The business traveler's lament

Did I mention I've been in Atlanta? Yeah, doing a lot of traveling.

I'm in a strange hotel room
In a city not my own
I miss my home, I miss my wife
I call her on the phone

My water bottle's labeled
with a language I don't speak
It's clipped onto my briefcase
I refill it all the week.

What time is it what zone is it
Did you hear the news today?
What color is the money?
How long have I been away?

The alarm goes off at 3am
Although the sun is long since up
I stagger to the shower
Pour some tea into a cup

In yet another conference room
with powerpoint on a screen
We talk and question and discuss
The data that we've seen

What time is it what zone is it
What's the weather like today?
When can I leave to catch my flight
I don't want to be away!

Another airport, another plane
Stuff my baggage overhead
I can't wait till I get home
So I can go to bed!

International Quiz

Thoughts from the airport:

Which country has fast, modern trains, & tickets with a magnetic stripe that give you seamless access to public transit at the end of the line? Which one has old trains, always late, conductors who hand punch paper tickets and leave a folded or dog-eared colored scrap of paper above your seat to mark your stop? (UK, or the US?)

Which country has hand-held point-of-sale access devices for everyone from waiters to taxi drivers, and chipped credit/debit cards, for fast and easy payment? Which one has to carry your card off to run an old magnetic strip at some point out of your view? (Finland, or the US?)

Which country's citizens would find a promise that "95% of our citizens will have health care coverage!" to be a shameful failure towards the 5% who have no care? Which one thinks it a triumph? (Sweden, or the US?)

Which country has gender-neutral marriage for all of its citizens? Which one considers GLBT couples unworthy of any recognition, and even immigration rights for GLBT couples a "deal breaker"? (Norway, or the US?)

Which country has a long and storied military tradition, and a fully integrated military that actively recruits GLBT citizens? Which one carries out witch hunts against GLBT service members to remove them from the military? (UK, or the US?)

Next stop, Oslo.

Note from London

Greetings from London, where I have a brief overnight on my way to Finland. In any event, managed to meet up with blog friend Cathy (she who recently traveled with Grandmere Mimi around Scotland). Erika was also going to join us for lunch, but was called away by a friend's illness.

Cathy and I just attended evensong at Westminster Abbey. Gibbons, Byrd, though too much Howells. But the Bruckner was lovely.

I posted this not remembering what day it was. There isn't any of the "9-11: where were you" here in England, obviously. But in retrospect, spending part of the afternoon beneath the soaring columns of Westminster with the ageless sound of the choir wrapping round the stone tracery was probably pretty appropriate.

Pic from Wikipedia

Suicide by train: a tale from the rails

Someone died early this morning on the rail line near Anaheim CA. He stepped into a crossing in front of a Metrolink commuter train around 6am, stretched out his arms and waited for the train to hit him. The engineer couldn't stop in time.

Nearly 100 miles away, when I was getting on the first northbound Amtrak of the day, I read a message crawling across the information sign that the first southbound service was delayed due to a "passenger train trespassing incident". I didn't really think much about it; it wasn't my train, it was miles away. Maybe someone had gotten obstreperous with the conductor, or someone had been seen along the track. It didn't even cross my mind that those words were railway code for a fatality.

But as we left Oceanside at 7am, the man behind me got a call on his cellphone. "Well, then I'm screwed," he said, sounding annoyed. Then I got a call from a colleague who takes Metrolink from Irvine, the midway point. He told me that both lines, southbound and northbound, were blocked north of Anaheim. My colleague expected a prolonged delay, so he turned around and went home to telecommute. The man behind me said his caller told him authorities were waiting for the coroner up in Anaheim.

No one had any internet (or thought to use it). There is internet on some trains, but the low speed connection is spotty and unreliable even if you sit on top of it. I don't have a mobile wireless plan so I'm blind on the train, with my only resource scavenging off any open networks I find with my laptop as we stop in the stations. The little FM radio on my iPod nano couldn't pick up any news stations --coastal Orange County is a notorious dead zone for public radio (figures). And at some level, what did it matter what happened? All that mattered to the passengers, was what would happen to our train, and in regrettably typical Amtrak fashion, they said absolutely nothing at all.

