Joy

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Shunned (2018)

  “Back to my place.” “Your wish is my command.” He drove back to my apartment complex and parked. We rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, holding hands in silence. As I turned the key to open my door, Geoff spoke. “Are you sure you want me to come in?” he whispered. “ I won’t be offended if you shoo me away.” “I’m sure.” I couldn’t bear the thought of his leaving. “Let’s say good night inside.” I pushed the door open. “Would you like tea, or another glass of wine?” I was aware of an abiding calm and lusty anticipation. We took our wine out to the balcony overlooking the fountain and illuminated flower garden. I shivered in the spring night, and Geoff took off his leather jacket and draped it over my shoulders. His body heat was still in the lining as it touched my neck and arms. As he squeezed my shoulders with both hands, I felt the potency of his body. I leaned over and kissed him. It was a long, provocative kiss. A feeling like champagne bubbles traveled through my body. His jacket fell to the floor. I didn’t need it anymore anyway; I could feel heat swirling up my chest. His hand pressed on the small of my back as he kissed my neck. We stopped just long enough to put down our wineglasses. I slid open the glass door to my bedroom and walked inside. Geoff followed and watched as I lit a candle on the nightstand. We sat down on the bed and came together again. Everything moved faster then—our hands, our hearts, our breathing. It had been a long time for both of us, and we were hungry. His nude body was a welcome stranger. His chest released the scent of foreign cologne. As he ran his hands over the backs of my thighs, I felt powerful and attractive and worldly in the best way. We moved back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm. Eventually, we came to rest in each other’s arms, the candle losing its flame to a pool of melted wax. “Thank you,” Geoff said, and kissed me on the forehead. We lay there in content silence for a long while. “You can stay as long as you’d like,” I said. “All night, or not.” Spoken like an old pro , I thought, like I’d done this a million adulterous times. Geoff left very early the next morning, before breakfast, saying he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. I appreciated the space and time to reflect. As I floated through that Sunday, doing laundry, riding my bike, shopping for groceries, I searched my heart and found only joy. There was no guilt or regret. I was stunned at how easy it had been to fornicate, how liberating it was to engage with another human on that level, without promises or contracts.

• From Shunned (2018)

  It was darker here and quiet enough to hear the lake whisper. The sounds of the slip sails hitting the tops of their bobbing boat masts played a delicate music. The moonlight cast a mystical haze over everything. Steve was riding ahead, but he slowed the pace and looked back from time to time to observe my reverie. “We’re almost to the clock tower,” Steve said. “It’s next to the Waveland golf course, in case you ever want to play.” He despised the game but knew I was trying to learn. He never missed a chance to point out different things in the city he thought might interest me. The week before, as we rode the L train south to see a movie in the Gold Coast, he stopped at the kiosk to point out the different routes. The diagram reminded me of the table of elements from high school science class, with all its circles and street names and colors weaving in and out. Knowing my new job would require me to travel, Steve pointed out where to transfer from the Brown Line to the Blue Line to access O’Hare. A breeze whipped up from the lake as we rode beyond the golf course. To the right, separated by four lanes of traffic on Lake Shore Drive, a hospital and several high-rise apartment buildings pulsed with life. Even in these wee hours, there were plenty of lights on, and I felt the life of hundreds of thousands of people beating around me. I was delirious with the contrast of nature and city so close together, so tolerant of each other. When we rolled under the bridge at Diversey Harbor, Steve said, “Let’s stop here” and pulled off the path, down toward the breakers of the lake, stopping just at the water’s edge. “Check out that view.” The water was endless. We might as well have been at the ocean, and the moon was so full and the sky so clear, it was impossible to escape into darkness. “Isn’t this better than a neon-bright sag stop?” Steve asked. I nodded and stared at the expanse. We got off our bikes and rested them on the ground. Steve put his hand on my shoulder, pulling me close. How did I manage to land here, to be so lucky to find this urban paradise? To find a job here that I like? To find such a generous and handsome guide? I must be doing something right. There must be a god somewhere who is smiling on me . My skin was dewy from the moist air. I turned to find Steve looking at me with soft eyes, and we kissed. It was a long, gentle kiss between two people captivated by the fullness of one moment. We sat awhile longer in silence then collected ourselves and carried on past the sandy beach at North Avenue, the volleyball courts a deserted playground.

• From Shunned (2018)

