Life In The Village: The Dance Continues...
Well, Good Friday has come and gone, and here it is Easter Monday. Saturday was a day off, and that is a good thing - at least when it comes to Saint Peter's and their dreadful music department. Good Friday, we were treated to a rendition of "Were You There (when they crucified our Lord)?" which is an old Negro Spiritual, and that's where it should have stayed.
Saint Peter's has a history of absolutely slaughtering this hymn. It's not really our fault, I just don't think Catholics are capable of doing justice to spirituals: I remember one time in the 70's, when Father Klefman - who had what might be charitabley called a "dry sense of humor" - remarked, upon hearing our pathetic collective effort at this song, "I'm sure after hearing that, Our Lord is glad we weren't there" But we never learn.
After that was over, I headed on down to the old Rock Island Railroad Depot, which is now a museum, and known for having the dreariest model train set or something like that. I don't suppose you knew that there were separate waiting rooms for ladies and gentlemen until 1954 at that station. See? Never let it be said you never learn anything on this blog.
The old gal who was the tour guide was nice enough, but gave the the third degree: She liked the churchy part, but I lost major points for going to public school. I took comfort in knowing that my pagan education allowed me to learn how to spell and compose a sentence, however.
Easter Sunday we all got gussied up - even Mother Vel-DuRay - and went to church AGAIN. That was a big deal for her though, as it was her first public appearance since this whole thing began, and she handled herself well, even if her wig kept riding up. After that, we took the proverbial ride in the country, where we saw some hideous McMansions, all perched on the top of the most windswept hill, on tiny lots and no trees. Apparently, that's where all the doctors live. Why, I can't understand: If there's one thing Council Bluffs has, it's no shortage of Victorian mansions and stately homes that can be had for a song - plus, they are near the hospitals. If I had that kind of money, I wouldn't be isolating myself out. Omaha/Council Bluffs is already isolated enough.
Then it was home, and Easter dinner. I made a simple repast: Rack of Lamb, Mashed Potatoes, Peas and Brussels Sprouts. It turned out well if I do say so myself.
So I'm a loose ends today: Have a few projects to work on, but I think I might take the day to play. Any suggestions?
Saint Peter's has a history of absolutely slaughtering this hymn. It's not really our fault, I just don't think Catholics are capable of doing justice to spirituals: I remember one time in the 70's, when Father Klefman - who had what might be charitabley called a "dry sense of humor" - remarked, upon hearing our pathetic collective effort at this song, "I'm sure after hearing that, Our Lord is glad we weren't there" But we never learn.
After that was over, I headed on down to the old Rock Island Railroad Depot, which is now a museum, and known for having the dreariest model train set or something like that. I don't suppose you knew that there were separate waiting rooms for ladies and gentlemen until 1954 at that station. See? Never let it be said you never learn anything on this blog.
The old gal who was the tour guide was nice enough, but gave the the third degree: She liked the churchy part, but I lost major points for going to public school. I took comfort in knowing that my pagan education allowed me to learn how to spell and compose a sentence, however.
Easter Sunday we all got gussied up - even Mother Vel-DuRay - and went to church AGAIN. That was a big deal for her though, as it was her first public appearance since this whole thing began, and she handled herself well, even if her wig kept riding up. After that, we took the proverbial ride in the country, where we saw some hideous McMansions, all perched on the top of the most windswept hill, on tiny lots and no trees. Apparently, that's where all the doctors live. Why, I can't understand: If there's one thing Council Bluffs has, it's no shortage of Victorian mansions and stately homes that can be had for a song - plus, they are near the hospitals. If I had that kind of money, I wouldn't be isolating myself out. Omaha/Council Bluffs is already isolated enough.
Then it was home, and Easter dinner. I made a simple repast: Rack of Lamb, Mashed Potatoes, Peas and Brussels Sprouts. It turned out well if I do say so myself.
So I'm a loose ends today: Have a few projects to work on, but I think I might take the day to play. Any suggestions?
posted by Catalina Vel-DuRay @ Saturday, April 07, 2007
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