brian, who stood us up. Again.)
Old friends and eggs (and lox) --
Meaningful, meandering talks --
A year in the making,
is ever a pleasure for me.
Twenty-sevenish years ago, my friend Kim (a dude) watched idly from the sidelines as I debated a bevy of my mamby-pamby co-religionists in a heated debate that took place in the lobby of the Newman Center at the University of Arizona. Beleaguered by fools and appeasers who maintained that morality could not be legislated, I — like noble Aragorn fending off the Nazgûl on Weathertop– valiantly took on all comers. “Of course you can legislate morality! That’s what laws do! Or do you think murder is only illegal because it’s messy?” (For the record, I don’t think goodness can be legislated, but laws are always a reflection of a society’s morals.)
At the time, the Newman Center was located across the street from the Tri-Delta sorority house where Kim worked as a “hasher” (i.e. dishwasher / slop slinger). Kim was — and still is — a devout Evangelical, but he would frequently pop into the Newman Center to pray. (He’s cool like that.) Anyway, after I vanquished all those ninnies, he — like the mysterious Ranger Strider at the Prancing Pony in Bree — approached.
“I’m on your side,” he said.
“You have a funny way of showing it,” I didn’t.
“My name is Kim Brown. I’m impossibly cool. Wanna be friends? And, yeah, you heard right: I’m a dude named Kim.”
“Absolutely,” I said.
And that, more or less, is how Kim and I became friends. Eventually, he recruited me to work with him at the sorority and that’s where the picture above was taken. Most of the guys who signed up to work as hashers were undependable creeps / frat boys who just wanted to hit on the girls. They would inevitably bail, and when they did, Kim would propose one of his Christian friends as a replacement. The house mother always agreed to bring Kim’s friends on because we always (eventually) got our work done and never hit on the ladies. I forget where she was from, but she always called us “hayshers” instead of “hashers” and that’s what we’ve called ourselves ever since.
I don’t remember when we started meeting up for breakfast, but it’s been an annual tradition for a while now and it’s always a great time. Our hilarious friend and fellow haysher Brian joins us when he can, but he’s very responsible now that he’s no longer in a rock band with Kim. The cat’s in the cradle, Brian.