Column Unfinished

Add my name to the list of fellow bloggers and Masons who are saddened by the untimely death of WB Theron Dunn, author of Beacon of Masonic Light, and prolific contributor to a number of other web forums, message boards, and online publications. Add my name as well to the list of those who occasionally disagreed with his perspectives, but managed to do so in a fraternal manner. Our disagreements never prevented Brother Theron from emailing some joke, a Masonic inspiration, or a funny video. I'd like to think that Bro. Theron believes - believed - as I do: that our agreements are far more important than our disagreements, and that our appreciation for the fraternity is the basis for our mutual respect. May the Great Architect of the Universe grant some peace of mind to his grieving family and friends.

I was thinking, understandably, of Bro. Dunn's death in the context of the dramas of our own fraternity. The Hiramic legends in the 3rd degree deal with the tragedy of death. But what is it that makes death a tragedy? reflecting upon this question, I thought about the death of my grandmother a few months ago. I wrote

"She was 95 years old. She died peacefully in her sleep, in a warm room surrounded by trashy romance novels, jigsaw puzzles, and loving family members. We should all be so fortunate."

Maybe our connotation of "tragedy" is the concept of "unfinished business." While there are certainly some people who are still vital and active in their mid-nineties, my grandmother certainly fit the definition one thinks of when hearing the phrase "lived a full life." She was a nurse during WWII, she raised 4 children, and then had an active social life. She lived to see grand-children, and even great-grand-children. She'd never been sky-diving or hiking in the Himalayas, but she didn't seem to have any regrets.

Our unrealized potential, the things that we will never have the chance to do boggles the mind. I may be reacting to Bro. Theron's death out of a certain sympathy, as he and I were of a similar age; perhaps I'm saddened because I realize that I, myself, will probably not be able to accomplish many of the things that I've dreamed of. And perhaps this is why the death of a child or young adult affects us so deeply; the unrealized potential in all of us is tragic, but the younger one's life, the more potential we see. We say that we are saddened by the loss of life, but maybe what we are really saddened by is the loss of potential realization - the songs that will never be written, the stories that will never be told, and the work that will never be completed.

I have always thought about the tale of Hiram Abiff as some kind of Death allegory, but now I'm seeing it as a metaphor that points out the unfortunate - and inevitable - inability of all of us to fulfill our dreams. This doesn't necessarily mean that we should always feel sad, though. We all work on our own spiritual buildings, and none of them will ever be complete. But ultimately we will all need to lay down our tools, if indeed, those tools do not simply fall from our own nerveless grasp. Maybe the story of Hiram should remind us that it's not the completion of the building that is important, but the fact that we've started it at all.

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Revenge of When Bloggers Collide

"[. . .] whereby Masonry becomes the Center of Union, and the means of conciliating true Friendship among Persons, that must have remained at a perpetual distance."

There is supposedly an old Chinese saying (are there ever any new Chinese sayings?) that runs something like: "If you save somebody's life, you are responsible for them forever." I left my friend 3M of Northeastern Corner in the fraternal care of Bros. Eric, Kevin and Kyle some concerned brothers of Friendship Lodge who wish to remain anonymous, on the night before the Grand Lodge Annual Communication. While his life was not in danger, his reputation certainly skated on some thin ice as a result of several incidents involving car batteries, kitchen utensils, a visiting dwarf-tossing team, and a large luggage rack. I was informed of this the next morning by Bro. Kyle, who, with the aid of a cattle prod and the aforementioned luggage cart, was able to minister to the needs of our brother who was led astray. For valor above and beyond all reasonable expectations, not to mention courage in the face of violations of several safety reglations, Bro. Kyle not only wins the Mason of the Month award, but now would seem to be responsible for 3M's reputation for quite some time to come.

Proving that he did not learn to leave well enough alone, 3M invited us halfway across the state, down to St. John's No. 6 in New Jersey Norwalk on Thursday, May 1st, where he would be sitting in the East for the first time to confer an EA degree. So, Thursday night saw Bros. Kyle, Eric and Kevin the anonymous brothers barreling down the Merritt Parkway in their officer's tuxedos, as Kevin and Kyle had offered to sit in as Stewards. Yours truly followed up about 20 minutes later, having come right from work. The photo of 3M and I shows that while I was smart enough to remember to bring my tuxedo with me, I had forgotten the black bow tie, so I wore a festive blue one that I'd had in my pocket. I had also forgotten my apron case, which my traveling brothers graciously picked up for me.