  Believing these celebrations had their roots in non-Christian, pagan traditions, birthdays were absent any expectation of a party. [image "Images" file=Image00000.jpg] That isn’t to say that my family never had cause for celebration. On the contrary, when my dad became an official, on-the-books, 100 percent Jehovah’s Witness at fifty-eight years of age, with three grown children and two grandchildren, and then was baptized as a Witness, his unlikely conversion caused a level of unbridled joy in my family and throughout the community. My family had waited over thirty years for that moment, often doubtful it would ever come. Dad was turned off by religion at a tender age. His mom, my Grandma Emily, took him to the Baptist church in Tulsa, where the minister had a policy of saving the front rows for latecomers, in hopes that the humiliation of a late arrival would discourage that behavior. Grandpa Ward had passed away, and Grandma was a widow with two young children. They often found themselves next to the pulpit after enduring the walk of shame. The lack of warmth and hospitality, so pervasive in the South, made a huge dent on Dad’s boyish memory. It frightened him to watch the minister flapping his arms, lathering at the mouth with a fire-and-brimstone message. Little wonder that he grew up to be an atheist and regularly debated the theory of evolution with my mother. As we kids got older and better “informed,” we joined Mom in a formidable rally to support creation. We liked to remind Dad that evolution was “only a theory.” It was a quarrel we never resolved. Over the years, Dad leaned away from atheism and toward agnosticism, though I can’t account for why. As an outdoor lover who enjoyed teaching my brother to hunt and fish, perhaps he acquiesced to Mom’s insistence of intelligent design. Still, he resisted claiming allegiance to any deity. Over the years, we all learned to avoid dinner conversations about the merits of carbon testing, politics, or Jesus Christ. Doing so got the entire household riled up, Dad “taking the Lord’s name in vain” and stomping off to watch TV, Mom collapsing in resentment, ordering the kids to clear the table and do our homework. The passing years mellowed us all, and a mutually respectful détente was achieved. We never lost hope that Dad would come around, but we accepted him as he was, and he never prevented us from following our well-worn path to the Kingdom Hall. Then Phil Rivers came into Dad’s life like a gift from heaven. For many years, Dad agreed to let us host the weekly Bible study at our home. Every Tuesday night, Dad greeted our guests at the front door and pointed them downstairs to our family room. He stayed upstairs to watch television, volume turned low out of respect. This continued through the years after Lory, Randy, and I had all married and moved away.

• From Shunned (2018)

  It had been a long time for both of us, and we were hungry. His nude body was a welcome stranger. His chest released the scent of foreign cologne. As he ran his hands over the backs of my thighs, I felt powerful and attractive and worldly in the best way. We moved back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm. Eventually, we came to rest in each other’s arms, the candle losing its flame to a pool of melted wax. “Thank you,” Geoff said, and kissed me on the forehead. We lay there in content silence for a long while. “You can stay as long as you’d like,” I said. “All night, or not.” Spoken like an old pro, I thought, like I’d done this a million adulterous times. Geoff left very early the next morning, before breakfast, saying he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. I appreciated the space and time to reflect. As I floated through that Sunday, doing laundry, riding my bike, shopping for groceries, I searched my heart and found only joy. There was no guilt or regret. I was stunned at how easy it had been to fornicate, how liberating it was to engage with another human on that level, without promises or contracts. Geoff called that evening, and we spoke the lilting language of lovers, making plans for our next rendezvous. My mother also called, curious about my weekend. I told her the truth about going to Papa Hayden’s but lied about who I’d gone with, changing names to protect the guilty. The next week, I received a second bouquet of flowers at the office. This time, they were from Ross. He’d taken the time to buy a Hallmark card that said, “I think of you often, and you’ll be in my prayers through the days to come!!!” In bright blue ink, his familiar hand wrote how much I meant to him. He closed with this: “I hope I can help restore your faith in me and in Jehovah. Xoxoxoxoxo! Rossman” I was astonished that he was holding on to any hope of reconciliation and baffled by the ongoing delusion that he would have any role in restoring my relationship with God. I was also heart-struck to think of the shame Ross was enduring. While I enjoyed my newfound freedom to the hilt, he was slogging to meetings alone, enduring the watchful eye of a community that blamed him for failures as the spiritual head of the family. I called his house at a time when I knew he would not be home and left a short message to thank him for the flowers. Geoff and I continued to spend time together, though we were careful not to broadcast our romantic relationship around the office. Understanding the nuances of my situation, he never spoke of the long term and gave me plenty of space to do my own thing.

• From Shunned (2018)

  As we drove past certain streets and neighborhoods, I asked about people from the congregation who had once lived there. Each time, Lory gave me a thorough update. There was no hesitation in her responses, no stinginess with details. Mom spoke up from the backseat and turned the conversation toward Randy. Is this the same woman who visited me in Chicago and refused to share even the smallest tidbit of family news, preferring instead to grill me about my beliefs? Mom said my big brother and his wife, Marlene, were living in eastern Oregon, a stone’s throw from the Snake River at the Idaho border. Sheena had married and was expecting her first child within the month. This was big news to me, as I’d always been especially fond of her. If Grandma weren’t dying, how would I ever learn of these exciting and joyous developments? According to Mom, Dad was gloomy about the prospect that Grandma might not live long enough to see the arrival of this fourth generation, but everyone anticipated the happy event nevertheless. Mom didn’t say much about my nephew, Tyler, except that he was experiencing the usual struggles of teenage years. It was unclear why Mom was suddenly so relaxed and comfortable sharing so many family details, or why my sister was speaking to me at all, but I refused to question it outright. Grandma’s imminent death had been the catalyst, and, as with her passing, this level of intimacy was temporary. I preferred to enjoy it for its own sake. We arrived at my parents’ home. Dad sat with us in the dining room as we gave him the update on Grandma’s condition. Mom clicked on the heat, and we all sat in a circle around the floor vent to get warm, like we used to do when I was little. It felt foreign and familiar all at once. Falling into such communal routines is what I love about family life, and the tug at my heart reminded me of how much I had missed these simple rituals. Mom consulted Lory and me to weigh in on the printed program for Grandma’s memorial, what the picture caption should say, which poem and verse to use. And just then, I realized I had just enough time to comfortably reach the airport for an on-time departure. The day had slipped by like a warm breeze. “It’s time for me to go,” I said, standing to gather my things. “Thank you for calling me, and thank you for taking me over to see Grandma. Is there anything Bob and I can do to help right now?” Dad shook his head. “No,” he said. “Just show up when we call you.” Chapter 23 [image "Images" file=Image00000.jpg] The end of our exploring will be to arrive at where we started, and to know the place for the first time. —T. S. Eliot G randma died two days later.

