Home again

Doing a fast exit from Waverly, Tennessee, I am home without and temporarily out of an assignment for which grateful.

This gives me a little time to catch up on a few things, so with the help from Gary, my brother-in-law, we put the boat port/garage in good order, hung a couple of shelves and sorted things out so we could at least walk through it without stumbling over a box or crate of motorcycle parts left over from the move back in August.

The best part was installing a pair of external oil coolers on Boudreaux.  Hopefully, this will keep it from completely melting down in the event of a really warm ride this summer.

Those things accomplished, I had a little time to do some much needed chrome polishing. 

It probably won't be long before I'll be exchanging the Harley for a Boeing so I'll probably be on it as much as possible for the next few days.

Easter

As I came out of the large auditorium with several hundred people, I found myself directly behind two young women dressed in mid thigh skirts and spiked heels. The shoes made clicking sounds on the concrete floor and the thin material swayed sensuously as they made their way through the crowd toward the outer doors. At the doors the outside light made their clothing almost translucent revealing their shape and form. That was Easter morning at a very large and popular church in Baton Rouge.

Not that I'm being judgmental on the attire or being speculative of the lives of the ladies but it did give me pause and reflect how things have changed over the past 60 years.  They were by no means the only ones caught up this display of  corporeal beguilement.
I remember as a young boy, Sunday services were held in a little one room church house with eight windows without screens, two back doors and a front door without the benefit of electricity or running water.  While it wasn't exactly written in stone, women and children generally sat on the left side and men on the right on home crafted wooden pews.  I don't think you could ever describe anything as "sensual" in anyone's appearance and the "Sunday" clothes were reserved for weddings, funerals and church. Music, depending on the congregation, could have been supplied by an out of tune piano, possibly a guitar and depending on the group, singing a capella.  Yes, to an eight year old it was boredom in the purest sense and tempered only by the sometime wasps that may fly in and out of the window.

Fast forward to 2011 where you may find, in some occasions, modesty has completely been thrown out the window and dress down is rule of thumb and if a man can ignore the tight jeans, short skirts and abbreviated tops, he is a better man than I. Music is complimented with a light show that could rival an Elton John national tour and if you can't hear the words you might believe you were at the Hard Rock Cafe.  Mixing boards and controls are of the highest state.

Somehow, I find myself lost in the transition and fight daily to make sense of the distractions and figure out where I am in all of this and wonder what is to become of us as people and how will God judge us on the perversion.