I’m starting to put a plan together to bike the Mickelson Trail this Fall. Robin and I did it fourteen years ago, on standard bicycles, but this year if we do it we’d go electric, just for fun.
It’s a wonderful journey of 108 miles in the Black Hills of South Dakota, on what used to be a railroad line running from Deadwood to Edgemont. A vigorous 20 year-old with an iron crotch can do it in a day, but we prefer the stop-and-smell-the-roses sort of trip, so we spend three days on the path.
Here’a video of that trip that I put together back in 2009, . One day we were sweating in shirtsleeves, next day we were pedaling in a snowstorm and dealing with hypothermia. Classic Type II fun.
At our time of life, there are many ways this plan could go south, but if fortune smiles …
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For any of you who are unaware of how to classify your activities, here’s the one I use. I forget where I first came across it, but it’s called the Fun Scale. You can google it.
- Type I: enjoyable while you are doing it, and fun to talk about later
- Type II: stressful when being done, but great fun to tell the stories later on
- Type III: no fun while you’re doing it, and you’d just as soon not discuss it again … ever
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When I was in second grade, we exchanged Valentines in Miss Lawrence’s class. There were 24 kids in the class, so everybody received 23 of them, unless you sent yourself one and therefore got 24.
They were not elaborate, but simple punched-out things that weren’t even in envelopes.
Looking back that was my introduction to the rituals of Valentine’s Day. I can’t recall the finer details, but I know I didn’t like everybody in second grade, and we were years away from the “Billy likes Susie” stage. So exactly what we were doing in Miss Lawrence’s class I really don’t know.
A few years down the road was where the Day really kicked in, when as a young man I was expected to buy flowers and/or candy and give them to the females in my vicinity.
The story gets more bizarre when we learn that St. Valentine had nothing to do with growing flowers, making candy, or encouraging lovers. He was a priest who managed to annoy the Roman officials to the point that they rubbed him out in a pretty violent manner.
Valentine was arrested and dragged before the Prefect of Rome, who condemned him to be beaten to death with clubs and to have his head cut off. The sentence was carried out on February 14, on or about the year 270
History. com
So the connection between a headless cleric and a box of bonbons is not immediately apparent, at least to me. I have read some explanations but they have seemed made-up sorts of things.
It’s easier to go along with the Valentine’s Day observances than resist them. And I admit that I do enjoy helping to finish off those boxes of candy, so there is always that.
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Speaking of headless clerics, the wild world of Christian Nationalism is receiving quite a bit of media attention these days. I mentioned a few posts back that I’d read the book “Jesus and John Wayne,” which deals with the subject, and there are many, many others out there. Rob Reiner has produced a documentary on the topic entitled God and Country, which will be released on mid-February.
Before I go further let me assure you that I’m not pointing fingers at the mainstream Christian churches. The people I am discussing here have nothing to do with Christianity. Using the name Christian is a sleight-of-hand trick employed by a variety of right-wing nationalist groups to cover up some very un-Christian ideas and behavior.
Christian nationalists want to define America as a Christian nation and they want the government to promote a specific cultural template as the official culture of the country. Some have advocated for an amendment to the Constitution to recognize America’s Christian heritage, others to reinstitute prayer in public schools. Some work to enshrine a Christian nationalist interpretation of American history in school curricula, including that America has a special relationship with God or has been “chosen” by him to carry out a special mission on earth. Others advocate for immigration restrictions specifically to prevent a change to American religious and ethnic demographics or a change to American culture. Some want to empower the government to take stronger action to circumscribe immoral behavior.
Christianity Today
Hitler did it, Mussolini did it, Oral Roberts did it, Franklin Graham does it, the Ku Klux Klan does it, many modern-day televangelists are doing it.
This is a political movement, not a religious one, and we can be grateful that it is being brought into the light where it can be seen for what it is.
Want to read more? Here are a couple of links to get you started:
What is Christian Nationalism/Christianity Today
How Christian is Christian Nationalism/The New Yorker
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Just yesterday I found out that there is another name for earworms, one which I actually much prefer. It is SSS or stuck sound syndrome.
Psychologically, earworms are a ‘cognitive itch’: the brain automatically itches back, resulting in a vicious loop. The more one tries to suppress the songs, the more their impetus increases, a mental process known as ironic process theory. Those most at risk for SSS are: females, youth, and patients with OCD.
British Journal of General Practice
Even though I do not have the first two risk factors, being neither female nor young, I definitely have had this malady on scads of occasions. Perhaps there may be just a bit of OCD wafting about between those neurons of mine.
I do have one question about this condition. In my own case, the song involved is rarely one that I enjoy hearing repeatedly. Usually it is quite the opposite. A small thing, but the sort of discomfort that could, if prolonged, lead to the wearing of straitjackets and the like.
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Lastly, the crew in the Murray’s cheese shop in City Market put up this sign on the case.
Took a second before I realized what was going on. Very clever, thought I . A play on the words to Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This, by the Eurhythmics.
I asked if customers were getting the reference, and he said that they were … even kids whose parents weren’t born when the song came out, in 1983.
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Little Home In The Valley 