When I awake again it's just past five, so the most I could have been sleeping for was an hour.It's not nearly time to get up, and I've read all of my library books.Nothing on the television but some preachers from some mega church.
I've been dreaming again, but I'm not going to write it down this time.It was just a short dream of flying in an airplane, and nothing strange was happening. The preacher is talking about how to get God to bless us in his finances, saying that there is no need for Christian people to be poor.
Down the road there is a Mega Church.It's called the Center Street Church, though the main campus is now a few blocks off of center street.Janet and I went there once too, back before the new campus was built. It's also the place where Angie and I had our first and only date. I've always been partial to church as an ideal place to go on a first date, because if she isn't interested in church, then I guess I'm not interested in her.
I met Angie in August of 2004 at a Bluegrass festival southeast of Calgary.2004 was my fourth year attending the festival,located on an old pig farm,on a remote and bleak, yet beautiful piece of land about ten miles east of the town of Nanton. On the third week of August, I'd pack up my guitar and a tent and take the bus out to Nanton. Usually the ride took about an hour and a half, and I'd arrive shortly after nine in the morning, and start walking towards the farm.Nothing much happened there until just after dinner, so I'd have all day to get there.My feet were still limber back then, though I'd been diagnosed with Plantars Faschitis the year before. I never managed to get very far on foot, because someone would always happen along that was going to the festival, so I'd end up with a ride.On this particular occasion, a semi stopped right in the service station parking lot where the bus stopped, and told me to jump up in the cab.In the trailer were a dozen or more bawling cattle.Inside the cab, the driver sat behind the wheel, and he was accompanied by an Australian Shepherd named Annie, who eagerly came over and laid her head on my leg, barking once or twice in greeting.I scratched her ears and her stomach as we drove along, the driver explaining that he was taking the cattle to a slaughterhouse in Medicine Hat.We talked for a while,about the things you talk to farmers about-weather and crops, which he said were looking good, about a month before harvest.Before I knew it we were at the farm, and the driver was stopped to let me out.As I was getting down from the cab, then pulling down my guitar, Annie decided that she wanted to accompany me.So I said something about it not being a good idea to steal the dog of a man who was kind enough to offer a lift.He laughs, and I lift the tail wagging Annie back up into the truck.
It's only about nine twenty by the time I reach the farm, and there is not a lot to do.So I set up my tent in what I think is the choicest spot, and wander around the grounds as other cars start slowly coming in.There are a few people I know coming in, most of them in large RVs,and I talk with a number of people.The festival is an opportunity to catch up with people I know, but usually only get to see once a year.So I sit around on a picnic table, strumming my guitar and visiting my old friends from Edmonton, and catching up on a years worth of news.
Sometime in the mid afternoon, a blue pickup drives in through the gate and stops by the picnic table where we are sitting.A woman gets out and asks where the best place to set up a tent is.I tell her that small tents are usually set up along a nearby fence, and myself and whoever I was sitting with offer to help her set up camp.It's not long until we have her tent set up, about twenty feet away from my own.
It's still early in the day, a few hours before any of the bands take the stage, so we all sit around and talk, telling stories, and eating some food this woman, and some others who had just arrived brought with them.The woman in the blue truck was maybe five foot four and had a short, stylish haircut and clothes a bit more fancy than what most people would wear to a Bluegrass festival.So, as festival time drew near, she was sitting beside me atop the table, and she looked over at me and said"Hi.My name is Angela."
Angie turned out to be companionable enough, but in truth, she didn't spend much time watching the bands, or jamming later on in the parking lot.She hadn't brought an instrument of any kind, because she didn't play one.It turned out she was a retired ticket agent for a major airline, and she lived in Northwest Calgary.I was surprised that she was retired, because she didn't seem that old to me.She still had a shapely figure, and was by any account good looking if not beautiful.As it turned out, she was thirteen years older that I was.
Once the festival was underway,Angie spent most of her time asleep in her tent, and I thought that rather strange.Whenever she was up and about though,she would always stroll over to the picnic table, and her and I and whoever else was there would talk for a bit.Then she would disappear inside her tent.I never did see much of her in the pavilion where all the bands were playing.
When it came time to leave on Sunday night, Angela, who was now insisting I call her Angie told me she would drive me back to Calgary.I never really made plans for getting back once the festivals were over, because getting back just seemed to happen.I'd start out walking, but I knew almost everyone at the festival, so I always found a ride before I got too far away.
So I accepted Angie's offer.After driving into High River, for some reason I don't remember, she drove me right up to my front door in Mission District.It's there that we decided to keep in touch,to see each other again, maybe even to go on a date.I wasn't really certain that I wanted that, because I'd sworn off dating about three years before.Still Angie hugged warmly, lingering a bit longer than seemed called for, and I promised to call her.It wasn't long until I did, and we planned a whole Sunday together, starting with Church.
I rolled over, trying to get back to sleep, thinking of Angie and how she'd come and gone,thinking that I must call work to try and book a trailer for Monday, thinking I didn't trust preachers from Mega Churches who talked about how Christians were decreed by God to be wealthy, and how if you were not wealthy, then there had to be something wrong with your Christian walk.Thinking of how I would walk by Center Street Church on a Monday morning on my way to or from work, and see an armored truck pull up to the door, and leave a few minutes later, after the guards had collected a number of canvas bags.
