El nuevo acordeón

Yes, I bought an accordion. I replaced the Hohner with a Gabbanelli. I had wanted to have both someday, but it wasn’t meant to be. I’m not sure if “meant to be” is quite the right way to look at it, though. Maybe I don’t like it because it’s passive and mundane, whereas the pursuit of meaning is active. Are you the type of person who wants to find meaning in everything, like I am? There is meaning in the most mundane; I know there is, but it might not be graspable.

This is one of the biggest draws of the Catholic faith. Things mean things to Catholics. Little things, big things. They matter. This could be translated as nitpicking or excessive rule enforcement, and it frequently is translated that way. However, now that I’m in a position of upholding some of those rules, I’ve come to value and appreciate them. By “upholding rules,” I mean that I’m involved in record keeping and acting as the office delegate, ensuring that frontend protocol in matters such as baptism is kept. For example, I’m a witness to potential godparents signing affidavits attesting to their living godly lives. This is important. It is not to be taken lightly. We are a very lackadaisical culture; we value little. But “it will all be alright” shouldn’t happen when adults are tasked with the faith formation of children in their care. Hence, there is a religious notary process, and baptism certificates act as legal documents.

Speaking of lackadaisical legal dealings, we discovered today that due to sloppiness on the part of a notary republic months ago, we couldn’t be issued the title to our car. Someone should have caught this error long before we purchased the vehicle, and it didn’t happen. Sometimes, you have to sweat over the things that seem small because they are often not. In this case, the notary had crossed out a date and written a new one without initialing it, thereby rendering the power of attorney statement invalid.

While I can’t say what the meaning of specific events in my life is, at least not regarding all of them, I do know that God works all things together for good for those who love him and are called to his purpose. Purpose and meaning are conjoined twins. And for some reason I now have a new instrument. I have to tell you a little about that. The Gabbanelli company is a family-run business, and in some ways, being small means they are extremely lackadaisical (that is the word of the day). For example, although they have a secure online store, they want their customers to send photocopy images of their credit cards and IDs (yes, at the same time with a form that has the security code on it, too!) to them through insecure emails, after they’ve already charged the customers’ cards. They won’t ship the product unless customers are willing to compromise their identities. Hence, we sent them a wire transfer. They don’t take online security seriously.

On the other hand, they take their products seriously, sending a signed certificate with each instrument, stating that it is an official Gabbanelli. The instruments are high quality and unique in design; they don’t want imposters selling cheap knockoffs. For that reason, they also have one single store in Houston, TX. There are no other entities licensed to sell their products.

The oddities of humans and what they are careless about never ceases to surprise me. Whether it’s becoming a godparent or incorrectly issuing legal documents, such as notarized power of attorney statements, they will let it slide. And then they will proceed to dig in their heels at someone who uses the wrong tone of voice or commits a social crime like a malapropism. Well, thankfully, most things we sweat over do indeed work out in the end. Most do. Even malapropisms have an absurd sense of working out their intended meanings.

This musing over meaning was brought to you by my new accordion! I find the accordion meaningful, despite its status as a mere object. It makes beautiful music, and the instrument itself is a work of art. Beauty is inherently meaningful. The life events surrounding it…huh, who can say?