Matching Tracksuits

I’m sitting here watching — guess — Star Wars, typing a letter to you, with Lilly sitting at my side trying to get me to pet her. I’ve already packed once (I’ll be unpacking and repacking again today — I don’t like how things turned out), I’ve eaten, I’ve taken a shower, and I’m feeling all pleased with myself.

So yesterday’s conversation. The more I think about it, the less there is to write about it. Basically, I guess my mom had no idea that I wasn’t a Christian, that I don’t accept the fact that Jesus was the son of God and all that. I’m not sure what she thought my position was on the whole issue, but I guess she just thought that I sort of accepted the idea of a Christ but rejected organized religion. Anyway, we talked about it for a while, and it seemed to me that dad was sort of talking in circles. And it definitely seemed that mom has a much more “traditional” belief set than dad. She’s much more exclusivist (i.e., Christianity is the one true religion and should be shared with the world) while dad seems to be, in theory, a little more open (i.e., “I don’t know whether or not others’ experience in other religions is an experience of God or not — no one can say for sure”). Still, I couldn’t get him to come around to admit that such an admission indicts his own belief system (i.e., there’s no way to know whether what he’s experiencing and attributing to God is of God or something else). The really weird part came in talking about the inerrancy of the Bible. Dad seemed to admit it and deny it at the same time. He admitted that there were indeed contradictions in the Bible, but somehow seemed to argue that that fact didn’t make the Bible imperfect. I really have no idea how he tried to maintain that. It was weird — I honestly didn’t understand a single thing he was saying sometimes. It was like he was talking and then take two cups of flour and add it to the bowl of good tobacco causes lung cancer is a good match for Virgos. Vague connections, but not quite sure how things are intended to look in the bigger picture. It was very disconcerting.

The trip in general was uneventful. We got lost going into New York, though. It was an enlightening experience. We’re going along, looking for exit 6a, counting down. We make it by nine, by eight. I see a sign for 7a in a mile, indicating it’s the left two lanes (we’re tooling along in the left lane). I say, “We’re in an exit lane.” Dad, acting as navigator, says, “Yeah,” sort of absentmindedly as he looks at the map. Another sign: exit 7a, left two lanes, half a mile. Once again, I say something, “We need to be in the other lane.” Nothing is said. And we end up taking exit 7a. As we approach, Mom actually said, “Which way do I go?” In a split second, Dad says, “To the left” (it was more a fork in the road than an exit) and I say, “No, no!!!” A moment later, Dad says, “We’re looking for 6a.” I point out that we just took exit 7a. And thus begins an forty minute adventure in which we finally make it back out to where we needed to be and made it to the consulate. I was shocked, though. Three signs (counting the final one that was over the exit as we turned onto it); two warnings — they still took that exit. I was more amused than I was annoyed. But I quickly got annoyed — mom constantly asking, “Which way do I go?” and dad giving directions. We finally get on 34th avenue and we’re looking for Madison. Dad says, “It’s between fourth and fifth” or something like that. Every intersection, mom asks, “What is this?” Dad answers. “And what are we looking for?” Agghh — I thought I would go crazy.

I still haven’t talked to Marlon. I called him, but he didn’t pick up the phone. Perhaps you could give him my number here and get him to call me? I’d really like to talk to him about all this nonsense.

I still don’t have any firm plans for my time here. Saturday I’m meeting Dave, as I told you; Sunday I’m hoping to visit Michelle; Monday morning I have a dentist appointment. Otherwise, nothing. I’m going to try to call Tonia tonight and see if I can stay with her Saturday night, and maybe try to see Mike Braswell Saturday afternoon or Sunday. We’ll see.

Too much to do.