For me, by the time I learned this, choices were few. If the lines were closed, there would be no southbound Amtrak back to San Diego: they'd all be stuck north of Anaheim. So even if I got off at an intermediate station, there's nothing to get on going south, at least nothing that would go all the way. And I'm sitting on the first northbound train, so there's no Amtrak ahead of me to be turned around. Besides, I had meetings in LA today. So I sat it out, and my train kept going north.

The lines reopened after about 3 hours, after the business of death swarmed around the tracks: policemen with yellow tape, railway workers in hard hats, the cleanup crew with bins and tarps. Once north of Anaheim, my train inched its way along with frequent long, sighing stops. Even so, we got to LA with only a 45 minute delay. Much faster than usual, said my Irvine colleague, who has more grim experience than I.

This is the 2nd death that I know of on the LA-San Diego corridor this summer; in June, a man was killed by an overnight freight train near San Clemente under rather creepy circumstances (at 2am, it appears that a group of teenagers watched him get hit). Other lines in the region have also had a number of deaths; sometimes suicide, sometimes stupidity (like walking along the line, or trying to beat the gates). They are depressingly common. I wonder why anyone would choose such a horrible way to die.

I sorrow for the victim today who suffered such despair, and for his family. And I feel for the engineer, at the controls of his massive machine, who was made an unwilling accomplice and saw it all. I hope that help is available to him.

One of my other commute friends told me that in the 4 or 5 years she's been doing this trip, her train has killed 6 people, most of them suicides. I find that quite shocking. So I know that it is inevitable that one day I too will be an accomplice of sorts, a few hundred feet away from death, a passenger on a train that kills a person.


First train through after tracks re-open. Photo: Orange County Register


Cross posted at Friends of Jake, Surfliner stories, Daily Kos, and StreetProphets

On the road again

...railroad, that is. This blogpost comes to you from the Pacific Parlor Car of the Amtrak Coast Starlight enroute from Los Angeles to Portland. More about this spectacular rail trip will be posted (eventually) at The Surfliner Stories, in the meantime behave yourselves, and I'll resume blogging next week.

Help St John's, Ketchikan AK, find their new rector.

The Rev. Dr Ronald Kotrc (retired) of St John's Ketchikan, Alaska asks all the visitors to St John's to help them advertise their search for a new rector.

It's a small, but warm and welcoming congregation in this tidy town. I've told you previously about our visit. The town is nestled in the temperate rainforest, and the weather is mild for Alaska, with ample rain but little snow. As well as fishing and tourism industries, Ketchikan is a great arts community too, with a lot of local artisans from "Southeast". The congregation is ethnically and economically diverse, not surprising in this very diverse region of Alaska. It also reaches out to the many visitors that come through.

I told Fr Kotrc that he had told the right person, and that all my friends online could help "get the word out" about their open search. SO! If you are, or know someone for whom this little parish sounds like a good fit, Spread the Word! Check out the job listing and the church's wishlist. Candidates can contact St John's, Ketchikan directly at 907-225-3680, PO Box 3003, Ketchikan, Alaska 99901 for more information.

I'll leave this at the top of the blog for a few days to be sure it's seen widely.






Photo: Totem of Fog Woman, Raven's wife, who brought the salmon. Ketchikan is noted for its totem poles that tell stories of the Tlingit and other native peoples.

A visit to Diocese of Alaska

IT and BP have been exploring again. As is our wont, we get a taste of local communities by visiting church, which gives us an opportunity to meet locals outside of shops and restaurants. On Sunday May 31, we were in Ketchikan, AK. It's a small town, about 13,000 people, hugging a narrow strip of land between forest and sea along the Inland Passage of Alaska's Southeast, and marks the southern entry point into that region. Ketchikian lives on fishing and summer tourism, feeding off the 10-story cruise ships and their smaller brethren that dock alongside in the morning, swelling the tourist shops and the false-fronted frontier downtown, and who depart in the evening, leaving a brighter, quieter community behind (one of the biggest arts communities in Alaska).

As we wandered the town, we walked past a small, clapboard church typical of the structures of this wet climate. BP was pleased to note that St John's, the oldest church building in Ketchikan, is Episcopal, and even more delighted to realize it was possible to attend the morning's service.