More embarrassingly, though, was that I had forgotten to bring a white shirt. I probably could have gotten away with wearing the grey work shirt if I'd remembered the black bow tie. Fortunately, it's not as if I have an important position where people would notice that kind of thing about me.

3M assumed the East with only a few minor newbie fluffs, and my counterpart in District 1, VW Bro. Lem and I commented several times on how well he was doing. Most of the other chairs were filled by PMs of St. John's, and the several younger officers that filled in the Junior officers chairs did admirable work. They initiated three candidates, all younger men (which, from my perspective, is anyone under 45). 3M graciously allowed Bro. Kyle to deliver the long-form apron presentation lecture, and Bros. Eric and Kevin to perform the first section lecture in the Friendship Lodge "walk around" style. Afterwards, we were treated to a rarely seen second section lecture by WB Paul Chapin from Federal 17. I was able to sit on the sidelines and simply observe, which is a rare occurrence for me lately. It also assured 3M that I would not spoil his EA degree by accidentally delivering something from an MM or FC degree.

Owing to the long drive ahead, we didn't hang around long after the meeting . . . much. A few cold refreshments and cigars did manage to make the rounds, though, and a few of us had a great time ribbing - and congratulating - 3M as we developed an impromptu tailgate party.

More to the point, though, is this: A month ago, except for me, nobody in Friendship Lodge knew 3M. A month later, he now has several friends and acquaintances - some of whom were willing to give up a night in which they could have been doing almost anything else, to drive halfway across the state just to cheer him on. As I walked to my car, I watched half a dozen younger officers and new Masons chatting away, trading stories and jokes, and making promises to get together again soon.

And that is one of the beautiful things about our fraternity: the ability to remove that "perpetual distance" which separates men.

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Animal House Lodge

It has been at least a dozen years since Friendship Lodge hosted its own "Lodge at Table," and even though the members are regular visitors (and helpers!) at other functions, WM Jim Sinclair decided that this was going to be the year that we would have our own.

WM Jim wanted to have some kind of theme to the dinner. Being proud of his Italian ancestry, he wanted to make that part of the theme, but having Italian food? Gosh, don't Masons already eat enough macaroni and cheese or ziti with sauce? The answer soon became obvious: A Roman theme! And what better to reinforce the theme idea than to ask guests to dress for dinner... in togas ?

So the past week found a dozen different Masons wrestling with old bedsheets and bits of fabric, while the esteemed WB Richie took care of the menu. Ceasar probably didn't eat pasta, but it's quite possible that he ate freshly prepared vegetables, eggs, olives, chicken, lamb, pork, cheese and fruit. Oh, and in veritas, he would have had vino as well.

Roman Table Lodge Click to see the online photo album

When I got there, the food was cooked, and WB Richie was preparing the dishes in his typical artistic fashion. I found the rest of the officers upstairs trying to get dressed, assisted by several wives and girlfriends who had shown up earlier to help in the kitchen. I'm happy to see that in some ways Friendship is becoming a nice hang-out spot for the brothers, and glad that their partners feel at home when they come down.

I noticed that it seemed to take much longer to dress the officers in sheets than it does to dress them in tuxedos. More ironic, too, because there is a hell of a lot less material in a sheet. On the other hand, most of the brethren managed to be fairly well wrapped. Interestingly, both WB Jim and I dressed alike, the both of us wearing tunics with purple togas draped around it. I didn't actually use a sheet, my outfit was the result of a half hour at the local fabric store and another few minutes of my wife working up a few stitches on her sewing machine. I was amazed at the number of "toga party" hits I found when web searching, and was able to find quite a few tips on wearing togas - almost none of which worked perfectly.

And let me tell you - it's dang near impossible to drive in one of those things.

Anyway, visiting brothers from Sequin-Level Lodge showed up to join the festivities, so we closed the doors and opened the lodge for the first of what we hope are many more Table Lodge functions.

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When Bloggers Collide

It was really only five years ago that I was the new guy, the young Mason attending Grand Lodge - or more correctly, the reunion and hospitality suites the night before Grand Lodge session. I'd taken the afternoon off from work and we'd spent the time prepping tons of food and drink for the wandering brothers. Several of the older, more experienced brothers took me around to visit some of the other rooms and introduce me to the brothers from other districts; I met a lot of nice people during the first year, and remembered most of them over the next several years. Grand Lodge is sometimes like the get-togethers you have at weddings and funerals: it's the one time a year you might have to catch up on news and gossip. And I don't know when it happened, but I'm no longer a new Mason. Last night Sunday night, it was my turn to be the older guy and take one of the new brothers around, and to explain how and why things work.