• From Shunned (2018)

  Job came to life as the affluent Oriental, and once his era was on the page, it was clear that he had lived at the same time as Moses, though it was unknown whether the two ever met. Dad was captivated by the political intrigue and forces of nature that divided the nation of Israel throughout millennia. They traced Jesus’s maternal and paternal lineage back to Abraham, validating his arrival as the “promised seed.” King Solomon and Cleopatra got up and walked right across the page in all their regal splendor. Phil and my father made their way through the Psalms and the Gospels, watching water turn to wine, then traveled with the Apostle Paul to ancient Corinth. Each time I went to visit my parents, Dad unrolled the time-line like a scroll to show me his latest discovery. The project had become the talk of the Bible study group and then the congregation. Whether he could admit it or not, Dad had become a student of the Bible and was enthralled with what he was learning. Jehovah had become as real to him as Caesar or the Pharaohs. Then he started attending Sunday services with Mom. His language and demeanor softened. Sunday meetings led to Tuesday-night Bible study, which led to Thursday night’s Theocratic Ministry School. He enrolled as a student and started giving five-minute talks from the podium. Despite his shyness at approaching strangers, he even started knocking on doors. Over the span of five years, Dad embraced all the Witness activities except the ultimate one: symbolizing his dedication through baptism. A few months after Dad started preaching, I was rinsing lettuce at my kitchen sink in preparation for dinner when he phoned with an announcement. “I’ve got a secret, but you must promise not to tell your mother.” “What are you talking about?” I nestled the phone between my ear and shoulder and began to dry the lettuce. “I plan to get baptized at the next assembly, and I want it to be a surprise for your mom.” I dropped the towel to the floor and grabbed the phone with my right hand. Unnamed stars in faraway galaxies seemed to pause in their orbits. I stared out the window, allowing his words to sink in. “Hello? Lindy, did you hear what I said?” “You said you plan to get baptized,” I stammered. These were the words I’d yearned to hear since childhood, the black hooded riders awaiting dispatch to wage their righteous war. I cracked a joke to deflect the intensity of the moment. “Who are you, and what have you done with my dad?” “Thought you’d never see the day, right?” he said. “But I figured, why not? I’m doing everything anyway. It’s about time.” I never asked him directly, but I knew there was more to it. He’d always been deeply in love with my mother. Despite their arguments and bickering, the early passion of their teens had ripened to a symbiotic partnership.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  Yet if you want me to set an example, look, here you have the most powerful one, for I have had three wives simultaneously, and loved them so much that I have lost two who are taking other husbands; the third I can hardly keep with my left arm, and she, too, will probably soon be snatched away from me. Luther was jesting here about the matches he was busy arranging for the former nuns in his care. The “wife on his left arm” was, as Spalatin would have known, Katharina von Bora, for whom he was then arranging a marriage. He continued to tease Spalatin about his friend’s reluctance to get married: “But you are a sluggish lover who does not dare to become the husband of even one woman. Watch out that I, who have no thought of marriage at all, do not some day overtake you too eager suitors.” 8 So it proved. On June 13, Luther married Katharina, and on June 27 he held the wedding feast. 9 Just how much the confirmed bachelor had changed was apparent when, shortly before the wedding, Spalatin asked his advice about a couple who wanted to delay the public ceremony for a while, despite being sure of each other. It would have been obvious to Luther that Spalatin was talking about himself: The young courtier had fallen in love with a young woman but had been forced to delay marriage while he remained in the Elector’s service. Luther responded by pouring out a veritable flood of quotations from Scripture, proverbs, and history all designed to prove that weddings should never be delayed, concluding: “when you’re driving the piglet, you should hold the sack ready”—a rather disconcerting metaphor for marriage. 10 But Luther’s decision to marry also had a more somber impetus. It was made at the moment he had become embroiled in the Peasants’ War, which he saw as the triumph of the Devil. Writing to Johann Rühel in early May 1525, he toyed with the idea that the Devil had in fact caused the conflict simply to get rid of him: “I would even believe and it almost seems that I was the Devil’s cause, the reason why he made such a thing happen in the world, so that God should plague the world.” 11 Marrying “my Käthe,” he continued, was therefore the way to spite him: It was an affirmation of his “courage and joy,” his insistence on life in the midst of death. Like Karlstadt and Müntzer, Luther chose a noblewoman, albeit poor. But as he presented it, the initiative to marry had come from her.