I've been dreaming again, but I'm not going to write it down this time.It was just a short dream of flying in an airplane, and nothing strange was happening. The preacher is talking about how to get God to bless us in his finances, saying that there is no need for Christian people to be poor.
Down the road there is a Mega Church.It's called the Center Street Church, though the main campus is now a few blocks off of center street.Janet and I went there once too, back before the new campus was built. It's also the place where Angie and I had our first and only date. I've always been partial to church as an ideal place to go on a first date, because if she isn't interested in church, then I guess I'm not interested in her.
I met Angie in August of 2004 at a Bluegrass festival southeast of Calgary.2004 was my fourth year attending the festival,located on an old pig farm,on a remote and bleak, yet beautiful piece of land about ten miles east of the town of Nanton. On the third week of August, I'd pack up my guitar and a tent and take the bus out to Nanton. Usually the ride took about an hour and a half, and I'd arrive shortly after nine in the morning, and start walking towards the farm.Nothing much happened there until just after dinner, so I'd have all day to get there.My feet were still limber back then, though I'd been diagnosed with Plantars Faschitis the year before. I never managed to get very far on foot, because someone would always happen along that was going to the festival, so I'd end up with a ride.On this particular occasion, a semi stopped right in the service station parking lot where the bus stopped, and told me to jump up in the cab.In the trailer were a dozen or more bawling cattle.Inside the cab, the driver sat behind the wheel, and he was accompanied by an Australian Shepherd named Annie, who eagerly came over and laid her head on my leg, barking once or twice in greeting.I scratched her ears and her stomach as we drove along, the driver explaining that he was taking the cattle to a slaughterhouse in Medicine Hat.We talked for a while,about the things you talk to farmers about-weather and crops, which he said were looking good, about a month before harvest.Before I knew it we were at the farm, and the driver was stopped to let me out.As I was getting down from the cab, then pulling down my guitar, Annie decided that she wanted to accompany me.So I said something about it not being a good idea to steal the dog of a man who was kind enough to offer a lift.He laughs, and I lift the tail wagging Annie back up into the truck.
It's only about nine twenty by the time I reach the farm, and there is not a lot to do.So I set up my tent in what I think is the choicest spot, and wander around the grounds as other cars start slowly coming in.There are a few people I know coming in, most of them in large RVs,and I talk with a number of people.The festival is an opportunity to catch up with people I know, but usually only get to see once a year.So I sit around on a picnic table, strumming my guitar and visiting my old friends from Edmonton, and catching up on a years worth of news.
Sometime in the mid afternoon, a blue pickup drives in through the gate and stops by the picnic table where we are sitting.A woman gets out and asks where the best place to set up a tent is.I tell her that small tents are usually set up along a nearby fence, and myself and whoever I was sitting with offer to help her set up camp.It's not long until we have her tent set up, about twenty feet away from my own.
It's still early in the day, a few hours before any of the bands take the stage, so we all sit around and talk, telling stories, and eating some food this woman, and some others who had just arrived brought with them.The woman in the blue truck was maybe five foot four and had a short, stylish haircut and clothes a bit more fancy than what most people would wear to a Bluegrass festival.So, as festival time drew near, she was sitting beside me atop the table, and she looked over at me and said"Hi.My name is Angela."
Angie turned out to be companionable enough, but in truth, she didn't spend much time watching the bands, or jamming later on in the parking lot.She hadn't brought an instrument of any kind, because she didn't play one.It turned out she was a retired ticket agent for a major airline, and she lived in Northwest Calgary.I was surprised that she was retired, because she didn't seem that old to me.She still had a shapely figure, and was by any account good looking if not beautiful.As it turned out, she was thirteen years older that I was.
Once the festival was underway,Angie spent most of her time asleep in her tent, and I thought that rather strange.Whenever she was up and about though,she would always stroll over to the picnic table, and her and I and whoever else was there would talk for a bit.Then she would disappear inside her tent.I never did see much of her in the pavilion where all the bands were playing.
When it came time to leave on Sunday night, Angela, who was now insisting I call her Angie told me she would drive me back to Calgary.I never really made plans for getting back once the festivals were over, because getting back just seemed to happen.I'd start out walking, but I knew almost everyone at the festival, so I always found a ride before I got too far away.
So I accepted Angie's offer.After driving into High River, for some reason I don't remember, she drove me right up to my front door in Mission District.It's there that we decided to keep in touch,to see each other again, maybe even to go on a date.I wasn't really certain that I wanted that, because I'd sworn off dating about three years before.Still Angie hugged warmly, lingering a bit longer than seemed called for, and I promised to call her.It wasn't long until I did, and we planned a whole Sunday together, starting with Church.
I rolled over, trying to get back to sleep, thinking of Angie and how she'd come and gone,thinking that I must call work to try and book a trailer for Monday, thinking I didn't trust preachers from Mega Churches who talked about how Christians were decreed by God to be wealthy, and how if you were not wealthy, then there had to be something wrong with your Christian walk.Thinking of how I would walk by Center Street Church on a Monday morning on my way to or from work, and see an armored truck pull up to the door, and leave a few minutes later, after the guards had collected a number of canvas bags.
No comments:
Post a Comment