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Tuesday June 16, 2009
My Hometown, Where Each Fall Jesus Christ Becomes a Caveman
Posted by: EJ Rotert (aka Squib) at 1:33PM CST on June 16, 2009

There's a tradition in my hometown of Pacific. Each fall, Jesus Christ becomes a caveman.
 
Not a caveman as in a troglodyte, but a caveman nonetheless.
    
You see, sometime prior to the Christmas season, in a small cave in a sandstone bluff directly overlooking scenic Route 66, a manger scene appears -- as if by miracle.
     
I guess I just haven't seen the manger scene's erectors. Or, if I have, I don't recall it. But each year, in this cave with its equipped electrical box, the baby Jesus is reborn amid the limelight.
 
The locals love the scene, especially at night. Visitors I have met in town -- some traveling Route 66 for nostalgic joy -- love it. There's only one problem: the manger scene is displayed on public property, something we all know -- or at least should, courtesy of court decisions dealing with similar cases -- is a no-no.
 
For years, I've generally kept the question locked in my mind: why would the people or person responsible do this when they know it's been ruled to be wrong?
 
Last fall I tracked down the man behind the scene. I discussed in a phone call with him all the standard issues: the overlapping of the religious with U.S. secular government, that everyone is not Christian, that everyone is not even religious. I added that, if someone was so inclined, he could file a complaint with the American Civil Liberties Union.
 
To say he was dismissive toward my concern is an understatement. It doesn't account for the arrogance he displayed.
 
He replied, `EJ, knock yourself out' -- and suggested I have fun doing it.
 
I found myself at a loss to argue with his suggestion. So early last December, I filed a complaint with the ACLU of Eastern Missouri, outlining the details of the case and our discussion.
 
Apparently the case is still under consideration. Earlier this year I received a letter from the ACLU acknowledging it had received the complaint. The letter said the organization's Legal Intake Department would contact me once it determined if it could help.
 
I don't have a problem with a manger scene being displayed. The props serve the Christian story. But I do have a problem with it being on public property, as should anyone who lives in a country where a government shouldn't endorse a particular religion, and rightly so.
 
There are a couple ways to address this, solutions that would serve nearly everyone -- whether Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, atheist or agnostic.

Directly across Route 66 is St. Bridget's of Kildare Catholic school. The manger scene could be moved to its roof. There, it would be clearly visible to both East and Westbound motorists. As things stand now, Westbound motorists can't see the display until they get right below it. Even then, at best, they only get in a quick glance.
 
The other way to address the issue -- and this is the one I like best -- would be to showcase the world's major religions in the cave, say one each month. Jesus would be up there in December, Muhammad during the month of Ramadan, one of Hindu's supreme beings -- for the sake of argument, let's go with Vishnu -- during another month. Judaism would also get its time in the limelight, as could religions such as Shinto, Buddhism and Taoism.
 
This jockeying of world religions in the cave would promote understanding of beliefs other than Christianity. As well, it would be a unique offering by my hometown, possibly without rival. On top of everything else, it would be along the inimitable mother road of Route 66, still a draw to the motoring tourist.
 
Let's face it: with globalization and our warring capacity to dispatch ourselves back to being troglodytes ourselves, our need for understanding and accepting the world's other religions has reached its zenith. Understanding a different religion is a big leap toward understanding another culture. In turn, that becomes a leap toward understanding other human beings, all of whom -- at their core -- are just like us.
 
After all, when it's all proselytized and done, culture is only veneer.
 

Friday March 13, 2009
Friday The 13th And That Masked Villain -- And I'm Not Talkin' Jason
Posted by: EJ Rotert (aka Squib) at 5:46PM CST on March 13, 2009
Friday the 13th, for me, is inexorably linked in my mind to one thing: an animal, like Jason, that wears a mask -- that wily trickster, the raccoon.
 
When I was 12 years of age, a raccoon attacked me on Friday the 13th, biting me about 10 times.
 
I was playing street hockey (actually, we were playing in a backyard) with my brother and a friend. In the course of the game I ventured over near a tree in which the raccoon was climbing. Growling loudly, it promptly darted down the tree and chased me across a yard. To this day, I believe I would have put enough distance between myself and the raccoon to where it would have quit chasing me; unfortunately, while running away I tripped over a tree root sticking out of the ground. Realizing I would be caught, and being without my hockey stick -- which I had apparently dropped -- I turned to face the raccoon, planted myself, and kicked with all my might with my right foot when the animal closed near enough. But the animal dodged the kick and grabbed my upper left ankle in its jaws. Reaching down, I grabbed the animal with the hope of getting my hands around its throat. But it squirmed and squirmed, thwarting me. In the meantime it kept biting away, eventually making Swiss cheese of both my hands.
 
By this time, my brother and our friend, Danny, had made it over to the battle to help. They started hitting at the raccoon with their hockey sticks, the raccoon trying to duck the blows. Myself, I picked up my own hockey stick to strike the raccoon as well, only to have the stick slip from my hands. My hands had been bitten so many times I couldn't work the muscles to grasp the stick.
 
The raccoon finally eluded the gauntlet of sticks and broke into a run across the yard. It was then that Danny's older brother, Sam, showed up. He had carried the goalie stick over with him, and as the raccoon was bolting, heaved the stick toward it. The stick skimmed a few inches over the grass for about 15 yards, barely sailing over the cowering raccoon as it ran away.
 
Why was the raccoon so much more protective of its environment than usual? Turns out it was a female that had several kits in a big dead tree next to the one in which it was climbing. Firemen found the babies when they showed up to catch the raccoon so it could be tested for rabies.
 
Looking back, I guess I got my just deserts. The day before, I had been bumming with my cousin Richie. It was on that day that we first saw the raccoon in the big tree next to the one in which its babies were later discovered. Recognizing a target for some fun, Richie bent down and picked up several rocks and started throwing them at the raccoon. Being the younger cousin, I followed Richie's lead. After both of us threw several rocks, we tired of the challenge of tagging the raccoon and went on to something else.
 
What about Richie? That jerk got away with not having to eat his dessert.
 
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