• From Shunned (2018)

  Sheena and Tyler were adorable in their Sunday finest. Marlene was elegant, wearing a creamy chiffon dress with a diamond brooch she kept for special occasions. In short order Dad came out, the first to be immersed. He was wearing swim trunks and a white T-shirt. He approached the pool, handed his towel to an attendant, and walked down four steps into the water. I was struck by how assured and content he appeared. The water came just below his waist. An elder was waiting at the center and reached out his hand, maneuvering my father to stand at an angle in front of him. Dad crossed his arms over his heart and pinched his nose with one hand. The elder wrapped one arm around him, placed his hand at his chest, and dunked him backward, quickly, adroitly. Those of us standing near, a crowd of about fifty people, clapped in bliss. Part of me wanted to whistle and holler. My childhood dream was coming true. Yes, I was happy. After so many years of wanting something, I could not help but get caught up in the joy surrounding me. But my heart was a tangle of unresolved doubts and family loyalty. Dad emerged, soaking wet and smiling. He got his bearings, wiped his face and hair, thanked the elder, and slowly walked up and out of the pool back to the changing room. We lingered with the crowd, watching the other candidates while Dad got dressed. “Excuse me.” A tall blonde woman approached my sister and me as we were waiting. “Are you the girls whose father just got baptized?” “Yes,” Lory said. “I should have known by your tears,” she said. She pulled a little girl in to her side. “How long did you wait?” “Over thirty years,” Lory said. “It was a long haul.” “Everyone here is talking about it, and I just had to see for myself,” she said. “I came into The Truth a few years ago, but my husband isn’t interested. You give me hope.” “Never give up,” I said. “Someday he may surprise you.” I heard a loud cry and turned to see my mother running to hug my dad as he came out to greet us. Their embrace lasted a long time. I’d never seen them so happy, so in sync. Seeing them that way eased my upset and confusion. Lory and I moved back toward our family and waited our turn as Mom and Dad spoke quietly. A crowd had gathered around my father, people who’d known him and my family for years, who’d watched his transformation and wanted to congratulate him. It was then that I noticed Randy sitting in the first row of seats, sobbing uncontrollably beside my five-year-old nephew, Tyler, whose small hands rested tenderly on his father’s knee, his clip-on tie askew. Randy wept for several minutes, and it seemed his young son understood they were tears of joy.

• From Vision Quest (1979)

  “The guy told Dad he heard some squeaking in the back of the car, but he didn’t see anything back there. Dad said that when they opened the trunk to see if the spare tire was any good, they found five little kittens. They were very young and very little and four of them were dead. Dad took Katzenburger into his office and put her by the heater and gave her some skim milk. When he brought her home she could hardly walk. We took her to Poodle’s doctor, and he gave us some kitten vitamins and he wouldn’t give Katzen her shots for a few weeks and that for only about five weeks old she is a very healthy Katzen. We have to give her vitamins every two hours. Look!” Carla holds up a plastic dropper bottle filled with a dark bilious substance. “Smell!” Carla commands. I smell. My nasal passages are cleared for eternity. Carla laughs villainously. “Ha!” She bounces up and down on the seat. “Aha! We fixed you. That’s still not as smelly as your wrestling clothes,” she continues gleefully. “But anything worse might be permanently damaging.” “You sure showed me.” The stuff doesn’t smell that bad, actually. I take a cautious whiff. It just surprises you. “Smells very nutritious,” I say, handing it back. Carla is really happy. I confess without too much self-consciousness that seeing her this way really gets me off. My face expands into a smile. I can’t control it. My lips pull back over my gums. Smiling is easier when you don’t have any teeth. Probably not as pretty, though. Carla talks on about the promise of jars and jars of applesauce to be canned and speculates concerning cruelty-to-animals statutes. I guess I’m a little dizzy. The lights make me a little sick. It’s also about 8,000 degrees in this car. I crack my window. Carla brings her speculations to a halt. “Don’t get too much wind on the Katzen,” she warns. “Just need some air,” I respond. “Louden.” She takes my chin in one hand as she guides the DeSoto with the other. “Are you all right?” “Ah’m hungry,” I whimper. “Do you suppose if I called Shute he’d come down to the hotel tonight and wrestle me in one of the banquet rooms? I don’t know if I can last another week and a half.” “You could just forget it. You don’t have to wrestle him.” “Too late,” I say. “I’ve made my bed. Now I’ve got to starve and get hell beat out of me in it. I’ll eat a little something now; then I’ll be okay for work. And maybe you could fix us a snack when I get home. A couple hot fudge sundaes, perhaps? Some rhubarb pie? Two or three double cheeseburgers, maybe?” “Really?” Carla is wide-eyed. “No.” I sigh. “How about some applesauce?” Carla suggests. “Wonderful,” I reply.

• From Vision Quest (1979)

