... is not always a blessing. I have an abundance of thoughts to share and not enough time to share them.
Since my last post I have been to see friends in NYC and substitute preach for a friend there. The church sits on Central Park West, very near to the Natural History Museum. You may have glimpsed it in opening scenes of the original "Miracle on 34th Street," when Santa is on his parade float sleigh, as it is on the route of the Macy's T'giving Day parade.
My trip allowed me to visit to the new High Line botanical walk created from an old elevated freight rail line abandoned to nature a generation ago. Very cool. See below.
But I also lost a dear member of my church to death and six days later a dear personal friend of twenty years died. Both of whose services I must and will gladly take part in, but not without considerable intellectual and emotional effort.
My church annual meeting is next week, and the holidays are breathing down our necks. Christmas carols played at the book store on Saturday. My skin crawled reflexively.
I began reading Tolstoy's War and Peace while staying with friends in Tribeca. What a great book, and what a great big book. Meanwhile I resumed the second of three volumes on the history of liberal theology in America by Dorrien, finished a cute little book about the Auden and Britten and McCullers and Bowles and others called February House.
And there is more to say about my journey to Istanbul last month, so much more. But what really caught my eye today was an article by the movie critic A. O. Scott in the NYTimes, reflecting on the movie "Where The Wild Things Are," which I saw last week. He/she (I have not idea which gender Scott claims) really nails some cultural nuggets and I recommend it to you all. Here's the link
Sorry about the layout. Creating blank lines and also inserting photos takes more wits than I have.
More later, I hope.