14 July, 2022
True Confessions
Dear and gentle reader, I am now settled into the rectory, and slowly but surely turning it into a home - ridding it of clutter and rubbish, and bringing my own inestimable style to this little house. And that, dear reader, leads to my confession to you.
I am a snob. I have been for at least four decades, and more. Mind you, I wasn't born into money. The family was solidly middle class, with all that goes with it for better or ill. From a young age, I appreciated the finer things in life - no, not money, you silly, grubbing prol (how very, very middle class of you), but the truly finer things, art, music, literature, culture. These are what is lacking in the middle class lives. I blame it on frequent trips to the Art Museum, or the Kinder Koncerts at Powell Symphony Hall. I lay blame on my excellent education as well. I didn't inherit my tastes from my parents, love them, though I do.
Because of that, I developed an extreme distaste for middle classism - the grasping for "respectability", the conformity, the overwhelming materialism, and the absolute low brow taste in art and entertainments. Yes, I am a snob, and I am not ashamed of it.
Granted, there is a spiritual danger in snobbishness, that of pride, or vanity, or even envy. I do my best to keep those monsters at bay. In my own life, and in my home, I do my best to surround myself with beauty in the arts. Perhaps it's eccentric of me, but then again, middle classism is totally opposed to eccentricity, since it doesn't conform, and it is seen as not respectable.
The curse of my life is to have the finer things - the delights of my earthly existence - mostly elude my grasp. Cursed with fine taste, I am limited by a meagre budget. Yearning for the fine arts, I've spent most of my life in tiny hamlets, devoid of taste and culture. Knowing, and doing my best to practice the social graces, I find myself surrounded by low-brow taste. Oh, don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying that those folk aren't good; they are indeed, most of them kind-hearted to a fault. But as far as culture goes, well, let's just say it's a veritable Sahara.
Couple this curse with that of being an introvert, and perhaps, dear reader, you'll begin to see my dilemma. Introverts aren't anti-social (mostly), but our sociability is quickly drained and we need to flee to the bliss of peace, quiet, and solitude to recharge ourselves. Much like Her Majesty, the Queen, and the working members of the Royal Family, I must go out, press the flesh, smile, be engaging, and all the while withering inside from the social interaction, and the lack of taste I must confront.
This evening, I went to dine at a nearby restaurant, famed for its steaks. The food was good, indeed, but I will admit, over-priced for what I got. The ambiance of the place was most lacking. Framed posters of by-gone athletes of the local university littered the rooms. The clientele evidently had never heard of dressing well. Sneakers and flip-flops abounded, tee shirts were in no short supply, there were even "gentlemen" wearing hats - well, ball caps, and one sported a do-rag or kerchief, or whatever it's called. One portly harridan scratched out her hair during her meal! This, mostly from the senior crowd. Ye gods! Weren't they raised better? I don't expect places to be white tie and tails, but I do expect decorum.
Perhaps I was born in the wrong age. Perhaps this is my purgatory, teaching me the necessity of humility and patience. But yet, I'd have preferred to have been born in past ages as a royal bastard. That way I wouldn't have the worries of running the state, but enjoy a nice title and the life of a gentleman scholar.
It's hell being a curmudgeon with taste. But, I stumble on, attempting to be kind, civil, and forgiving - at least in public. It's a very good thing that my cats cannot talk, they'd really spill the beans on me, if they could. Furry little ingrates!
Enough of my ranting. It is my fate to be frustrated. Perhaps things may have been more pleasant were I not cursed with great intelligence. As it is, it is all part of the cross I must carry, if I wish to be a saint - and I do. But don't expect me to be mediocre and cheerful whilst I do it!
As ever, gentle reader, God bless and keep you!
Father P.
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