Consumer Report

When I was a girl walking home from school with friends, we liked to stop in the one local drugstore, sit at the counter, and order a soda pop. We hurried to be the first ones there because there was a sign in the window that read, “ Only four kids at the counter at a time.”  We never questioned it.  Mr. Moore, who was the pharmacist, and Mrs. Moore who was my Sunday school teacher, owned the store.  They could make whatever rules they chose. 
 
Our town was so small it didn’t have a bakery  There was one in a  nearby town. The owners baked everything for everyone.  I doubt that the concept of LGBTQ could possibly have been explained to them, nor would it have mattered anyway. 
 
Of course, things are very different today.  Thank goodness.  Nevertheless, it seems to me that, right or wrong, business owners might be within their rights to put up signs that read, “We have the right to refuse service to anyone.”  And I have the right not to do business with them if I am offended by their choice.
 
A new “craft” store is  opening in our town. I once happened by another branch of that store in a nearby town.  It looked like a very nice store from the attractive windows; however, I noticed a prominent sign in one of those windows.  “In order to allow our employees and customers more time for worship and family, we are closed on Sundays.
Of course, when I got home, I Googled that company.  It seems they offer medical benefits to their employees, but they are selective about the prescriptions they include in their coverage.  Specifically, their coverage excludes contraceptive pills and devices.
 
That gave me pause. In fact, it offended me on several levels. 
 
 Do they only hire people who have families and whose holy day is Sunday?  Do they think they can limit sexual activity by not preventing STD’s and unwanted pregnancy? 
 
 It is actually their business and it’s none of my business;  nevertheless, I will take my business elsewhere.

Pentimento

Pentimento: the presence or emergence of earlier images, forms, or strokes that have been changed and painted over.

Like most people, I learned the literal meaning of pentimento in an art history class.  It actually comes from the same Latin root as the English word “repent.”  Sort of like a do- over on canvas or paper.  Sometimes to conserve canvas or just use it over. Or because the artist’s idea morphed.  He obscured, but not completely, his first idea.

Someone was talking about this on one of the Sunday morning talk shows as a thought for the new year.  Not the literal meaning.  The metaphorical one.

It’s a pretty elementary-school metaphor, so it resonated with me.

Our lives start out as a clean sheet of paper or a clean canvas.  Before we are old enough to get a plan, stuff gets laid down on it.  Perhaps indelibly.  We may be able to partially erase this stuff or draw over it, but traces of it remain visible.

Once we get a plan, we become more intentional with the marks we make and the medium we choose. We lay down new stuff again and again.

The word “repent” doesn’t particularly suit me.  It connotes regret, errors, wrong turns. I contend that each new layer makes the picture richer, deeper, more meaningful. Better

You can wish you had done something differently, but there’s no point in beating yourself up over it.  Build on it with a different color or texture.  Buy a new box of crayons.  Metaphorically speaking.