Insane Earthlings

I was ten years old and I had captured the silver ball with my left flipper.   I held it firmly as I surveyed the surface of the table below the glass. I checked to see if the “special” light was on. It was. I could let the ball roll to just the right point near the middle of the flipper and then tap the button hard hooking it left and down the drain that crossed the trigger for the “special.” It meant sacrificing my last ball to get a new game and five more balls to play. Suspended, I weighed my options. Free game or keep the ball in play, go for the spinners, rack up some points, and go for a new high score. I was addicted to pinball. I wasn’t a pinball wizard; I was a pinball junkie. The owners of The Game-room were my pushers. I remember the first marked quarters handed out like candy. I felt a rush of adrenaline the first time I drew back the spring-loaded launcher and sent the ball rocketing up ramps, through spinners, and bouncing off light-up bumpers. Ding-ding...

Yesterday I attended the funeral of my father's life-long best friend. His funeral was exactly one year from my own mother's funeral.  This past Monday we had a small family gathering on the one year anniversary of my mother's passing. We met at the columbarium where my mother and my niece are interred and memorialized. I decided to mark the occasion by sharing an experience and a statement about my beliefs concerning the nature of our existence. My thoughts on this subject are always changing and my mind and heart are open to new perspectives and possibilities. I structured my thoughts for this occasion in theological terms. I could have easily substituted secular language and used words like psyche or consciousness instead of soul. The infinite instead of God. But all of the possible uses of language fall short when attempting to describe the reality that remains hidden from us. Our brain is encased in bone. We only have five measly senses to make sense of everyt...

We were in the basement. The T.V. had sent out that alarm that would usually say, “This has been a test, only a test of the Emergency Broadcast System.” But instead, the voice had warned that a tornado had been spotted and had touched down in Southeast part of town.” We looked outside and it was eerily calm and still. And yellowish.   I was only 10 years old, but recognized an ominous scene when I saw one. Then we heard the train whistle noise. We had been warned about that in school.  It meant a tornado was very close by. So, now we were huddled together. My father had grabbed the mattress off of my brother’s bed in the basement. (His hippie dream room, beaded curtains and all) All four children and my Mom and Dad crouched behind the mattress. We could hear the sounds of tree limbs cracking and falling, hard rain, wind, and unpleasant crunching of metal and wood. I was scared. My sister suddenly remembered that our cat, Scooter, was upstairs and vulnerable if the giant...