So there we were, in a cozy, wood-paneled church just steps from the dock, with a small but cordial congregation. A number of other visitors were there as well (though ironically they were all Roman Catholic!). The sermon, by the retired rector, was very scholarly. It's the kind of community where passing the peace takes some time because everyone has to wander around the church saying hello to everyone else. The Announcements slipped into a parish council meeting as there was a spirited discussion of the timing of the service for the 4th of July Sunday, relative to the town's parade. And then the retired rector, Fr Kotrc, asked an important favor of the visitors. St John's is looking for a new rector, and seeks our help to find one. We informed him that we have a great conduit on the internet tubes into the larger TEC community, and I will tell you more in a separate post so you can help get the word out. We then went out into the surprisingly sunny Alaska day.

Off we trekked further into a northern adventure, blessed by sunny weather and great vistas, orcas, otters and whales before us, mountains around us, and always the restless surge of the sea beneath.

A week later, June 6th, we were afoot in Sitka, the heart of Russian America. The skyline (such as it is, in a town of 8,800) is dominated by the spire of the rebuilt Russian Orthodox Cathedral, clad in the familiar clapboard, and with a bearded priest in the long robes and squared hat of the orthodox running up the steps. Further along the shoreline we found St Peter's-by-the-sea, the oldest original church building in Sitka, in a rather different style of wood and stone, built by its first rector. It's an enthusiastic TEC community that supports three (count them) services each Sunday, the extra one being a "family service" between the early morning and the more traditional later morning service.

Again, a small congregation at the service we attended, again, the church-wide exchange of the peace. This community is vigorous, outgoing, and joyful. They have a fabulous website, and a very personable rector, Fr Dave, who insisted the visitors stand and introduce themselves, and then handed each one a small cross lapel pin and an enthusiastic welcome. (The other visitor this time was a grizzled fisherman, not a tourist, which was a delight). Sitka, which is also a fishing town, differs from Ketchikan in that the cruise ships have to anchor in the bay and tender their passengers ashore. Thus, there aren't as many, and the town is not dominated by docks and 10-foot looming floating hotels that block the sun.

I commented to BP that I expect the sung Eucharist at our home Cathedral to take a long time, with 300 people in the pews and a full music program. What's surprising is that even with 30 people in the pew at these smaller churches, it takes just as long! Still, we enjoyed meeting everyone, and they were all kind and solicitous of the travelers, full of advice and good will and great love for their communities.

Nice church y'all got out there. You ought to advertise it more. ;-)




Photo: Hubbard Glacier, the largest tidewater glacier in North America--over 6 miles wide. This photo taken from several miles away.

On the Road in Minneapolis

BP and I are in Minneapolis on a combined business/family trip. We are staying close to the University on the East Bank. Last time we were here we were in St Paul, and had a very nice visit to the parish church of St Christopher's. But this time, BP said, "let's bag a Cathedral!" (I guess she enjoyed our trip to the Cathedral in Portland, OR.) A moment on the web showed us that St Mark's Cathedral is a welcoming parish, so off we went.

It's an imposing church, neo-Gothic in style, with a high, vaulted ceiling. The stone is warm tan in color, though I have to say I'm glad I don't have to pay for heating the place in the winter time. (Our own Cathedral is also neo-Gothic but much smaller in size--not surprising because it was built before San Diego was an independent diocese. ) A good showing in the congregation, and a good choir, though we were disappointed not to hear more solo-choir pieces. They did a Vaughn Williams piece that was spectacular, however. A little less pomp than our home community--no incense, no stately vergers escorting the readers, and the Dean, who presided and sermonized, is not a chanter. But he had a warm, Southern intonation and his image of social justice and inclusion ( "that's when the Gospel hit the fan!") was priceless.

According with our habit of showing up when things are happening, they were retiring their Deacon today, and welcoming a number of new members (including young families). We enjoyed bringing greetings to the Dean from our home Cathedral and got a warm welcome from him in return.

We travel a fair amount (as you will have seen) and so we rely on web sites to tell us if the churches we look at are likely to welcome folk like us. This one is a spectacularly welcoming, social justice parish. We felt very much at home there, and commend it to you if you travel that way. Way to go, Minnesota.

A visit to Trinity Cathedral, Portland

This weekend BP and I visited family in Portland Oregon. We had a great time, staying downtown in the very funky Ace Hotel, and riding the MAX train everywhere. What a cool city. We could definitely live there (of course we'd have to switch our identity from desert rats to rain forest bats).

