Dear Neighbors, Happy Halloween, Don't let me in your house

Last night, Sam the Cat whined so long outside a neighbors' house that they let him in. Sam had to write a letter to the neighborhood explaining why it's really best not to do this.

Sam the Cat
XXX St

Dear Neighbors,
Happy Halloween.

Thank goodness for this holiday, I can communicate briefly in human talk. My people rescued me from a New Jersey Turnpike truck stop a long time ago, and as a result of breathing all those fumes, I have severe learning disabilities.

My people take really good care of me. They take me to the Dr. and feed me and pet me. I’m a great mouser, rabbiter, and birder so you should probably hide your children (not really, but hide your hamster). I free feed all the cat crunchies I want, and never get fleas. Somehow, I make friends with the skunks.

I like your porch. Well, really, I like every porch in the world. They were invented just for me, ya know. Porches are perches for me to look for critters to catch when I’m not sleeping. I love being outdoors, and stay out as much as I can. When I’m not on someone’s porch, or in my house, I’m sleeping in the nice warm dry nest I have under the back porch of my house. In the cold winter, there’s a heating pad in a back porch nest for me to sleep in if I don’t come when I’m called at night.

Years ago my people kept me inside because it didn’t seem safe for me to go out, with my not being smart and all. But I wasn’t happy. I was depressed and I’d sit at the window for hours on end with my nose against it – actually against it until there was catnose schmutz and drool all over it. So now they let me out. Even though my life is likely to be shorter, it’ll be better. It’s what they would want for themselves.

See, here’s the most challenging thing for me, and for those around me-- I’m a cat of very little brain. The most confusing thing for me is doors. I don’t understand doors. In 8 years, I haven’t learned that what’s on the other side of any door last time, is there this time too. I cry to go in and out. My parents have tried many times to teach me that in and out don’t change a whole lot, but I just don’t get it. I go out through a door, turn around, and Hey! There’s a door there! I wonder what’s on the Other Side of it? Are my people still there? Are my food and water bowls still there? Is the cat box still in that room with the nice water bowl? I just have to find out. Once I went in and out 21 times in an hour. (My people were bored, so they experimented.)

I cry a terrible meow, you’ve probably heard it. You’d think I was dying. I only have that one meow, whether I am happily chasing a frog, or trying to get someone to wake up and let me in at midnight. But I’m not dying, and I’ll stop if no one answers me, but if you weaken and let me in your house you’ll be done for. Because then I’ll find out that that differently colored spot on your house really is a door, and I’ll always be asking to be let in.

I promise, I’m ok. If I cry so much outside your small child’s room that he or she is going to cry too, please feel free to call my moms at xxxxxxx (7 am – 10 pm) and ask them to come and get me. Throwing a ball at me will make me go home, but I hope I never bother you that much.


Playfully,
Sam, with the assistance of Cindy and Rebecca

Don't want to learn about EX-gays by paying to go to their conference?

Go to this event instead. I admit that it is an odd, perhaps even a sick hobby for me to study the Christian/Theocratic Right and as such anti-gay/ex-gay events are fun and exciting for me. (see crankycindy.blogspot.com) Because I was raised a Christian Fundamentalist and graduated from a Baptist College, my experience brings a particular perspective to the scholarship. But mine was a relatively progressive Baptist college, whereas Marc Adams attended Liberty University, Jerry Falwell's own bastion of intellectual curiosity.

There is an event I want to recommend to all in Eastern/Central Massachusetts, So. VT/NH, and CT UUs. Marc has been a UU for the past 6 years, and he writes, speaks, and works reaching out to kids at religious colleges. I could have used him 20-25 years ago.

Educational Event Preacher's Son

Sponsored by RCFM and Greater Boston P-FLAG

Marc Adams, author of The Preacher's Son, will share his experiences as a student at Jerry Falwell's Liberty University, his attempts to become "ex-gay" and finally coming to terms with being gay and coming out to his fundamentalist Christian family. This is an opportunity to learn more about the ex-gay movement.

Marc Adams’ autobiography, The Preacher’s Son, was awarded the Silver Pen Award and was a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Marc is also the founder of HeartStrong, http://www.heartstrong.org/ a non-profit educational organization for GBLT students of religious schools, colleges and universities.

Wednesday, October 26, 7:00 PM

Grace Episcopal Church

76 Eldridge Street, Newton Corner, MA 02458.

(Directions: www.gracenewton.org)

Free Admission

Open seating

This makes me feel bedder about my spelin'

My mom sent me this, it's been floating around the internet.

Can you read this? Srmat poelpe can.

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg.
The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.

Amzanig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!

I feele so mush bedder now.

Paper vs. Electronic Newsletters --A Really Big Opinion

Let me be clear. There's lots to commend going electronic, but I think that it's technologist and classist for our congregations to go to all electronic communications.
Sure, it saves trees, time, and postage.

It also assumes that everyone has a computer and can get online regularly, leaving out the anti-technology folks, many of our the elderly and less - abled, the working poor, and, dare I say it, the parents who can hardly get their kids off the computer. A friend of mine said just Friday that she never gets a turn on the computer between her kids and her partner.

Also, it assumes that everyone actually reads their email. A teacher in RE told me last week that she only checks her email every week or so, so I'd better not communicate with her that way.

Also, it assumes that it's the adults who read the newsletter and not the kids, who rarely have access to mom or dad's email accounts.

and finally, except for people like my friend Michelle who have a laptop and wifi, you can't read an email or web site posted newsletter in the bathroom.

My new Scanner

You computer geek people probably think I mean one of those machines that takes a picture of a document and puts it in your computer. Nope. I'm an A/V geek. I mean one of those radios that allows you to listen to the fire department and DPW and see if they talk about why your basement is flooding.

My honey came home today with a brand new hand held scanner with so many features it took me 45 minutes just to figure out how to put in the basic frequencies. She called it my birthday christmas pumping the basement all day present. She handed it to me with headphones. It must be true love.

I come from a long line of scanner people. My mom and dad are, and one set of grandparents were scanner people. I could tell you about my brother's Ham radio set up and how you can use the computer now to transmit, but it's all very complicated and over my head, so I actually can't explain it. Plus, probably not so interesting for you.

I like being able to hear the fire station blow, turn on my scanner, and know what happened. It's the busybody in me. I don't actually tell anyone what I hear, that'd require more conversation than I have in any given day, and conversation makes me tired.

Last night several basements in Easthampton were pumped out by the fire department. See, probably not so interesting for you.