There is a place called 'El Parral' in Tremonton Utah. It is one of the very few Mexican restaurants where I truly clean my plate. The gentle reader is no doubt familiar with the obligatory shredded lettuce and chunks of tomato that litters the side of every plate of Mexican food. Nobody eats it. So why bother putting it there?
El Parral uses shredded cabbage and a bit of carrot and marinates it in salt (YUM). The chile verde is top notch. The chicken mole ain't too bad either. They're fast, friendly and affordable. I caught my oldest checking out the ass of the waitress. I suppose if I were 17 ..........well next topic.
The reason my entire family was in Tremonton today was for mother-in-law's funeral. Let me say up front that she was a kind, devoted, and decent woman. She loved all of my kids as grandchildren, not just the ones that were hers biologically. So on the outside chance that somebody from that part of the family stumbles across this blog, I must say that none of what I am about to say is specific to her on the family. It did get me thinking about some things is all.
Funeral food: As it turns out funeral potatoes and ham loaf aren't a Utah phenomena. Ask anyone that has lived in the midwest, especially Minnesota and the Dakotas. But, the startling uniformity of funeral food coupled with the metal folding chairs, and eating with a fair amount of people I don't know, prompted my visit to El Parral instead of the Tremonton 6th ward basketball court.
They call it compassionate service. I suppose it is. The people that show up and prepare the food, set up the tables/chairs etc. are doing it out of respect and perhaps love for the families involved. I'm not sure how my eating this slop fits into the grieving process though.
If they really wanted to have a meal that honored my mother-in-law they could have served the same food she served for family parties. There would be the roast beef that is something akin to the ham. Salty au-jus, thin-sliced, just pile it on a bun and eat it. But we also could have had her candied yams (YUM), her shrimp and macaroni salad (just take it easy on the green onion), and some greens besides iceberg lettuce with the Ranch dressing they sell at the local market. I despise Ranch......truly........but the stuff they sell ain't bad.
The second topic of Mormon culture I wish to mention is the blessing of children. For those who aren't familiar with this practice I'll briefly explain. According to the faith (LDS) that I belong to, there are several ordinances that are necessary. Things such as baptism would make sense to any Christian denomination. There is also 'confirmation', marriage, and a series of ordinances that occur in our temples. These are sometimes referred to as saving ordinances.
The point I wish to make is that blessing of children is NOT a saving ordinance, but it nonetheless a strong enough part of the culture that people outside the church would make the assumption that it is. There is some pragmatic parts of the whole process. The child, almost always a newborn, is given a name that they will be known by in Church records. The name is practically always the child's legal name. The child is thereby introduced to the congregation.
Stay with me know, I'm getting to my point. The second part of the blessing is the actual blessing which is supposed to be given as the 'spirit dictates'. In my life I have done three. All were over within 60 seconds. I gave all three children what I believed were meaningful, but succinct blessings. Which brings me finally to my point. The uniformity of what everyone else does.
They don't give the child a blessing. Instead they have a 'wish-list' as follows:
- strong mind and body
- example to your family
- baptized at eight
- receive the Priesthood starting at 12 (for males)
- serve a mission
- get married in the temple (hey weren't they supposed to go to college somewhere in there?)
- have your own kids
It is especially confused when you have grandfathers, uncles, brother, etc. doing the blessing. That means the father is either AWOL, a non-member, or a member that might as well not be.
I say they should mix things up a bit as follows:
- bless you not to end up a screw-up like one or both of your parents
- bless you with not getting knocked up (or doing the knocking up) early which the parents invariably did
- bless you with the infinite wisdom to listen to people that know what they are doing, unlike your parents or apparently your grandparents.
- bless you and your family with the wherewithal to get the f**k out of our basement apartment.
- bless you with a classic education with a hard science grounding and aheavy emphasis on writing.
That should about do it for me!
Remember go to the El Parral in Tremonton.
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