Generally when we travel, we find ourselves attending local parish churches, as you've read before. However, since we were downtown, we decided to visit Trinity Episcopal Cathedral on Sunday, and compare it to our home Cathedral, St Paul's in San Diego.

Trinity is an imposing building (or rather complex of buildings) in dark stone. The cheery cherry red doors are a welcome dash of color under the grey Northwest sky. Inside the Cathedral is huge! It's a big, open space, quite in contrast to the narrow, neo-Gothic style of St Paul's, San Diego. Trinity's interior is painted in a pale cappuccino color that picked up a warm tone from the lighting and candles. We particularly appreciated the red cushions on the pews! :-) The choir was also large, and very good, though we were a bit disappointed that they sang few pieces alone, but mostly sang with the congregation. We also missed the St Paul's thurifer, who can swing a mean thurible (BP and I share an affection for incense both at home and at church). But those are minor differences, and we found it a wonderful and welcoming place.

The space was pretty full. We figured around 200 people were there , and noticed that they were (A) much better dressed than we were and (B) mostly older than we are. The reason for this was explained by the Dean, who was presiding, and who told us during the announcements that a "family service" was being held simultaneously in the church hall where about 180 kids and parents were located. All I can say is, wow. That place must be totally packed to the gills on a "normal" Sunday! It has an associated school, too.

A real treat was the sermon, which was preached by Rev Canon Marianne Borg, who is on staff there. She is Marcus Borg's wife, and we had heard from our own Dean about her . She is an outstanding preacher, very animated and alive in voice, with a warm approachability. She began with the reminder that all are made "very good". From there, she went to the different ways of knowing: head of course, but also heart and gut. One message (ironic, she acknowledged, given she is married to a noted intellectual) was to "remember" other instinctual ways of knowing and feeling. She told a sweet story:

A young couple had a second child and brought him home from the hospital. After a few days, their 4 year old daughter asked for a few moments alone with her new baby brother. The parents did not think that sibling rivalry had set in, but cranked up the baby monitor to hear what happened in the nursery when the little girl went in by herself. They heard her approach the crib and a creak as she grasped the rails. "Please tell me about God," she asked the baby. "I've almost forgotten!"

Reminding the congregation that many have "almost forgotten", she concluded with an exhortation to leave one's comfort zone, to put out to deep water, and to let down the nets. Of course it was far richer and more complex than this précis, but I found it an interesting and, I admit, intellectually satisfying homily.

Everyone was very friendly at coffee, and we were able to speak to the Dean and to Rev Borg. We were entrusted with greetings to take home to San Diego, and left with good things to chew on and discuss over lunch.

Oh, I almost forgot. Trinity Cathedral has an excellent bookstore, where BP decided to invest in her own copy of the Book of Common Prayer. As we crossed through airport security on Monday, BP's bag was pulled off the line. "Do you have peanut butter or something like that in here?" asked the agent, as she opened the suitcase. Seems the BCP has suspicious qualities on the X-ray. Fortunately once it was identified and examined, it made the grade, but it clearly has unsuspected potentcy. So be careful how you travel!

Aloha, and Mele Kalikimaka

In 1820, King Kamehameha II announced to his Hawai'ian people the end of the system of taboos, or kapu, the end of the traditional gods, and thus the end of the highly structured, ritualized society of old Hawai'i. Not long thereafter, the first American missionaries, of a strict Calvinist tradition, arrived, presumably finding fertile ground in the disruption that followed Kamehameha's announcement. The Catholics also came (see previous discussion of the remarkable St Damien of Molokai).

In 1860 or thereabouts, King Kamehameha IV and his wife Queen Emma (who was a noted philanthropist and life long Anglican), invited the Bishop of Oxford (UK) to send missionaries of the Church of England. The King and Queen were responsible for the translation of the Book of Common Prayer into Hawai'ian, and are revered to this day in the Anglican liturgical calendar (More on this from Padre Mickey). Thus the Anglican tradition gained a foothold on these volcanic islands, being officially established in 1862. Some of the church history can be found here . The islands lost their independence and their monarchy when annexed by the US in 1898, and just celebrated their 50th year of statehood.