  “My first groupie of the new year,” he says, beaming. He asks us when we’re leaving for Konigi’s and I tell him twelve thirty. He’s got to stay till two. Otto and Rayette come over to say Happy New Year. I give Rayette a little peck. She’s slightly surprised, but quickly regains her composure. I’ve never kissed a black girl before. It’s fun, but no different. Kuch and Laurie come over. We wave up to Leeland and Joretta and Gene and Belle on the balcony. “Happy New Year, folksies!” Belle yells down. We dance slowly into the new year, holding tight. The band plays Santana’s “Samba Pa Ti.” We just float around in the beautiful music. Carla’s hair smells like herb tea. Sausage and the lead guitar player take turns with the melody. They both play it so clean and sharp. It’s funny to see Sausage do something with so much poise. You’d never guess that most of the time he’s just a dumb kid like the rest of us. It makes me proud of him. We clap a lot when the song is over and wave Sausage a good night. * * * The Konigi house looks like a shopping center with all their Christmas lights and all the cars. Mrs. Konigi greets us at the door. Many dark shapes stand around the long dining room table. They seem to stare obliquely at the assortment of good eats. I guess we’re last to arrive. Sushi, teriyaki, rice balls wrapped in seaweed, almond chicken, and other as yet unnamed yummies quaver in the soft candlelight. Behind us Mrs. Konigi switches on the lights revealing Coach, the David Thompson varsity wrestling team, and assorted girlfriends. Some people laugh, some people cheer. Mike Konigi leads me to the head of the table. He seats me before a plate heaped with steaming spinach. A small gold flag protrudes from the green glob like a buttercup from a cow pie. On the gold flag is written in green: “Good luck, Louden!” * * * I think Carla’s finally finished throwing up. She had an allergic reaction to the ginger in the teriyaki. She knew she was allergic to ginger, but she didn’t know they put it in teriyaki sauce. She stays kneeling at the toilet while I get a glass of cold water and a wash cloth for her face. She’s weak and shaky and her nightie sticks to her sweaty back. Throwing up is hard work. Katzenburger peeks out of the wastepaper basket. “Poor Katzen.” Carla gasps. “I scared the Katzen.” She feels a lot better and falls asleep almost the second her head hits the pillow. Katzen sits on my chest. She idles smoothly and her tiny eyes catch the slip of light from under the door and reflect it in a green-gold glow. Dad was worried and wanted to take Carla to the hospital but between barfs she talked him out of it. He’s back in bed now.

• From Shunned (2018)

  This included people who’d watched me grow from infancy through school and onto marriage, friends who had always been close to my family and remained so. One of these was a buxom brunette with spindly legs who used to babysit me when she was a teenager. Years later, I watched over her twins and took them out in field service during their summer vacations. She smiled as she passed, grabbed my hand to squeeze it, and, without saying a word, disappeared through the exit. In contrast, a few of the friends did approach me, friendly as could be, seemingly genuine in their delight at seeing me, eager to meet Bob, nothing amiss. Part of me was crying, and another was laughing at the absurdity of it. None of these people could possibly know anything about my life now, and I saw no reason to take offense, whether they approached me or not. For the moment, I found enough room in my heart for all of it. Thankfully, the distant relatives were oblivious to all of this, so these interactions were peppered with people who simply saw my extended absence as the natural consequence of living out of state. My parents and siblings were scattered throughout the room, engaged in their own conversations. Years earlier, I’d pressed my mother about what or how she had communicated my excommunication to Dad’s side of the family. She said they hadn’t told them anything. “We just told them you moved to Chicago. What else would we say?” That you shunned me. That I exercised my free moral agency and left the religion and my marriage. That the cost of my choice was being expelled. That you cut off communication with me. It was 3:15 p.m. We had been there an hour and a half, but it felt like five. The group was thinning. Dad approached and encouraged us to come to the house within the hour. “Don’t feel like you need to wait for dinnertime,” he said. “Just come.” Bob and I said our farewells and left through the front door to check in to our hotel and regroup for the evening. As we walked toward the rental car, a cool breeze enveloped my body and I shuddered. It was then that I felt the back and armholes of my blazer soaked wet from perspiration. Inside our hotel room, Bob unpacked, dressed in black gabardine pants and a sweater, and then sat next to me, signaling it was my turn to get organized. I lingered through several TV commercials, enjoying the reprieve, the lack of intensity, but finally stood and unpacked, too. I started fussing over whether to wear jeans or black pants, putting on one, then the other. I wondered out loud if jeans would be too casual or black pants would be too dressy. “I can’t help you,” Bob said. “I don’t know the norms of your family.”

• From Shunned (2018)

  I was astonished by the emotional terrain I had covered in just a few hours: the joy we shared over dinner; delight at finding the CD; dread at seeing familiar faces; sorrow while explaining my fears; then relief, comfort, and exhaustion. “Can I ask one more question before we go inside?” Geoff still held my hands but leaned back. “Sure.” “Where does this leave Ross? Can he start dating again, too?” “No,” I said, frowning at the reminder. “As long as he sticks to the religion, he’s bound by those rules. Until I die or commit adultery, he’s not free. And until I admit to the adultery, he’s stuck being single. Talk about guilt.” “Poor guy,” Geoff said, reaching for the car door. “This is why I avoid religion: too many rules that mess with people’s lives.” “Amen.” While Geoff and I continued our breezy camaraderie and lighthearted romance, my former boss John, who had recently been transferred to another division, discreetly approached me about a job working for him in his new department, organizing a massive training initiative. I already missed working with him and was flattered. I decided I didn’t have anything to lose by agreeing to have a few confidential, exploratory conversations with members of his new staff. One day, as I drove west over the Burnside Bridge after lunching with two members of John’s group, I had an epiphany. If I was going to investigate other jobs, why not expand the search even further, to include other companies and other cities? Other cities? Yes, why not? What would it be like to get a fresh start in Seattle, San Diego, or Chicago, all places I adored? Any job change would require an adjustment. Portland was beginning to feel small and stifling. Everywhere I went, I ran the risk of an awkward moment, bumping into someone from the community. Whether I was alone or with another person, such encounters were not welcome. Then there was the proximity of my family and their relentless watching and unfulfilled expectations. The thought of distance made me smile. In for a penny, in for a pound. Why not move? PART TWO Chicago, 1994 Chapter 9 The world is conspiring in your favor. —Anonymous It was just past midnight as we walked our bikes out of the parking lot, toward the crowd gathering at Grant Park. Despite the late hour, a hot Lake Michigan breeze swirled around my bare arms and legs.

