389. The Last Sunday of Summer

This morning the rector at the Episcopal Church of the Advent likened the Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard to the ongoing restoration of electricity here along the Left Bank of the Ohio River near Milepost 606. The laborers, you may recall, were hired at differents times of the day but when the payroll came at the close of business all were paid the same and for some, specifically those who worked all day, this was unfair. The vineyard owner's response was simply it was his money and he paid everyone what they were promised. He asked if some of the complainers were jealous in some way.

This is one of those parables which makes us question our own desires vis-a-vis those around us. No one really rejoices in the moral argument made here. The sermon used the example that, despite Advent's congregation being small, about 30 people, most were still "in the dark." The church itself, at the top of Broadway on Baxter Avenue, had power, while the neighbors and members closest to it, did not. I am about nine blocks away; my power is on. He asked if anyone had complaints that Frankfort Avenue, Valhalla, downtown, and other areas had power while they did not. Something about the first shall be last and the last shall be first. Something about we are all one body. He could have added, but didn't, the lines about "that which you do to the least of mine" as a reference to how some without power felt about those who had it. As I said, it is an uncomfortable parable, one without much acceptance in today's societal requirements of instant gratification and the me first attitude of the past generation. At least I liked the LG&E analogy.

As I said, this week promises to be busy. In between the planned "plans" I need to get to Mom's for some general yardwork unrelated to the storm, and I have been spending most of my free time visiting my father, who has been hospitalised for most of this power outage. That isn't likely to change until later in the week. And my brother's moving - that should be interesting.

As to my brother's moving, as well as a futon I've promised to my friend Preston, I need a truck. I've owned a truck most of my life, up until this February. My trucks have been used to move me, my relatives, my friends, my friend's relatives, and any number of others, some of whom I've met only once, over the years. When I promised the futon to Preston earlier this summer, I failed to remember moving it required a truck. When my brother moves at the end of this month, it will be his first move in two decades without the assistance of his dear old brother's truck.

Maybe not having a truck is a good thing.

By the way, Summer ends tomorrow.