The oldest Episcopal church in the islands is Christ Church in Kealakekua, on the west side of the Big Island, established in 1867. A small chapel, perched in the dense jungle green 1500 feet above the sea, it stands today overlooking an old graveyard. From their website:

The nave, built  by Rev. Williamson, was  the schoolhouse for immigrant children, mostly British, and a house of worship for native Hawaiians.   The present steepled church, begun by Rev. Williamson, is the oldest Episcopal Church in Hawaii, 142 years old and still functional. Queen Emma attended worship services here.

And it was to Christ Church that the traveling BP and IT, with kids, found their way for Sunday Mass and for Christmas eve celebration. (We were visiting the Kona Coast for a family Christmas reunion.) Our drive to the church led from the sere lava flats under Mt Hualalai, past the town of Kailua, and then climbing through the more rural communities along highway 11 into the dense green of the hillside. Services were held in the community center adjacent to the old building (to our disappointment, I admit) although we were able to see the cozy interior and the remarkable windows of the original church after the 10am Sunday service, thanks to the friendly Warden, Doug. (The photo below shows one of the windows, featuring tropical fish such as the humuhumunukunukuapua'a, and the Moorish Idol). Christmas Eve was preceded by an enthusiastic carol sing, and the entire congregation helped Fr Jim, their temporary priest, pronounce Mele Kalikimaka! (which means Merry Christmas). Fr Jim also filled in at bass in the choir and instructed a young thurifer in the correct handling of the thurible.

Parts of the service were also in Hawai'ian, for example this:

Ho`o nani ka
Makua mau 

Ke Keiki me ka
Uhane no, 

Ke Akua mau 

Ho`o mai ka`i, pu,

Ko ke ia ao, ko ke la ao 

Amene

WHich is basically
Praise God from Whom all blessings flow. Praise Him all creatures here below.
Praise Him above, ye heavenly hosts.
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. 
Amen.

The congregation is small, and seeking a new rector whom they hope will grow the community amongst young people and other groups in this area. The community right now is mostly white and older, but their enthusiasm and warm welcome to us were striking and there is a clear vibrancy among them. They have a lot to offer and I hope they are successful in their call. (We met one of the candidates, whom we liked very much, and will be interested to learn whom they choose). Again, from their website:

Diversity is accepted here. Whether we are conservative or liberal, traditional or progressive in our religious values, politics or lifestyles, all are welcome here. We are not called to agree, we are called to share the Lord's Supper as one family. We are called to walk a faith journey together in a nurturing, compassionate, inclusive community of seekers.

There's a lesson in that, for those amongst us more prone to argue. So Mahalo Nui Loa* to Christ Church for the warm welcome and hugs, and to all, a Mele Kalikimaka me ka Hau'oli Makahiki Hou!**



*Thank you very much
**Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

photos by IT, except for the images of the Kings

Healthy and growing

We're on the road again, in Berkeley to visit family, so off we went to All Soul's church in North Berkeley. I've blogged before about our trips to this parish.

It's tucked amidst the pleasant homes and small apartments at the base of the Berkeley hills just north of the UC Berkeley campus. This is one vibrant community, with lots of young families as well as many older people; the church was absolutely packed on this average Sunday with tons of kids. Our regular venue, St Paul's Cathedral in San Diego, is also full, but as a downtown church in an urban district, its members have a different demographic --not many young families live in downtown San Diego--and of course its style of worship appeals to us in a different way. But the full seats at St Paul's and All Souls' makes it clear that predictions of a dying church are greatly exaggerated.

Of course there is one demographic missing from most churches, whether Episcopal or not, and that's the late teens/young adults. I've decided that whether by design or accident, young adults give themselves a rumspringa with regard to faith matters. It's one of the reasons I feel very strongly that kids should be raised in a religious tradition; I think having that structure as a familiar is important, so that they have something to rebel against, as well as something to which they can return. Kids without familiarity are much more at risk, I've always thought, and much more vulnerable to bad choices and bad companions.

True, I'm not sure what gives All Souls such vibrancy. We've been in very nice, friendly local parishes elsewhere that are clearly struggling to fill the pews. All Souls is in a very established community and has been there for over 100 years, but there's nothing staid or complacent there. If we lived in Berkeley, we'd be happy to be part of it. Still, I must admit that I miss the incense and the English polyphony of the Cathedral service to which we will return next week.