• From Shunned (2018)

  Seeing how moved I was, she invited me to travel with her group to the Amazon to meet their indigenous partners—and one year later, I did just that. But after we spoke, I was still flying high from all I had seen and heard and was reluctant to break the spell by returning to my office. So I went to the coffee line, and that is where I met Bob. He was a founding board member of the nonprofit and had traveled to the jungle with Lynne and her husband, Bill, several years earlier. We found a lot to talk about. The spark between us led to dinner a few weeks later. Months after our first date, he told me he’d made a rare exception to his dating practice; at the time, the fact that I lived a half-hour drive beyond his acceptable dating radius made me “geographically undesirable.” Thankfully, he liked me enough to set that rule aside, which is just another example of how saying yes to something slightly inconvenient can be the smart choice. Three years later, we were married and that is hands down one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. The first thing I noticed about Bob was his strong, six-foot-two frame and Irish charm, which shone through a rascally smile and lighthearted laugh. He was divorced, with two children, an eleven-year-old son, Will, and a fourteen- year-old daughter, Christine, who lived with him half-time. He and his ex-wife had been apart ten years and had a warm, cooperative relationship. Possessing both an engineering and law degree, Bob was a sharp man who had run dozens of successful businesses all around the world, though he was never flashy about his accomplishments. He had a reputation for being one of the smartest and most humble of people in whatever group he belonged. I recall standing in our kitchen, getting exasperated as I sorted through our Tupperware cupboard, trying to find a bowl and matching lid. I threw up my hands, turned to Bob, and said, “This is chaos”—to which he replied, “No, my dear, that is entropy.” Rascally smile. Lighthearted laugh. Kiss on the cheek. Never have I known anyone better at balancing such a keen intellect with a warm heart. His sense of humor never came at another person’s expense. He thought the Catholic religion he was raised in was hypocritical and backward, particularly when it came to women’s reproductive rights and gay rights. He embraced the magic and mystery of life and had a very tender and reverential spiritual life that showed up in his love of nature, poetry, philosophy, and art. When you combine that with his mental prowess and generous spirit, you have a very elegant man.

• From Shunned (2018)

  As I got closer, Uncle Jess looked up through thick square glasses and, after a split second of cognitive reaction, threw open his arms. “Lindy,” he said in a lion-like whisper, wrapping his arms around me with unabashed affection. I squeezed him back, then pulled back to look at his face, noticing his laugh lines. “I’ll introduce you and Aunt Mary to my husband after the service,” I whispered. Mom touched my shoulder from behind, signaling that it was time to take our seats. Every row was filled with people, some whispering to each other, while a tedious melody piped in through the speaker system. Bob and I followed Mom down the center aisle until she stopped, pointing for us to sit down in the middle of the second empty row from the front. As we took our seats, I saw my aunts, uncles, and cousins of my age sitting next to teenagers who shared common physical characteristics—a dimpled chin or deep-set eyes. Many faces brightened as our eyes met. One of my cousins smiled and waved from across the aisle. I felt a hand on my right shoulder and turned to see my brother, Randy, sitting next to Marlene and Tyler. Sheena wasn’t there. Randy had a smile on his face. “You look good,” he whispered. Marlene nodded and smiled back at me. Mission Control, we have contact! Brother and sister just ended a twelve- year silence. Break out the bubbly. A polished wooden casket dominated the front of the hall, and beside it was the speaker’s podium. Bouquets of white lilies and yellow roses sat on either side. I wondered what Grandma’s favorite flower was and regretted that I didn’t know the answer. “Remind me what your parents’ first names are, again,” Bob leaned over and whispered. “You introduced them as Mom and Dad, but it’s Ruth and Frank, right?” I nodded my head. Mom sat down in the row next to Bob and me, and it was then I noticed Lory and Ove were seated behind her, next to Randy. It pleased me that we were seated with the immediate family, but it also added to the off- kilter feeling, fed by the mixture of a solemn occasion, joyful reunions, and gnawing apprehension about what would happen next. Who was talking to me? Who wasn’t? Dad approached the podium and tapped on the microphone. The music evaporated midsong. “Thank you for coming. As most of you know, I’m Frank, Emma Lee’s oldest. We will have two speakers this afternoon. First, Pastor Jess Strickland, Jr. —Emma Lee’s nephew and a Baptist minister—will recount her life and times, followed by words of encouragement by my son-in-law Ove Peterson.”

