Spirit and Stone and a Great Lake Nearby

SPIRIT AND STONE & A GREAT LAKE NEARBY Her father was a difficult contradiction, annoyingly similar to a certain type of teacher, minister or priest, to a certain type of imam, rabbi or occasional poet, a confounding combination of spirit and stone, a faith in the unseen somehow beautifully draped over a granite demeanor, almost comforting and loving, sometimes righteous and wise, a bit menacing in mixed company, irritatingly addicted to spiritual confrontation, to breaking fragile things, causing collateral damage when ministering to students and to uncertain souls He crashed through his family and his wary community like hot Latin jazz on a hot Saturday night, driving and polyrhythmic on Afro percussion irresistibly melodic, but demanding and loud like a prayer of desperation offered one time too many to an inattentive god! And she was his daughter! She was restless and young and about to break out, her wicked emotions like the whipped whitecap waves and the cold northwest winds of the Great Lake nearby, she was dangerous, dynamic and deep in the middle, icy and rocky at the forested edge, but sunlight and diamonds on the right summer day Always in turmoil, she didn’t understand that she was just like her dad, didn’t understand why they couldn’t just talk, spend more time with each other, maybe find common ground, get their attitudes in synch, perhaps break things together!