The Anglican Communion, East

BP and I are on the road again, and thanks to the wonders of Google, were able to find a parish for her to visit. The church is called (I kid you not) St Alban's-by-St-Andrew's, as it resides right next door to the small Cathedral of St Andrew. It's a smallish building, very strikingly built with a traditional wooden interior and cross beams. Also quite a diverse community; the ushers were a middle-aged Japanese lady and a young African man. A good turn out on a rainy Sunday.

The congregation sang robustly and were very friendly at coffee, willing to tell the visitors sites to see and places to go. The members are truly far flung in origin, with a variety of accents delighting the ear, including Australian, British, American, and Japanese-inflected English. You see, St Alban's is the English speaking Anglican congregation in Tokyo, a member of the Nippon Sei Ko Kai (Anglican Episcopal Church in Japan), where your fearless correspondent is spending a week at a conference, and the members are a range of expats and locals. Lots of kids running about too.

As you would expect, the liturgy was pretty familiar, although some of the words differ. You'd have to ask an expert to detail the differences. A nice touch was at the end, when Fr Randall asked the visitors to introduce themselves and their home parish. I nudged BP who stood up and claimed St Paul's Cathedral, San Diego. There were visitors from Florida and England as well. We took along some friends from the conference who also appeared to enjoy this cross-cultural slice, before we spent the afternoon wandering rainy Tokyo and exploring her shrines and side streets.

That was yesterday for me, though still today for you. It's Monday here and I'm off on the day's activities. I've left a couple of posts in the queue and will be back to regularly blogging next week.

Wandering and welcome in the desert

IF you fly into Southern California from Atlanta, say, or Texas, you fly over the great Colorado desert. As your plane starts its descent over the Colorado River, you may forget that, since below is the unnatural greenness of the agricultural Imperial County (one of the most staunchly conservative and antigay parts of the state) and then suddenly the landscape below looks bleak and brown as you look out on a vast expanse of desert, rippled into folds of badlands and canyons.

Most visitors don't realize they are also looking out on an expanse of North American history. Spanish explorer Juan Bautista de Anza led an expedition into California from Mexico through this region in 1774 establishing an overland route to the coast. The famed Butterfield Stage pushed a brute-force route across the southern desert during the Mexican-American War, and in the late 1850s, this was the main route into California, the great Southern Emigrant Trail, across the desert and up over the mountains before descending into the fertile farmland on the other side.

Despite its monochromatic appearance from the air, the desert floor teems with life, from the dark green creosote bush, with leaves that smell like tar if you crush them in your fingers, to the ephemeral grey-green of the smoketrees, to the branching cholla cactus, each branch topped with pale golden thorns giving it the look of a halo aglow. Animal life also survives and even thrives: insects, snakes, and at night, scorpions, doe-eyed kangaroo mice, and singing coyotes. The endangered Peninsular Mountain bighorn sheep sip water from the occasional canyon oasis shaded by the rare California desert palm. (Borrego, the Spanish for "sheep", combines with the early explorer to name Anza-Borrego Desert State Park).

Desert living is hard, and communities often are boom-or-bust. The shells of lost commuities can be see along the desert roads, sometimes with a few people still scraping out a life in the searing summer heat. Palm Springs, in the Coachella Valley, is a booming vacation community popular with rich Angelenos. Sixty years ago, developers thought that they might create another Palm Springs in the next valley down. The small community of Borrego Springs was then home to a few cattlemen and farmers raising grapefruit and dates. Surrounded by a nascent state park (soon to become the biggest in the state, and the nation), it was almost unreachable in the early days. Although roads were eventually built in to the valley the developers failed in their goal to bulldoze a superhighway up to LA, with their desired route being blocked to protect the bighorn. Thus, the drive from more coastal cities remains slow and sleepy on twisting 2-lane mountain highways. Although Borrego Springs is a vacation and retirement destination (the population quadruples in the winter as the snowbirds return, but there are fewer than 3000 year-round residents), it lacks the big glamorous and expensive resorts, and maintains a quirky, small-town feeling.

