I need to get serious about my life. I mean, here I am, pushing 50 years old. I need to act my age. Straighten up and be respectable. Stop making stupid, embarrassing comments on Facebook. Start using my blog to address real issues, things that really matter to people. I need to start using words like euphemism, and ethical, and…other words.
I told Renata I was going to get serious about life. She smiled, said “Sure,” then turned on her heel, asking, “have you seen my keys?” I don’t think she understood I mean it.
Logan at the Taco Shop knows. I went by a few months ago wearing my “Thank God for Football, Women and Beer” t-shirt. “Nice shirt for a priest, Howie. Geez, it’s no wonder you can’t find a job.” (He remembers hiring me to work off-the-books once for a few days, when things were a bit slow for me in the ministry area. I took a bunch of stuff to the dump for him.)
Speaking of clothes, mine could use some updating. I could at least move up from jeans to Dockers or something. Look a little more serious, like a real Reverend. Start wearing my dog-collar. Clothes that fit my station in life. Maybe that upper-crust English fellow priest-in-training twelve years ago was on to something. But really, what’s so wrong with a Superman t-shirt? She should talk; driving a dorky British Racing Green Jaguar.
I need to get rid of my zits, too. Or rather, “address the acne issue”. If that wasn’t the biggest lie I ever bought! “All gone by the time you’re 18.” Sure. In any case, a pimple on the end of ones nose can, I have found, stand in the way of being taken seriously.
What about my title? A former colleague always went by “Revd. Prof. Dr.” when the rest of us agreed to just first and last names on our cards. It definitely influenced what we thought of her.
Imagine! A clear faced, long-term employed, Revd. Howard K. Adan, wearing nicely pressed Dockers and dog-collared shirt, shined shoes, matching blazer, writing serious sermons and blogs and Facebook posts.
I’m sure I would feel much more successful.