At Home He's a Tourist

He fills his head with culture/ He gives himself an ulcer.

Sunday, May 25, 2003

I got back from Austin on Thursday night. I wish I could say that I had a great time in the cultural and political capital of Texas, but the itinerary was too brief and busy for me to do the sort of things I would have liked to. If I were smarter I would have taken a day of vacation time for my own amusement--lesson learned for my next conference, whenever and wherever that may be. A behind-the-scenes tour of the LBJ presidential library was mildly interesting, and some of the other librarians were worth talking to, especially one guy from a seminary in Charlotte who impressed me (although I'm no judge) as quite the expert on Baptist history. Oh, and I won a Baylor coffee mug, which is more exciting than it sounds because I've been collecting mugs from every university I've been affiliated with (seven schools so far).

Now I'm struggling to get through a three-day weekend. Yesterday I moped around Plainview, reading a bit from Otto's The Idea of the Holy, eating at our local pseudo-Chinese buffet, getting tendonitis from the PS2, and sipping Calvados while watching a thunderstorm blow through town, bringing some much-needed rain mixed with harmless hail pellets. I also saw The Devil's Playground, a documentary focusing on a handful of Amish teenagers in northern Indiana going through rumspringa, a period when they are allowed to taste the world's pleasures in order that their choice to join the church be more informed and settled. For me it was nostalgic--not that I was raised Amish, of course, but while in South Bend I occasionally visited Goshen and Shipshewana, where most of the documentary was filmed. One of the kids worked at the Blue Gate Restaurant, which I have seen many times. (I can't remember but it might be the restaurant Felix, Pablo and I ate at on our way to the U.P.) Another worked at a mobile home factory which I have also been in. While visiting a friend of a friend in "Shipshie" I woke up at dawn to the clapping of hooves on ashphalt, ate "fried mush" for breakfast, and went to a livestock auction where the rows of bearded, stoic men placed their bids with almost imperceptible gestures. Facets of Amish culture appeal to me--the devotion to family life, the nearness to nature, the chicks in long skirts and bonnets--but I wouldn't be able to abide their denigration of higher education.

Today I visited the Greek Orthodox Church in Lubbock. I enjoyed it more than I expected to. My experience with GO churches in northern Indiana was disappointing because the liturgies were in Greek, congregational participation was lackluster, and I was never welcomed into their ethnic enclave. Here the service was in English, everyone joined in the chanting, and after the service I was greeted enthusiastically. One thing I've chronicled in this blog is the number of free meals I've gotten by visiting various churches, and today I was lucky to hit St. Andrew's on a potluck Sunday. Aside from the olives, the food could have been served at any Anglo church. In fact, only a handful of people in the congregation looked obviously Mediterranean. There was a surprising number of attractive (but married) young women present. I'm sure I'll go back, at least when I feel the need for a liturgical fix.

Later in the afternoon I did some shopping, worked on an LJ review, and tried menudo (disgusting) at Tacqueria Jalisco. Now I need to think of a way to get through Memorial Day. Playing Medal of Honor: Frontline seems like the patriotic thing to do.

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