Along the edge of the valley runs a narrow and unevenly paved road called "Church Lane" where four churches sit side by side: Lutheran, Catholic, Methodist (shared with the 7th day Adventists) and Episcopal. BP and I walked to the Episcopal church, St Barnabas, on Sunday Morning. It's a pleasant building, simple and light inside. Strikingly, the wall behind the altar is a huge picture window with a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains. Si monumentum requiris, circumspice.

The parish reflects the Borrego Springs demographic, being older overall, with many retired folks. It's a small community, but they were clearly involved and collaborative with each other. We felt very welcome, although they seemed a little disappointed we were just visiting, rather than new residents (the start of high tourist season is still a few weeks away). At coffee in the tidy little hall, with excellent home-made carrot cake, we were interested to see flyers about various activities, like helping at-risk youth in the grim farming town of El Centro in Imperial County, or helping farflung poorer desert residents deal with rural challenges like disposal of old appliances. There's a labyrinth laid out with rock in the sand outside the church which I bet is spectacular at sunrise. They are searching for a new rector and relying on supply clergy, although we were quite taken with their interim, Fr Juan, a retired priest. Clearly despite their small size, they are a vibrant and engaged group. So, chalk up another welcoming visit to TEC in the wanderings of IT and BP, desert rats.

The landscapes are mine, the other photos from the web. In 15 years of regular visits, I have yet to see an actual bighorn--they are very shy and hide in the up-country.

Meanwhile, back in real life

Those of us who are political junkies of whatever stripe have to remember that for the vast majority of people, politics (whether national or ecclesiastical) takes a relatively small role compared to the activities of real life.

We're in Berkeley this weekend, visiting family, and attended All Souls. This was my mom's parish as a child, and where we usually go when we're up here. And while GC was mentioned briefly, the business of the parish was much more focused on the events of the community, the monthly open meal for the hungry and homeless, the anniversaries and birthdays and events of everyday lives.

As for the dark prognostications of the conservatives that TEC is dying? This church surges with youngsters. I think there must have been 25-30 little ones coming up the aisle in this family-oriented parish. We brought a bulletin home to show mom, and she recognizes some of the names from 60 years ago, so there's a good sense of continuity as well.

As always, a warm and friendly welcome to the visitors, like us. They're starting to recognize us, I think. We quite like them too.

Postcard from Minnesota

We're in St Paul, Minnesota for a family wedding. BP wanted to go to Pentecost mass so we googled for TEC churches near the hotel. Well, that's not very helpful in determining who is welcoming to a gay couple, so next we went to the Integrity web site and lo and behold, there's a church listed: St Christopher's. They have three Eucharists on a Sunday: Rite I, Rite II, and RIte III.

There's a Rite III? Who knew?

For various scheduling reasons we went to the 9am Rite II. It is a nice parish church, with the steeply pitched roof of snow country. Everyone was very friendly and quite outgoing. We've gotten so used to the big service of the Cathedral that it was nice to be in a smaller parish church, where everyone knows each other, and the acolyte and the reader had the same family name. We enjoyed the sermon. When BP went up for Communion (I don't for obvious reasons) the elderly lady behind me tapped me gently on the shoulder and said, with some concern, "You are welcome to receive!" I thanked her.

We noticed as we left that there's a small sign in on the bulletin board at the entrance. It says "Friendly" surrounded by rainbow colors.

Yes, it is very friendly. Thank you to Fr Michael and the kind people of St Christopher's for welcoming the travelers today.

More Church notes from your local atheist

Those of you who have hung here for awhile know that yours truly is an (the?) atheist blogger in the Episcopal blogosphere. My wife, BP, the Roman Catholic continues to test the waters of TEC over the last few weeks since her church is not exactly welcoming her/us (and since there is a lot of post-Prop8 pain to boot). I am supporting BP in this which means I have attended church more in the last 6 weeks than in the previous 20 years, as BP tries out Episcopal churches. So far, in every church we have attended, everyone has been welcoming to this lesbian couple, which says a lot for TEC's inclusion and welcome. Give yourselves a good pat on the back.

We are visiting family in the Bay Area this week and went to church at All Souls Berkeley on Sunday, which was my Mom's parish in her youth. I'm a sucker for singing Christmas carols! A shout out to Fr Philip and the folks at All Souls for being such a welcoming community and to all of you wishing you warmth and peace for the coming new year.