WFDT

Friends,

Have you ever been saddled with a responsibility you do not want? We remain in Florida with Mother’s consanguineous relatives, and by extension, mine. We are here for a wedding – thankfully an indoor wedding.

This morning while we ate breakfast one of the cousins interrupted my meal, saying, “TulaneLSU, we took in a foster cat last week. He’s really new to us and he doesn’t like being alone. We know how much you like cats, so we wanted to see if you would mind watching him during the wedding today.”

Do these people know me? I have never been an ailurophile. That polyphiloprogenitive bunch makes too much noise, has little sense of loyalty, and has scratched me more than once. I was opening my mouth to express my affection for dogs rather than cats when I was interrupted during my first syllable.

“Of course he can.” Surprise and disappointment gripped my tongue into stasis. Mother had just planned my day for me, a day with just a hobo cat.

So while the party moved on, I am stuck at this house. There is nothing wrong with the house. It is to my standards. The furniture is of respectable quality, not like the disposable junk of Ikea or Walmart or Rooms2Go. The refrigerator is large and well stocked, although, there is no jumbo lump crab or even lump crab. What kind of host does not stock her fridge with crab when visitors are staying? There is a verdant lush garden with a pastoral field behind it. A few live oaks give shade to the struggling St. Augustine sod. St. Augustine has always been my favorite grass because it is indirectly named after one of the greatest theologians of our Church.

So I spent the day alone here. I did bring several books with me, so today was spent in their library reading. Before this month, I had not read Kierkegaard’s The Lily of the Field and the Bird of the Air in two decades. It was one of my first reads of Kierkegaard and came from an old copy of Christian Discourses, which was edited by the great Walter Lowrie. The last time we were in Princeton, Grandfather told me as we walked by the Walter Lowrie House on Stockton Street that he had gone to one of Lowrie’s lectures. Afterward, he chatted with Lowrie and Lowrie invited him back to his house.

At the house, according to Grandfather’s story, spoke mostly about Kierkegaard. But then they began talking about how Lowrie ended up in America. “He told me about Albert Schweitzer’s letter to him about Schweitzer’s work in Africa. I do not know how living in Princeton equates to working with the destitute in Africa, but that was how Lowrie saw it.” Grandfather also mentioned how strange a man he was. I think anyone who spent 12 hours a day for much of his adult life translating the works of Kierkegaard would have more than a few idiosyncrasies.



The Lily is a beautiful little piece, 80 short pages, and its language is more vivid in the new Kirmmse translation. If you have not read the new translation, it is past time to do so. It is perhaps the most intimate of Kierkeagaard’s works, a true sermon on that beautiful passage from the Sermon on the Mount.

The cat still has not come out, perhaps because I have been reading the book aloud, just as Kierkagaard asked his readers to do. Did it really need me to catsit?

There are some tomato plants in the garden, and this evening I picked a few very large tomatoes. Some of these were six inches in diameter. I will never not be amazed by and marvel at how sunlight, soil, water, and a single seed can grow into something like this tomato. Truly, miracles exist today and hardly anyone notices.





Late June and early July is one of my favorite times of year solely because we are in the peak of tomato season. And these tomatoes are so good. Do I love them so because they remind me of eating tomato sandwiches with Grandfather in the garden of our old Prytania home? Or is it simply the beautiful flavor? I have eaten around 30 pounds of tomatoes in the last week and will probably eat another 30 by mid-July. With each bite I praise God for this miracle and gift.





I had three tomato sandwiches this evening, each with a slab of tomato heart over one inch thick, just bursting with acidity and the juice of Earth. After I was finished with all the bread, I ate a few more tomatoes with nothing but salt. Hungry yet, there was one NY strip remaining, so I grilled it. It was okay, but inferior to last night.



Although I beseeched Charlotte residents to go to the Christopher Radko warehouse sale yesterday to take pictures, no one heeded my plea. For that, and being apart from family while they celebrate a blessed event, I am a little sad now. The tomatoes sitting on the table, though, will make me smile anyway.

Yours,
TulaneLSU

A prayer for our meals:

Father,
Abide with me: fast falls the eventide;
the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Grant your blessing on our meals.
Strengthen us to your service.
Yours is the kingdom,
And the power
And the glory
Forever and ever.
Amen.

Spare Ribs, Shells and cheese, onion straws and a German Pils

I had two BLT’s for lunch.

quote:

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TulaneLSU

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Friend,

I see that you love tomatoes, and tomato sandwiches specifically, as much as I do.

Unfortunately, I have not had my first respectable tomato sandwich of the season. I hate to be disappointed in the first, so I've been waiting till my brother supplies me with some. Soon I hope.

A few years ago, for another forum, I wrote down some thoughts about the mighty tomato sandwich and thought you might like to peruse it.

Mash for Tomato Sandwich Book

Daughter wanted hot wings and homemade Vidalia onion rings.