Carpenter's Gothic (Updated from 2/23/15)

“The property is cursed. Death dwells here. These rivers run with the blood of those who came before you. Life may not trespass, and when it tries, it will surely be snuffed out.”

-- Denise Daisy

Carpenter's Gothic, that's the architectural style of the house in the background of the famous 1930 painting, American Gothic, by Grant Wood.  The painting is shown here with the models, his sister, Nan, and his dentist, Dr. Byron McKeeby.  The only element I see that makes this house "gothic" would be the pointed-arch window.  In all the years I have known the name of this painting, I never knew why the artist named it so.  You learn something every day, and I have been reminded, by this, that things aren't always what they seem.  I went for a walk.

As I walked down FEMA's multimillion-dollar breakwater surrounding the new harbor for the fishing fleet, I glanced at the shoreline and spied the twenty-foot-high stainless steel cross that made it through Hurricane Katrina.  I thought about Jesus on his last day and how he must have also thought that things aren't always as they seem.  Things can be what we expect, yet not be as we expect.  He surely knew the ultimate outcome of the day, but the pain of torture must have come as a shock.  

It was kind of like this new harbor. The city got its hands on Katina federal disaster relief and spent it on a poorly utilized harbor instead of revitalizing the community with quaint shops, and beautiful streets.  Most of the town knew the ultimate outcome of spending federal disaster relief but didn't seem to realize how slow and painful it would be to get there, if ever.  (It finally did, almost 17 years later, when the Gulf Coast got its share of money from the BP oil spill.)

I usually find that taking a walk clears my mind and helps me focus on the post at hand.  Normally, this includes running into situations or people that bear out the message that will be my post.  Today was no different.  I wandered from the harbor to Bacchus On The Beach, the restaurant overlooking the shrimping fleet and the gulf.  I sat outside on the deck, fully intending to have a tall iced tea.  (Bacchus, at the time, had a $2.00 domestic beer and well-drink "happy hour" that started at 2:00 p.m. and lasted for eight hours.)  Needless to say, Bacchus is one of my favorite haunts.

Anyway, I'm tapping my pad with the pen when a couple of geriatric biker babes came outside, from the main restaurant, and asked if I was watching the television over the bar.  I said no, and they disappeared back inside.  Minutes later another biker woman and three elderly men accompanied the first two women back outside to take up seats at my right.  Seeing this motley crew, my first thought was the reality show, Swamp People, except these folks all had skin that looked like it had been nailed to the prow of a ship for 20 years.  

They were all decked out in Harley Davidson tee-shits, riding glasses propped rakishly on their elderly heads over colorful bandanas and caps.  One of the gentlemen asked, again, if they could change the station to NASCAR.  I reiterated that they could be my guest, and he insisted on buying me a beer.  My new friend.  Redneck geriatric southern bikers and NASCAR makes lots of sense.  And, who am I to refuse a free beer?  Against my feeble protestations, they bought me a round for letting them change the channel on a television that wasn't mine and I wasn't even watching.

I've never been able to wrap my feeble mind around soccer or NASCAR; both, for me, are like watching a freshly varnished board drying on the humid Mississippi coast unless you're watching women's soccer.  In soccer you hope, in the course of two excruciating hours, someone will eventually make at least one point before you go comatose.  I find that women do this more than men. Women also know how to "putt" on a golf green, men... not so much. 

NASCAR seems to be what southerners consider a "sport," as the obvious game plan is to make continual left turns, as fast you can, for an hour or more, without crashing, burning to death, or killing anyone else including the scantily clad spectators pounding down dogs and beer.  The drivers do all of this in a hot, humid, vehicle while wearing fire retardant jumpsuits, sucking exhaust, wishing they'd peed before starting, and all the while trying to cross the finish line first.  But then, things aren't always what they seem.  I will have a NASCAR "groupie" clue me in on the finer points, one day... down the road.

These folks, and this whole situation, were another example of what God throws out there for me when I'm looking for inspiration.  They were rife with possible preconceptions other people would make about them, and they turned out to be kind, personable, grandparents seemingly loaded with disposable income.  They were also driving cars and not motorcycles, a fact that really threw me off.  Though, liberally sprinkled with "colorful" language, their conversation traveled from merlot and pinot noir to the tasty Bacchus menu, motorcycles, and NASCAR.  At the end of it all I had to shake my head and thank God for the inspiration, and the reminder - you can't judge a book by its cover.  And, like their conversation that went from merlot to NASCAR, I have managed to trip my way through American Gothic to find myself back at the start.

American Gothic; is it a statement on architecture, the Bible belt, or American culture of the day?  I wonder, maybe art doesn't have to "speak" to us at all.  Maybe it's just a nice painting.  By the same token, maybe what we see of other people doesn't need to speak to us either.  Maybe they're just nice people, and things aren't always what they seem.  For instance, you can just look at Nan and Dr. McKeeby and tell right off that neither of their cars came in first.

I still don't know who won the race.  I'm watching women's soccer.

Editor's Note

(Re: disclaimer cum "get out of jail free" card)

Before you go getting your panties in a bunch, it is essential to understand that this is just an opinion site and, as such, can be subjected to scrutiny by anyone with a differing opinion. It doesn't make either view any more right or wrong than the other. An opinion, presented in this context, is a way of inciting others to think and, hopefully, to form opinions of their own, if they haven't already done so. This is also why, occasionally, I will present an "opinion" just to stir an emotional pot. Where it may sound like I agree with the statements made, I'm more interested in getting others to consider an alternate viewpoint. 

I fervently hope that we keep open and active minds when reading opinions and while engaging in peaceful and constructive discussion, in an arena of mutual respect, concerning those opinions put forth. After over twenty years with military intelligence, I have come to believe engaging each other in this manner and in this arena is the way we will learn tolerance and respect for differing beliefs, cultures, and viewpoints.

We all fall from grace, some more often than others; it is part of being human. God's test for us is what we learn from the experience, and what we do afterward.

Pastor Tony spent 22 years with the United States Air Force Intelligence as a planner, analyst, briefer, instructor, and, finally, a senior manager. He spent 17 years, following his service career, working with the premier, world-renowned, Western Institutional Review Board helping to protect the rights of human subjects involved in pharmaceutical research.

Ordained 1n 2013 as an "interfaith" minister, he founded the Congregation for Religious Tolerance in response to intolerance shown by Christians toward peaceful Islam. As the weapon for his war on intolerance he chose the pen, and wages his "battle" in the guise of the Congregation's official online blog, The Path, of which he is both author and editor. "The Path" offers a vehicle for commentary and guidance concerning one's own personal, spiritual, path toward peace and the final destination for us all. He currently resides in Pass Christian, Mississippi, where he volunteered as the lead chaplain at a regional medical center.

Feel free to contact Pastor Tony: tolerantpastor@gmail.com