RUDIMENTS, pt. 469
(doing good time)
So, as it went, believe
me, I never wished to
hurt or offend anyone,
but damn if people
didn't bug and annoy
me sometimes to no
end. It's a difficult pass,
crossing the divide of
how to deal with all of
that. Mostly it's one-trick
pony stuff, the same
game gone over and
over. Your average,
pesky psychotic wants
to hold all the cards and
control the board, at the
same time demanding
(and proclaiming) fairness
and equanimity. Yet, in
any way you respond,
you're already sunk.
It still goes on, and it
only makes me feel
really bad, because I
do feel that I should
help my fellows and
brethren whenever
I can... and I do,
and I have
-
Even today, I face
problems over things.
It's slowly turning cold
out again, and I still have
someone coming to my
door to be asked in
because they're cold,
or have nothing to
eat. In the Summer
days, this is OK, and
has gone on for two
years already. I grow
tired, I grow weary, yet
it - the same stupid
small talk, local issues
of no interest to me,
unending catalogues
of information about
other people, rents,
foods, habits - occurs.
I am not here as part of
the local nag-library.
I have no interest. Yet,
upon turning this person
away, I am pained. But
no, with the weather and
turn of season bringing a
chill, it has to come indoors
or not at all. I voted for the
latter, and said so.
-
What is all this useless
crap? Where did it come
from? Is there no over-mind
to this crummy town that
could take this matter over:
Jesus, lady, find a hobby,
go read a book, find house
place to live at. I'm not
your keeper.
-
The conflict is that we're
brought up to somehow
learn that self-interest
is a bad thing, a tawdry
act. It's a actually all
the opposite. And I don't
care the repercussions. It
was when I lived in northern
Pennsylvania that I saw
this firsthand. The Minister
out in those parts was this
small, Bible-toting guy,
happy, twinkly, Irish I guess,
whatever, named Wallace
McKnight. The church itself
was one of those country,
white, clapboard Baptist
places, with a spire and a
gravel lot for maybe 10
cars. He ran it like the
occasional local civic
center, with God attached,
and when it wasn't underway
like that, it was simply
closed up and shuttered.
Two or three hours on a
Sunday was often about
it for the place. Most of his
commitment time was
to the local ladies, and kids.
There was no difference,
as he treated all 'religion'
with the deference you give
to kids' interests, with tales
and rabbit stories of morals
and fables. I always felt that
when religion itself gets
watered down to that extent,
as he most certainly had done,
it becomes next to useless,
devoid of any psychological
content, and bereft of logic
and learning. Why bother,
and what's the use? Wallace
McKnight would occasionally
have one or two 'African'
missionaries in, for talk and
lectures teas, pies and cakes,
and socials. 'They' weren't
African, no; they were
simple white missionaries
who ended up treating
their 'African' and jungle
ministrations in (I felt) a
very racist way, as monkey
inferiors who frantically
needed Salvation - which
meant white values, mores,
and beliefs. It all stank of
a bad-old Hollywood film.
The entire, good-old puppy
dog Jesus routine, loving
others, doing good, and
showing a complete
compassion for those
ungodly natives and
their ritual campfires
and shamans. It made
no sense, and these
import-Christians really
angered me. Like the
traipsing neighborhood
Jehovahs, in their cheap
flash suits, preening to
look like businessmen
to preach the Word. I
wonder what's up with
any of that too.
-
I never had any dealings
with this Wallace guy,
never went to his church
stuff either, but he'd come
around, as part of his
Ministry, to sprinkle his
wit and bother each farmer
while working, each
country household, and
each far-flung trailer in
the woods. Most all of
the farmers just laughed
him off as something of a
simpleton, though he
usually managed a lunch
and some time with the
ladies. His preaching of
good works and kindness,
yes, I try and remember
that now, thinking of only
the positive things, of value
and worth. But, it never
works, and I come away
bereft. It all make a person
hate his own skin for being
skin, like a shadow that bugs
you by following you around.
No one ever wanted to hurt
this guy's feelings, so it
all just went on and on.
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