• From Shunned (2018)

  Besides not knowing what a “proper goodbye” looked like under the circumstances, it had been all I could do to face the firing squad of family and elders; saying goodbye to my friends would have been a few bullets too many. It probably appeared cold and heartless to my friends, but my lack of contact was a self-protective measure, a hedge against sorrow. Bob seemed engrossed in conversation with Lory and Ove. I wondered what they were talking about, but the room had grown too loud to eavesdrop and I was being pulled from person to person. “So good to see you.” “Where are you living now?” “What exactly does an executive coach do?” This was a cocktail party of just under twenty people. I scanned the room and still didn’t see my brother or sister-in-law. The doorbell rang, and my father urged me to answer it. There on the front porch stood Vince Lloyd and his wife, Sarah. Sarah let out a scream of glee, handed Vince the wooden bowl she was carrying, and gave me a hug. It was the warmest greeting I’d received from anyone there. Joy oozed from her, the way it always had. Vince also hugged me, an owlish grin behind his signature wire- rimmed spectacles. I took their coats, and they disappeared into the living room, greeting everyone else they knew there. Sarah came to find me in the kitchen, and we chatted like the long-lost friends we were. She updated me on their life and two children. It was as if no time had passed and no rules had been broken. Her exuberance for life had always been infectious to me. Her petite frame could barely contain the intensity of her energy, and she made sweeping gestures with both hands as she spoke. I found myself getting lighter and happier with each story she told. I soaked it up like beach sand welcoming high tide. I asked her about all our friends from my former congregation, the one she was still part of, and Sarah gave unbridled and detailed reports on the health and well-being of everyone I could think of. All seems well here. Like I have, everyone has carried on with life, some moving, some marrying, nurturing their families and communities. We may be guided by a different compass, different beliefs, but our values are similar. Life goes on, and we have all found our unique path. Vince joined us. It didn’t take long for Sarah to slip away, leaving Vince and me leaning against the kitchen counter. Vince had an inquisitive, intellectual mind, and we had always been able to slip into brainy, stimulating conversations with an easy give-and-take.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  But he was in high spirits. Writing to Spalatin on April 15, six days into the journey, he reported that they had reached Coburg, one of the Elector’s castles. Ever resourceful, and traveling as a mendicant without money, Luther had managed to get the Elector’s man Degenhart Pfeffinger—who had unwisely joined them at an inn—to pay for all the brothers’ meals: As Luther quipped to Spalatin, he always enjoyed separating a rich man from his cash.1 He hoped to get the castellan to pay for their stay at Coburg as well. But the footsore monk had also realized the error of his ways, and resorted to traveling by wagon: He had sinned, he joked, “since I determined to go on foot” and had failed, but as he had repented, he had no need to purchase an indulgence.2 It would be a good year for wine, he added, as he passed through the premium vineyards of southern Germany. At Würzburg, Lang joined the travelers for the leg to Heidelberg.3 The Heidelberg Debate offered Luther a chance to make his theology more widely known within the Augustinians. But Staupitz was playing a dangerous game. By this time he was under pressure from the provincial of the whole order to persuade Luther to recant; indeed, Luther had promised to send the Pope an explanation of the theses.4 It was therefore playing with fire to publicize the new theology by airing it at the meeting of the German province, and in a university town to boot where other academics were likely to attend.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  However, Luther’s mother’s family came from Eisenach, where they were respected citizens, and it is likely that Luther changed school at her instigation.9 She was clearly a powerful influence on her clever son, but we have much less evidence about her and scant information about their relationship. We do know that she came from a background very different from that of her husband. What young Martin gained from her may have been one of the reasons why he eventually decided not to follow the path his father had laid out for him. Luther later reminisced that his mother “carried all her firewood on her back.” We can sense, from her slightly bowed back in Lucas Cranach’s portrait, that this woman was not an elegant burgher’s wife who left to the servants the work of fetching water or carrying weights. And yet she had learned relatives, and was the bridge to the more refined world of Eisenach.10 Tellingly, Luther gave her a copy of On the Love of God, written by his mentor and confessor Johann von Staupitz, dedicating it in his own hand to “my dear mother.”11 One of Luther’s first biographers, Johannes Mathesius, tells a revealing story of how Luther first discovered a Latin Bible, which contained so many more “texts, letters and gospels” than he had ever imagined. He excitedly leafed through it, coming to the story of Samuel and his mother, Hannah, which he read with “heartfelt pleasure and joy.”12 Hannah—or “Anne,” as Mathesius calls her—had been barren, and her son, conceived in answer to her prayers, was named “God has heard.” She presented him to the priest Eli, intending that he should pursue the religious life. As Mathesius’s readers would also have remembered, as a youth, Samuel was called by God three times, finally replying, “Speak Lord, for thy servant heareth.”13 He then became not a priest, as his mother had intended, but a prophet. Three of Luther’s companions—Mathesius, Johann Aurifaber and Anton Lauterbach—all provided versions of Luther’s first encounter with a Bible in their notes of Luther’s table talk, from 1531, 1538, and 1540, so it was evidently a story that Luther liked to tell. Its emotional significance suggests how central his mother—also known as “Hannah”—may have been to his sense of religious vocation; Luther too would later style himself a prophet, having also ended up on a path different from what his mother might have envisaged.14

• From Vision Quest (1979)

