Limbo, Part 2

Cedar Springs, Michigan

Sunday, March 7, 2010

The word "limbo" comes from the Latin limbus, meaning the edge or boundary. There are several ideas about limbo in post-biblical, primarily Roman Catholic, Christian theology. In its broadest religious sense, "limbo" refers to a place, thought by some to be at the edge of hell, where people who aren't bad but aren't saved either--like Old Testament patriarchs, virtuous pagans, and unbaptized infants--must dwell. It's not a place of punishment, but it isn't heaven either. Just a spot where people don't get to see God, either for eternity or until they are released. I picture it as a benign but chaotic place, like the stage of one of those 50s game shows--Beat the Clock, maybe--where the contestants are fussy, superannuated dudes like Abraham and Moses, surrounded by jillions of newborn babies. Without Pampers. Oy.

Limbo shouldn't be confused with Limbaugh, which really is part of hell--a nasty, self-righteous, unremitting onslaught of frustrated lies and hatred that has to emanate from deep in the realm of the damned. Limbaugh embodies all seven of the Deadly Sins at once, which is a pretty good trick, and could only be achieved with special assistance from the Archfiend himself.

I heard from T.A.T. Automotive in Hempstead, Texas, where they've finally begun to work on the motor home. They should be finishing up on Monday. According to Brittany, who speaks for the owner Tommy, it needs a new master cylinder and two rear something-or-others. That's brakewise. As for the rough running of the engine, Brittany tells me Tommy solved that one by switching the spark plug wires, which I managed to cross so that the cylinders weren't firing in the right order. Oh well. It's one of those good news/bad news deals. The bad news of course is that I got the wires crossed, and Tommy is charging me for an hour or so of his expensive time to fix my mistake. The good news is that the tuneup I did seemed to do some good.

As long as I'm home I'm going to stay another week and head back next Monday, March 15. By then I should be all stocked up on doing nothing. The far niente should be reaching the end of its dolce.

For now the goal remains far off--as distant as heaven is to those denizens of limbo.