And so, furthermore...because I am like that, I will interrupt my reading for a moment (and be so audacious, as well, to intone in its author's voice), "dear reader," to come over here and make a note.
On the surface, and perhaps permanently thereso, but who can say, it is at best but a silly note; underneath, as I said, who can really say.
Anyway, it has been quite some long time since I quoted my grandfather, the minister. It is, I'm sure (or think I am), mere coincidence, that today also marks 40 years from the departure of his son, my father, from the home he shared with me for my first seven years.
I'm sure I've only ever quoted two of his phrases, at least one of those, perhaps both, plagiarized from the Bible. "Truth, thy word is truth," is how he began each sermon or service. That is not the one I quoted in the entry before the one before this. Rather, I quoted the second, with which he concluded, in that portion that is the delight to the ears of any pew-sitting child, each service with the offertory, when he would read, "the peace that passeth all understanding."
If I have quoted that one before, it's been at least several years.
I promised silly, and I promise I will deliver on that promise, too.
So, tonight I decided to read some more Jane Eyre. I was already about half-finished, and the book was due back this past Wednesday, so I figured I would do that rather than sit here on th e Internet. About 150 pages further in, from there at the bottom of page 528, sprang the reason for my stoppage to make this note.
Jane was thinking about one of the characters, a fairly religious man, being a parson and all, when she observed of the guy, Mr. St. John Rivers, that, all "pure-lived, conscientious, zealous" appearances aside "he had not yet found that peace of God which passeth all understanding."
Sorry to have occupied your time with what now appears to me more silliness even than it did at the start. But now that its been written, I will let it stand - after all, you've finished reading it already, anyway.
[I forgive you, father, before you die, in case it's tonight; I forgive you, and wanted you to know, even if I couldn't find the gumption, after 40 years, to locate your number and give you a call and tell you that in person, I do.]
[Retro 070508; Does anyone remember the song about a phone call that had as one of its hook lines, a telephone number, 867-5309? Note the last four digits of this entry's number...]