I am in my hotel room in Calistoga, California. Things are quiet on the home front. Yesterday was not so. As you recall I shared my culinary experience from Sunday morning. It was epic. But it led to a disappointment in another area which I had not experienced in a long time. On the other hand last night, in this very hotel room, I did something I did not think I would ever do. Let me share my first evening at my Superintendents’ Meetings at Pacific Union College in Angwin, California.
When last I blogged I was fresh off a monumental breakfast experience at my son, Ruben’s home. As much as I enjoyed the guilty delight at my mother’s hands, I was not prepared for the disappointment I would suffer as the corresponding consequence later on that afternoon. You see, what I had forgotten is the fact that Sunday was Super Bowl Sunday! I guess you might say that bit of social disorientation was due to my media fast which is still progressing nicely even in early February.
Well, as you may well know, Super Bowl Sunday leads to Super Bowl Parties. My extended family is no exception when it pertains to this tradition. My brother-in-law Skip is famous for his parties, especially Super Bowl Parties. He is a cook par excellence! I cannot go into detail regarding the tasty treats he has previously prepared, for one because I did not eat supper tonight—I mean, not really….I was treated to a banquet of Italian food at the banquet I attended. Enough said.
Well, in any case, my brother-in-law Skip loves to cook almost as much as I love to eat—thus we make a great team. Since my boys have inherited my predilection for consuming delicious food in copious quantities, they too provide Skip with a sense of delight and satisfaction in seeing us devour what he dishes up. Thus my disappointment…. You see, I realized too late that it was Super Bowl Sunday and that an invitation was coming from Skip’s house to come and join them for the festivities. Upon arrival in the early afternoon my eyes and nostrils were not disappointed. There was food in various stages of preparation. I was first to arrive so I was asked by Skip if I was ready. I did not know how to break the news to him that I had not recovered from my mother’s breakfast, so I just told him, “I haven’t recovered from my mom’s breakfast.” I could not believe those words had emanated from my lips! I could sense the disappointment in the air. I went and collapsed on his sofa awaiting the start of the game, but really wondering what had just happened.
People began to arrive. My boys eventually showed as well. My shame was veiled somewhat. The food took a beating from the hoard of people. The aromatic smells of carefully created plates and mixtures of exotic and traditional dishes filled the air. I could hear the food calling my name. I did not move for some time. It was a dark day in the annals of the Escalante tradition. In the end I succumbed to the call of the wild—the wild amount of food in the house. But alas, I could not eat with the gusto to which people has become accustomed. I was a shadow of the man I had been but a few weeks ago. I let my bother-in-law down. I am sorry, Skip. I will make it up to you somehow!
The evening in my hotel room was another story altogether. I never thought I could do what I did. I broke a record that has stood through the years of habitual travel and lodging in various places around the world. It is a habit I have had as long as I can remember traveling. As soon as I enter a hotel room, I seek out the remote (or the ‘On” button back in the pre-remote control days) and turn the TV on. It is my addiction to noise and news that was my downfall. But not this time! I am in the midst of a media fast—half a Super Bowl game notwithstanding. I have to say that I did not think I could do it! But I am here to tell you that I fell asleep without a sound in the room—no music, no soundtrack, no script, and no jingles. All I heard was the sound of an occasional auto racing down Highway 29 in Calistoga.
A new day has come! I was alone with my thoughts for the evening and into my night’s slumber. I monologued with God about sundry things. Then I was alone with the silence of His response. I can live with that for now. I am not sure what I would do if I actually heard His audible voice! But I keep listening. I know He also continues to talk—I will keep searching for the channel He uses. Good night.
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