Las Vegas II

Did you know that right in the middle of this desert city is a swamp? There is. It's a wetland preserved as a park by the County. Two of our folks from St. Matthew's work there.

The swamp actually has water and watery plants. There are roadrunners, hawks, and all sorts of little swamp critters about. It isn't the Okefenoke or the Everglades but it is a bona fide swamp. And there are ducks, little brown ducks indigenous to Nevada.

However, awhile back an eco-terrorist or at least a vandal released four domestic white ducks into the swamp. That was uncool so the swamp authorities rounded them up -- that is they rounded up three of them. The fourth was too smart, too fast, or too something. They could not catch him.

For months, he eluded the swamp police. But there were occasional sightings, and more frequent quackings, to let us know he was still there. We called him Osama bin Duck. I heard a rumor the duck was eventually apprhended. He's probably in Git-mo by now.

Achy Breaky Heart And The Kingdom Of God

Last Sunday we said goodbye to Fr. Ed Lovelady who is retiring from All Saints, Las Vegas. It was a fantastic service. It was tri-lingual and multicultural. A packed house. Great worship!!!

Then came the party. One of my best friends, a Georgian of the gay persuasion, was visiting. At one point, I saw him line dancing, holding hands with Rose (Fr. Jun's mother in law) a Filippina from the Nothern Mountains. Other dancers included Fr. Arsi and Benadette, Fillipionos of the South -- different language, ethnicity, and piety. More of the dancers were Latino. And the music was: Billy Ray Cyrus -- Achy Breaky Heart.

As I watched this wonder, even before I watched Fr. Ed whaling a pinata and scads of children scambling after the candy he broke loose, I thought to myself, "Sometimes the Church works. Sometimes the Church really is a Kigngdom event right here and now."

The Las Vegas Valley Isn't What You Think

There is a lot more to life in the Vegas Valley than most people know. I was driving from Albertsons to our house in Henderson this week when a coyote trotted in front of my car, did a 180, and trotted back. It reminded me of Mark Twain's classic account of the deceptive gate of the Nevada coyote, who never seems to quite run -- and yet coyotes, with their casual stiff legged amblulation, always maitain -- not increase, just maintain -- their distance from pursuers, until the pursuers lie prostrate in the dust, their tongues hanging out. Is this how Coyote became the Native American trickster deity.

Did any of you who do not live in Las Vegas know that there is a swamp right smack in the midst of this desert city? In my next post, I will tell you about the elusive duck that haunts our swamp.