June 7, 2015

I went to a pretty Anglican church today that's a little bit closer to where I live, rather than to the Unitarian church, that's kind of far away. The priest said communion was for baptized Christians, but if other people wanted to come forward, they should cross their arms over their chest to indicate that they would not receive communion, and the priest would pray for them instead. As I'm neither baptized nor a Christian, I knelt at the altar and crossed my arms as instructed. There are people who self-identify as Christians who say a lot of nasty things about us transgender people, so when he began saying his prayer for me, it seemed so beautiful that someone would pray for me like that, I almost burst into tears. Then I had to walk back in front of the congregation with the scrunched up face of someone who is trying not to cry.

The weather was gorgeous--brilliant blue sky, puffy white clouds, everything and everywhere green--I tried to go hiking at the state park. I took my dad's truck. Along one of the roads on the way, there were signs about a new county park, also with hiking trails. I pulled into the entrance, drove down the access road, and tried to park. That's when it happened. Backing into a parking space, I touched the back bumper against a tree. The part that touched was the plastic part (of the bumper), and it left a dent. It was sickening. I didn't know whether to cancel my plans or not. Finally I realized that whether I apologized to my dad at 2:00 or 5:00 it wouldn't make any difference, but I didn't feel like staying there, so I left and went to the state park, as I had originally planned. The nature was stunning, as I expected, but I couldn't focus on it.

After I finished hiking, I went to the store and got an apology card. I wrote out an apology and put it in an envelope along with one hundred dollars, probably a completely inadequate amount. When I got back, I gave it to him, but he didn't accept it. 

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I had intended, in honor of Mens, to post an excerpt I had found of How We Think, by John Dewey, but it was too long. I offer this, instead, a very nice, plain statement of the basic elements of clear thinking, by a spy novelist named Jefferson Flanders.

Although I'm feeling tonight that instead of worrying about how to think clearly, I need to worry about driving correctly.