2004-03-10 - 11:54 a.m.
I asked my mom once, soon after my 30th birthday (yeah, I'm an old geezer, huh?), "When will I begin to feel like a grownup?" and she answered "I'll let you know when it happens to me". So I decided that today's entry will be about "Who do you want to be when you grow up?"

Right now (and this changes hourly) I want to be either Superman (without the cheesy costume, just the invulnerability, flying and super strength, thanks!) or St. Francis.

You're probably all thinking "Ok, the Superman thing I can understand. Who doesn't want to fly around and see through walls and be able to lift just about anything. But St. Francis? Wasn't he some guy who talked with animals or something?"

So, here is the breakdown. St. Francis just up and left one day from his rich family with nothing but a hair shirt because his dad said the medieval equivalent of "While you live in my house, you live by my rules". So, St. F gets points for that. Also, he spent his days afterwards begging for bricks and building materials to repair abandoned churches. He was the first Bob Villa. And for those of you young'uns out there, Bob Villa was great grandaddy to all the Martha Stewarts and Trading Spaces and all that other hooey that HGTV dredges up to follow whatever pop-culture train wreck happens to be drawing the rubber neckers today. Score one more for S.F.

Next, St. Francis lived in a little self-built hovel with his friends. It was camping every day! Plus he was always doing wacky stuff like getting married to Lady Poverty, hugging phantom lepers, declaring "I am the herald of the great King" in answer to some robbers, who then robbed him and tossed him in a snow drift, going to the Saracen's camp during the crusade and being dragged before the Sultan in probably the most audacious attempt at evangelism ever seen since the time of Constantine, and so forth.

But I think that the coolest thing about St. Francis had to be the stigmata. Forget about all those crappy The Passion Nail pendants. Anyone can buy a pendant. Nothing comes close to stigmata.

Anyhoo, I guess I was just thinking that if I ever meet a soul-mate/brother/sister/uncle, it would have to be someone who was down with St. F. (Do people still say they are "down" with something? Or am I being an old fogey again?) Whoever this person might be, they would also have to be ok with the general goofiness that makes up my inner life. Oh, and they would have to be cool with my diabolical machinations. Also, it would be nice if they brought some pizza. I'm really hungry.

Update - Forget about the pizza. One of my co-workers is getting me a yummy buffalo chicken sandwich. Maybe they could bring some chips instead.

Reading The Man who would be King and Other Stories by Rudyard Kipling, and Ancient-Future Faith by Robert E. Webber
Wishing I lived in an abandoned cathedral
Plotting to get out of work early this Friday... oh, and to steal the crown jewels (only if I have time)

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