  My head level with her breasts, I did one pushup kissing her right nipple and another pushup kissing her left. Then my nerve deserted me and I got up and ran like hell for the pickup. “Wait!” I heard Carla yell behind me. Aunt Lola was sitting in the rocking chair on her porch waiting for us when we arrived. Since my great-uncle Walker died Lola has had to depend on family and friends for some little things, like splitting wood and rides into New Kettle and Colville. She said the Baptist church van comes around once a week to take folks into town and back, but that she can’t always catch it because she doesn’t always feel up to walking out to the highway. I don’t know the name of the condition that makes old people’s ankles swell—maybe it’s just Time—but whatever it is, her ankles get about the size of cantaloupes, so it’s no wonder she doesn’t feel like walking out to the highway. We had a good ride. The past year and a half or so, Lola and most of the other folks, young and old, around what they call “Panorama Land” have been pretty upset about all the “hippies” moving in and marring the panorama. Communes spring up around Colville like toadstools around Lola’s pond. “There’s another one a them hippie girls,” Lola said of what I took to be a normally overdressed girl walking down the main street in a sunbonnet, shawl, long dress, and bare feet. “At least she looks clean.” We teased her some. “Prob’ly nothin’ but a mass a marijuana scabs under that dress,” I said. “Her packsack is probably full of food stamps and Goodwill underwear,” Carla said. “Well, she don’t look no worse than the two of you.” Lola smiled at us. And, boy, was she correct. “You know,” I said, “I’ve seen pictures of you and Uncle Walker where you looked just about like that girl there and Walker had a handlebar mustache about to his ears. You’re a lot prettier than that girl, of course,” I added, giving her a little elbow in the ribs. It’s easy to forget sometimes that people Lola’s age were raising families before cars were a common thing, were grandparents before a jet first broke the sound barrier, and now buy Skylab and lunar module toys for Christmas presents. I think it speaks well of my aunt Lola that she even took a ride in the pickup with Carla and me without pushing money on us for haircuts and new jeans. In the Safeway store I gave Carla a small kiss on the back of her neck when she bent down to sniff the smoked salmon in the meat bin, and she goosed me with a big purple beet in the vegetable aisle. Then she got me with another wet Willy as I balanced a twenty-five-pound bag of sugar on my head to the check stand.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  After Luther’s speech, discussions continued, but by now darkness had fallen, and the Diet soon broke up. As the report from Luther’s circle put it in another self-conscious reference to Christ’s Passion, when Luther departed, “a large group of Spaniards followed Luther, the man of God, with jeers, derisive gestures, and much loud noise.” They were heard to shout, “Burn him! Burn him!”51 —WHAT had Luther meant by this appeal to “conscience”? It has a modern resonance, suggestive of freedom of thought and of the right of all individuals to decide for themselves. But this was not what Luther meant. The German term he often used, Gewissen, is closely connected to words like “knowing” and “certainty”; in Latin, the root of conscientia—another word he used regularly—means “with-knowing.” Luther was of course writing long before Freud formulated his three-part model of the mind, where conscience is identified with the superego, the part of the mind that imposes external norms and moral prohibitions. Nor did he mean an inner voice containing the authentic individual. For Luther, the Word of God is absolutely clear and plain in its meaning, and “conscience” is the individual’s internal knowledge of that objective meaning of God’s Word. This is what he meant by his insistence that his conscience was “captive to the Word of God.”52 Moreover, for Luther the conscience is not just an intellectual faculty but is also strongly linked to a complex palette of emotions. A conscience can be sad, burdened, clouded, joyous, happy, or peaceful. It can be weak or strong, or even courageous. It may be paired with the heart, another seat of emotions, and with faith. And it has a special relationship to God, with whom it communicates directly.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  65 Unlike other reformers, Luther rarely claimed divine inspiration for his ideas. It is interesting too that he uses the word Kunst —art—for it suggests that the insight, like the skill of a craftsman or artist, opened up a whole new ability to accomplish things in a different way. However, the most famous account of his Reformation discovery came in 1545, the year before he died, in his preface to the first edition of his collected Latin works, when he described his reading of the Psalms in 1519 and his renewed encounter with Paul’s Letter to the Romans: At last, by the mercy of God, meditating day and night, I gave heed to the context of the words, namely, “In it the righteousness of God is revealed, as it is written, ‘He who through faith is righteous shall live.’ ” There I began to understand that the righteousness of God is that by which the righteous lives by a gift of God, namely by faith. And this is the meaning: the righteousness of God is revealed by the gospel, namely, the passive righteousness with which the merciful God justifies us by faith, as it is written, “He who through faith is righteous shall live.” Here I felt that I was altogether born again and had entered paradise itself through open gates. There a totally other face of the entire Scripture showed itself to me. Thereupon I ran through the Scriptures from memory. I also found in other terms an analogy, as, the work of God, that is, what God does in us, the power of God, with which he makes us strong, the wisdom of God, with which he makes us wise, the strength of God, the salvation of God, the glory of God. And I extolled my sweetest word with a love as great as the hatred with which I had before hated the word “righteousness of God.” Thus that place in Paul was for me truly the gate to paradise. 66 Significantly, Luther dated the transformation not to 1515, the year when he lectured on Romans, nor even to 1517, the year of the Ninety-five Theses, but to 1519. 67 Scholars have treated this chronology with scepticism, however, and insisted that Luther’s understanding of faith must have been arrived at well before the Ninety-five Theses were formulated. In reality it seems more likely that Luther was still forming his ideas then, and continued to do so for quite some while afterward. 68 Nor was it entirely clear in which direction his theology might develop, for some of the ideas and themes present before 1520 were subsequently dropped. Just how fluid early evangelical thought was can be seen in Luther’s enthusiasm for mystical ideas, especially those of Johannes Tauler and of the so-called Theologia deutsch . The latter was a fourteenth-century text in the vernacular, which Luther published in part in December 1516 with a brief preface, and then again in full, with a more detailed introduction, in 1518.