This past Christmas my sister asked what I wanted and I said, A new backpack. She asked whether I wouldn't prefer a computer case or a briefcase or something more sophisticated. So I told her that I needed something that would hold my wallet, laptop, papers for grading (some professors still insist on hardcopy, and I need to print out a 30-page design document for a ship's hull in order to be sure I'm actually reading it), my lunch, the occasional quart of milk and half-dozen apples I pick up on the way home, swim clothes and shampoo,shoes (for when I'm trying to look like an actual adult), and storytelling stuff.
The final category, the storytelling stuff, is the one that sometimes crosses worlds. During the week, I mostly carry around objects that wouldn't get me into much trouble going through airport security. (Except perhaps for the killer shampoo.) But on Sundays I usually carry little figures or model silhouettes of ancient cities, or my best approximation of the Ark of the Covenant (matchbox painted gold mounted on popsicle sticks) - and usually an X-Acto knife, scissors, clay and assorted Sharpies for those last-minute repairs and tweaks. Most of the time I manage to keep all the payloads separate and get the sharp objects out before I have to fly anywhere - though it has been a close call sometimes.
Yesterday morning I found a lump of modeling clay in one of the little pockets. Modeling clay comes in very handy on Sunday mornings. It helped me to hold up the fenceposts when I told the story of the Israelites' Tent of Meeting, and I also used it to great effect when I illustrated passing along the light - with a birthday candle for each child in a pyrex roasting pan. In a crisis, a lump of clay can quiet an upset kid. Yesterday, as I was sitting in my office contemplating my own general crankiness and mortality, I started playing with the lump of clay and made this little cat. (I have told my officemates that she is our Scaremouse, as our building has its share of critters.) Every time I try to make something that actually resembles something from the world around me, I get a disproportionate amount of satisfaction from the results, even if they're not really successful.
Tonight a hearing took place at City Hall regarding our church's plans to tear down our old parish hall (which is a huge firetrap) and, partnering with a developer, build a mixed-use building that would house classrooms and church offices on the ground floor and condos on the upper three floors. It's a scary project, but I don't think it's possible for the parish to do nothing. Right now our old buildings are firetraps, not handicap accessible, and very wasteful to heat. The developer who would build the condos would help finance repairs to the historic sanctuary (which would remain on the site.) I've been dreading the meeting. Last week I talked to a friend who lives on the residential street that abuts our property, and she said that she mostly objects to the attitude of the developer and of our rector. She has felt patronized and dismissed. I held back from saying, "Hey, me too." That conversation actually stopped me from writing to the planning board in support of the project. During this past week I have been turning over in my mind what I wanted to see happen and what was the ethical choice.
As it turned out, the meeting was not as acrimonious as I had feared. We had a good presentation, and the neighbors made valid points. I think the planning board is going to make the developers modify their design before they grant us the variance - which I think would be the equitable solution. For the first time in several weeks I may actually get a good night's sleep.
