If I dug deep enough into one of my closets, I'm sure I could probably turn up one of those Rice Bowls that I started every year as a kid. The idea always was to toss your spare change into the Rice Bowl as a Lenten sacrifice. At the conclusion of the 40 days of penitence and self-reflection, you would turn in the Rice Bowl to fund charity projects for needy kids across the globe.
I would start a Rice Bowl every year. I'm not sure I ever actually finished one.
Inevitably, my 'penitence' instead would make its way into my pocket, and toward a penny candy run at Fling's store.
Ask your parents, kids. Yes, there was once a time when you could buy candy for a penny a piece.
Welcome to Lent.
Christians today will be reminded that we are indeed human, that we were created from dust, and to the dust we will return.
It's pretty depressing stuff.
We commemorate this idea by having ashes placed on our forehead in the sign of the cross.
Today, that does not bother me a bit. But as a kid, the idea struck me as odd. It struck many of my friends as even odder, as they wondered what that smudge was on my forehead.
It was bad enough that had to walk home every day wearing my blue slacks, white shirt and blue Assumption Blessed Virgin Mary clip-on tie. Now I just knew every one of my friends was stared at my forehead.
The tradition of Lent has changed a bit over the years. Instead of giving something up, we now are encourage to instead be proactive, to do something.
I'm old school. I don't especially like change. I will continue to make my Lenten sacrifices.
There was a time when I would give up alcohol during Lent.
Then I came to my senses and limited it to beer. I rarely drink during the week, but I can tell you that when I get home Friday night the very first thing I do is grab a beer from the fridge. A small celebration that I have survived another week.
But a funny thing happened. These days, especially in the winter, I probably drink more wine than beer. And I'm not about to give that up.
Actually, if I was really serious about this, I would attempt to give up coffee. But that undoubtedly would not end well. My guess is the building would wind up surrounded by a SWAT team trying to talk the editor - who hopefully was not armed - down off the roof.
I am a coffee addict. So I quickly came to my senses and realized trying to give that up would be fruitless.
So I will once again fall back on what has become my Lenten standards.
I will once again attempt to refrain from cursing.
I have what you could describe as a 'colorful' vocabulary. The women out in our front office, who often cover their ears after editor's latest outburst, likely would characterize it a bit differently. Especially when they are profusely apologizing to some visitor at the front desk as the profane bellowing showers down upon them.
It's not something I am proud of. Look, I am someone who works with words for a living. I can tell you that cursing is the lazy man's resort. I am all too familiar with the world's most useful four-letter word. I think I have used it in almost every possible way. I am sure the good Sisters Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary would be embarrassed for me, and no doubt would be more than happy to remind me - with their trust gold ruler - of the error of my ways.
If past years hold true, this latest quest will last a few hours, until the next time this #$%^%&*( computer eats one of my columns or blogs. That doesn't count, by the way. It's only computerese.
As a backup plan, I will fall back on something that I developed - and regretted - last year.
My eating habits are not the best. Candy and sweets, those confections that everyone was busy slamming down their gullet yesterday on Fat Tuesday, are not my vice of choice.
Salt is.
Specifically, potato chips.
I blame Ed Herr. Yes, that guy on the billboards was a childhood friend. We went to school together. How old am I? I remember when Herr's, which now occupies an entire "campus" out in Nottingham in Chester County, was run out of his dad's garage. We used to snag hot chips literally as they came out of the oven.
I've been eating them ever since.
But not for the next 40 days.
That will make my wife happy. She is the one who chides me for one particularly nasty habit. Upon arriving home, I make a beeline for the drawer where the Herr's bag awaits. I don't even bother to take off my coat. I just dig right in, up to my elbow in greasy, salty delights.
For some reason, I do not put on weight, and my blood pressure does not go through the roof.
Last night when I got home, as usual I started to inhale another bag. And because I'm a sick person, I left a few in the bag and put in back in the drawer, from where it can tempt me for the next 40 days.
Pray for me.
It's enough to make me start cursing again.
Comments