This morning . . .

I was running late dropping Tyler off at school because the gas tank was on empty.  I did not want to risk running out of gas in the drop-off line at her school so we were at the gas station.  Tyler was sitting in the front seat of the car eating a chocolate pop-tart and drinking some milk.  I was putting gas in the car with my mind a million miles away multitasking and daydreaming at the same time.

Tyler opens the door of the car and runs back crying so I am stopped from drowning in my own thoughts.  She is worried.

The man is standing behind a pink mom mobile SUV with a Mary Kay cosmetics sticker on the back.  He appears to have been putting gas in the car when interrupted by a small woman carrying a very large leather bound Bible.  The man appears to be Middle Eastern and is wearing tennis clothes.  He IS yelling loudly at the small woman wearing church lady clothes of an out-of-style skirt suit. Her hair is carefully styled.  The small woman is wearing pantyhose and sensible heels.  She is not speaking but has a nervous smile on her face.  I have no idea what she said to the man but he is pulling at his hair and raising his arms to the sky when he makes a point.

Tyler is holding my hand wanting me to do something.  I don’t know what to do. The man gets in his car, slams the front door, and drives off tires squealing as he passes the next door Sonic.  The woman begins to walk toward her car parked at the vacuum station.  She has the same smile on her face.  I don’t know what to say to her and we are late to school. This is a moment when I need to teach my child something and I got nothing.  The small woman gets in the car and sits.  She is not vacuuming.  She is waiting to witness.

Last Month . . .

I have learned to arrive early for the philosophy discussion group at the coffee shop because there is limited seating on the couches.  I am not yet fully healed from abdominal surgery and sitting on the chair with little back support for four hours becomes painful.  I am drinking a Sprite and checking out facebook on the netbook.  I am wearing a Doug Stanhope fan baseball t-shirt with “Fuck the Yankees” on the front.    A young couple is sitting on the couch across from me.  She is wearing a t-shirt with “Jesus Loves You” printed on the front.  It is around noon on Sunday so I guess they have come from church.  He is staring into space not responding as she goes through a large three-ring binder with OUR WEDDING PLANNER on its spine.  She asks him about the color of the invitations. He says, “Whatever.”  He drinks his coffee.  She goes on for some time about the musical choices for the wedding.  He says, “Whatever.”  He drinks his coffee. 

After a dozen “whatevers” the rest of the discussion group arrives and settles in around them. The betrothed couple doesn’t move and listens to the first hour of the discussion about the original philosophy behind the idea of a utopia and if such a concept is possible.  I am new to the group so I don’t say much until the discussion about Plato’s Republic elicits a response that of course the philosophers would need to serve as leaders while workers such as plumbers who do not lead would support the utopia.  I think this is one of the most elitist statements I have heard in awhile and pipe in,

Uh-oh. Should not have said that.  Several of my friends in the discussion group look at me as if I had said tenure is not necessarily an inalienable right during a faculty meeting. They are a nice group of people all prone to reading rather than watching TV.   They are not confrontational and prefer civilized debate which I have violated.  Most do not identify as Christian and there are many members of the group who also belong to the atheist discussion group.  Several really are Socialists.  The betrothed couple has no idea they are sitting in the middle of a den of a dozen atheists with advanced degrees and a passion for debating the what ifs of life on Sunday afternoons.  I think they thought it was a Bible study group.

The soon-to-be bride sees my disagreement as an in to the discussion and asks if she can speak.  The moderator asks what she wants to say.  She  asks what church we attend.  I dunno. The kind where people wear t-shirts with “Fuck the Yankees” on the front.   She begins to witness about Jesus and the utopia that can be found when one is a believer.   This is gonna be painful and I am already in trouble for defending plumbers so I am not going to defend this young woman’s right to witness.  I get up to go the bathroom.  When I return the betrothed couple is gone.

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