Yes, I think.
I already wrote a bit of this post, which is a bummer because I was on a roll. Then, through the magic of technology, it disappeared. Such is life.
These last couple of weeks have been hectic. My wife (who more and more I fall in love with...in June we will have been married two wonderful years) and I just bought a house here in Beaver Falls. We won the award of "Family that Lives Closest to the Church" since, literally, it is right across the street from our congregation. Unfortunately, there goes my excuse for being late...although we lived only a block away before... It is a bit of a fixer, so I've been working pretty late into the night. But it makes me happy if nothing else. Property has an amazing effect on a person's psyche: it makes you want to take care of it, make it look beautiful, to have the yard, the roof, the drywall all scream out "Glory to God the Highest!" It's nice to think that my handiwork might facilitate that process...although lots of screaming by said drywall will tend to keep me awake at night.
Other than that, my weekends have been taken up with weddings galore. I realized at the last wedding I attended that most people follow a formula with their reactions. You have the people who ask if you (the bride or groom) are nervous, those who ask if you are excited, those who make the obligatory "marriage is slavery" joke without believing it, and various others that tag along. As a former groom, all the nervous talk made me think that I was supposed to be nervous, although I had nothing to be afraid of. I tried to break out of the formula a little this weekend by countering some of the "marriage is slavery" jokes. I proposed the subversive twist of "marriage is freedom" sayings. I love marriage.
One thing that I have been thinking about today is music. Driving home from Syracuse last night (a stupefying long drive, especially once 1 in the morning hits and you still are on I-79), I heard some songs over and over again. At one point I found myself on the Disney radio station listening, I think, to "Mambo Number Five"--which struck me as odd considering the subject matter. Once parents made up songs or lullabys to entertain, calm, and distract (in a good sense) their children. Now we just subject them to formulaic music with no local connection. Our whole American culture is 'national' instead of regional or local or communal. Even our counter-culture tends to "sell out" and sign the big record deal. Maybe I'm just jonesing for troubadours or more Homers to be out there...or more Jesuses to tell local stories that make us think and inspire our faith in God.