The Super Feast of the Presentation of the Groundhog
“When I was a kid, I made all these vows: When I’m a grown-up, I’m not going to learn to drive, which I haven’t done. I also vowed I wouldn’t have a mortgage, which I have done. I also vowed I wouldn’t have double glazing, which I have done … so I’ve basically compromised my childhood ideals on many, many levels. But I’m still making pictures and writing stories, so.” — Stanley Donwood
I don't have a cover image yet, but soon, I hope! In the meantime, here’s the Amazon pre-order page.
I am posting this newsletter a day earlier than usual because February 2, 2020, if written in numerals, is a palindrome no matter how you write it: day/month/year (02/02/2020), month/day/year (02/02/2020), year/month/day (2020/02/02). This kind of thing hasn’t happened since 11/11/1111 (or 11/11/1111, or 1111/11/11).
In more important news about this date, my friend Matt Milliner explains the astonishing convergence of Groundhog Day, Super Bowl Sunday, and the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple — the last of which, but neither of the former two, features the High Priest Mary.
From an essay by Terence Sweeney called “Leaving the Church Doors Open”:
Recently, a woman came in [to the church] wearing her pajamas. I had seen her earlier hugging a statue of Mary in the garden (we keep that open too). I quietly thought to myself, “what a nut!” and went to fold some vestments. I was just about ready to lock up when she came in. I wanted to get home, have dinner, drink beer, not talk to her. The lights were mostly out; I was so close to getting out of there. She asked me if she could come in. She gasped when she saw the windows in the dome. She muttered something about the sixteen chapels and the angel of David. I was thinking about Miller High Life. She looked at me and asked earnestly, “Is he here?” Jesus, I presumed. I said yes. I walked next to her up the center aisle, the lingering light shining off the golden tiles on the high altar.
She started to cry. “I just want a hug,” she said. This made me nervous. But she went on, starting to cry, “I want a hug from Jesus.” It was so corny, so hokey; I felt some tears swimming in my own eyes. She looked at me expectantly. I surprised myself and pointing at the crucifix replied, “He is hugging us all, he is hugging you.” Looking at the cross with none of my tired irony, she said: “He is right now.” I believed her words more than mine. We walked slowly out of the church. She looked back at his open arms, and walked out through the open doors.
STATUS BOARD
- Work: I am teaching the Cloud of Unknowing for the first time — I haven’t even read it in, maybe, 30 years? — and it’s truly astonishing.
- Music: The Band made their album of old rock and roll covers Moondog Matinée at a time when they couldn’t get along and when Richard Manuel was destroying his life with booze and drugs. Manuel features prominently on the record, and is at his best on the best version of “The Great Pretender” I’ve ever heard.
- Viewing: Mainly I’ve been viewing the newer iPad that I’m giving to my wife and the older iPad that was hers and is now mine. (Her need is greater.) That kind of switcheroo is theoretically fairly simple but in practice? — not so much.
- Food and Drink: The rebooted Koko Ramen is AMAZING.
