"The cheese stands alone" is a phrase I read in a Harlan Ellison short story, a long time ago, and in the intro to the story it was called "the greatest statement of existentialism ever written." To the best of my memory, the way the story ended was "It may be the tag-end of a shitty life, but it's MY shitty life. The cheese stands alone." It was about a guy who was forced to confront that all the really good stuff in his life was in the past.
But somehow, he dealt with it anyway. I didn't fully get it then, not having yet read Royce's response to Schopenhauer, but it struck a recognizable chord in my soul that resonates to this day. The next reference to cheese that struck a resonant chord was in a Jr. College field trip class, a biology class on California riparian ecosystems that took us all over the state in a short bus with a few teachers. We were camping at Mt. Tamalpais State Park and I'd just had an incredible experience climbing a big steel power tower at the top of the hills overlooking the bay and the city, and I got back to camp where one of the teachers was reading from a book. The book had pictures of Glen Canyon, now drowned by Lake Powel, and written by a couple brothers who'd had lots of adventures and the whole book was comprised of semi-rhetorical questions of the form, "Have you ever..." The one that grabbed me with a surprising force was "have you ever had a cheese sandwich for Christmas dinner, all by yourself in Death Valley?" So I vowed that year I would. And so I did. People asked me, why I chose to have a cheese sandwich for christmas dinner, all by myself in Death Valley, and I said it was because I got it from a book. But that wasn't the whole story, of course. The whole story, as usual, is a bit more complicated. It was the combination of those words out of a book and my own feeling of wonder in the moment when the words came to me. Having come down from the transmission towers, an exhiliarating and scary climb, with the memory of all those lights spread out below me, a grand view, yes, but a grand view of lights and people and buildings, a huge conglomeration encompassed in one single, lonely glance. I was aware of all of them, none of them had any idea of me. I felt light-head and exhuberant, coming down from that lofty perch. An incredible poetic power stole over me. I ran down that mountain, with such speed, strength and agility that I'll never know again, and I recited lines of poetry to myself as I ran and it all flowed so effortlessly, so powerfully. I mean a really epic poem. I don't remember a single word of it, it wasn't for publication. It was for me, all mine and it was absolutely perfect. I don't know how to describe the way the words lined up with the terrain in a practically magic poeisis, but there ya go. It did. When I got to the bottom, the teacher was reading, and my adventure was sealed. Camping in Death Valley can be a hassle, what with the rangers and patrols and all, so I found a spot in the surrounding hills and stayed there for a week, right through Christmas. I fasted, seeking purity, spiritual guidance and such, but mostly I was just lonely and cold and bored the whole time. About what you'd expect from a lone cheese sandwich for christmas. I learned to play the recorder and I can still whip out a few christmas carols on that cheap plastic musical instrument when you put one in my hands, but the most I gained from the adventure was a fierce and pure love of humanity. That's what you get when you leave all the people behind, a sincere and deep love of people. Which had the effect of making me vow to reach out and get involved with clubs and groups and things like that. Which led to my involvement with InterVarsity where I met Bill, and my future wife, and lots of good things that came from that involvement. None of which would have happened probably if I hadn't realized how much I valued human relationships. Don't miss the water 'less the well runs dry. So fast forward eight years and I'm married to Lu, we have a child, another on the way and its christmas time again. Since those years I'd stopped getting involved in clubs and organizations and I missed the camraderie and an opportunity came to go along with another InterVarsity group - this one from Cal Poly - on a mission trip to Mexicali. Lu and I went along as sorta chaperones and a visible cautionary tale to horny young people on what can happen when you fool around - since Lu was about 5 months preggers and bulging like a graceful whale. One of the places we went and "witnessed" was a mexican prison, and the sight of my young pregnant wife wandering amongst the many male prisoners out in the yard was a sight and memory to treasure for life. I wasn't worried a bit. Mexicans might have their racial failings, but even the worst criminal elements treasure motherhood and she was probably safer there than back home. Back home after a week, the normal culture shock at the opulence of self-indulgent California society was bad enough, but we went to a Christmas Eve ceremony with my Brother-in-law and his wife of the time, and it was so extremely shallow and vapid and nauseating that I was ready to spew the whole thing out of my mouth. But worse yet was afters at their house with my in-laws and everybody just went on and on about the effing mexicans taking over. Ok. There are a lot of mexicans in the Bay Area. And even more during good times such as we were enjoying back in the early 90's. But still. It was just too harsh to confront the severe racism right on top of coming down off our moralistic high tower and it left a bad taste in my mouth that lingers still. My brother-in-law eventually divorced that witch of a wife and found a much nicer one, but I have a long memory and he was certainly chiming in with the most extreme and disgusting racism I've ever heard. Fast forward some more (starting to feel like Ebenezer in the grips of the ghosts of Xmas past?) to last year. We're invited to Xmas dinner at the in-laws once again. I'm told by my wife to be there at 4:00, she's going early to help with dinner and knowing what sticklers they all are for timeliness, I get there at 4:00. But I guess that wasn't quite good enough because when I arrive, they've already sat down and started eating, which I cheerily take in stride but I catch more than a few negative comments, which took me by surprise and as the dinner continues and the snideness intensifies, I start longing for a simple cheese sandwich and the cold loneliness of desert vistas. So I vowed, "never again". And here we are, Christmas time again. Dinner on Christmas Eve at the in-laws, again, only this time my brother-in-law is visiting from Missoula Montana and he's added a hatred of Indians to his hatred of Mexicans. And since I've gotten involved with both at D-Q University, he's bound to rub me the wrong way and I'm bound to make an unpleasant scene. And likely, not that it matters, to get my butt kicked because my Bro-in-law is not only in law enforcement now, he's also a black belt, a body builder and an arrogant prick. sigh. But boycotting the whole thing, while it looks so attractive, would upset my beloved daughter, my beloved wife and my beloved son. And I'm just wierd enough to pull it off anyway. So I might. The only problem is I'm so broke I couldn't afford to drive to the desert or anywhere that would take more than one tank of gas. I guess I could hitch. Or take up drinking. Which do you think is the Quality Decision? Moq_Discuss mailing list Listinfo, Unsubscribing etc. http://lists.moqtalk.org/listinfo.cgi/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org Archives: http://lists.moqtalk.org/pipermail/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org/ http://moq.org.uk/pipermail/moq_discuss_archive/