Yesterday Sunday evening, while most of the lodge parties were just getting underway, I met up with several other of the Connecticut Freemason bloggers. This was the end result of six months of emails and phone calls which began "Hey, we should all get together for dinner some night and talk about blogging." After half a dozen missed opportunities, we managed to agree to meet the night before GL at the restaurant in the hotel. Fueled by the vapors of distilled grain, I had several hours of conversation with 3M of Northeastern Corner, the esteemed Traveling Man of Movable Jewel, and the Very Worshipful Charles Tirrell of Masonic Renaissance. We were missing MF (Metaphysical Freemason), whose father-in-law had to be taken to the hospital that morning. The pressures of work, family, geography, and of course our Masonly duties made scheduling one night a much more difficult task than you would have thought.

I've spent a little bit of time in and after meetings with both VW Brother Charles and with MJ, but this was the first time we'd been able to hang out without any particular agenda. And none of us have been able to spend much time with 3M, mainly because his district is down in New York (well, it seems that way anyhow). A pleasant and thoughtful young man, 3M was only raised a couple of years ago, making him the newbie. Nobody else from his lodge was able to make the trip up.

VW Charles brought up some officers from his own lodge, also younger Masons, and we spent a pleasant couple of hours having drinks and sandwiches, and just getting to know a little about each other. All of us being Connecticut Masons, we had the opportunity to discuss not just blogging and internet Masonry, but also topics concerning local, district and state events. Table conversation ranged from praising (and poking) other well-known bloggers and some of the recent topics, internet Masonry and how it can be better utilized to the benefit of the Craft (we're in favor of more of it), District Blue Lodge Council meetings (some people find them to be a waste of time), the state of ritual (to some degree), and some of the items up for discussion at Grand Lodge (oh yeah, there's a session).

After a dinner of sandwiches and frits (the French word for "fries," I was informed), we retired upstairs to VW Charles' room, where 3M treated us to some finely crafted hand-rolled cigars, which we enjoyed out on the balcony - smoking being prohibited in the hotel rooms. While enjoying the aroma, not to mention the invigorating New England air, we continued our discussions. The non-blogging junior officers lost interest, and retired to the warmth of the room, where they kept themselves occupied with a Wii, iPods, laptops, and various other electronic gear.

As Charles mentioned in his own post on this subject, we found it surprising that with Connecticut being such a small state, the four of us had managed to develop notably differing ideas and opinions about Freemasonry. This wasn't so obvious when discussing our ideas for how to improve the quality of meetings and Masonic education, but was more noticeable when we discussed our positions on those states which have yet to fully recognize the Prince Hall jurisdictions, and how our UGLE-related fraternity intersects with orders that have long since split off: La Droit Humain, Grand Orientes, and Co-Masonry. Fortunately, real Masons manage to subdue their passions when discussing such potentially divisive subjects, and we soon veered off those topics to discuss the proposed legislation and some of the rumors that had been making the rounds. We also traded stories about some of the lodges that we've seen that are doing it wrong (and some that are doing it right), and kicked around some of our own ideas for what could make for better lodges.

Charles is a very progressive-minded brother who has a number of great ideas for lodges on his own site, including utilizing Pay Pal or similar services to collect dues money. We also thought that the dreaded dues increases would hurt less if we allowed the members to pay in monthly or quarterly installments; we noted that most dues are, um, due right around the holidays - just when people are already ticked about paying bills. Perhaps a subscription service might be a better way to go for some of the brethren. We also discussed having some of the brothers "pay" in service, rather than in coinage; some brothers could agree to a certain number of hours doing maintenance, cleaning, repairs, etc., in exchange for some abatement on dues. We also - and I hope he doesn't mind my mentioning it here - tossed around the idea of recording video interviews with notable brothers; not necessarily the oldest or famous, but brothers with an interesting perspective on the fraternity. Any Connecticut brothers with video editing experience who are interested in lending some help might want to contact VW Bro Charles.

Eventually we had to go home - at least, some of us did. TM wandered off to his car, and I took 3M for a tour around the hotel to meet the members of Friendship Lodge. A couple of brothers were at the room, and others appeared as we were having a drink. I left 3M in the fraternal care of our SW Eric, who promised to look after him, and I left for home around midnight. Since 3M was staying overnight, I was reasonably certain that he wouldn't get into much trouble. I later found that natural supposition to be erroneous, but that's a topic for another article.

The four of us got together out of curiosity - indeed, we've been trying to find some way to get together for months, but just haven't been able to get our schedules together. When we decided to meet, it was because we thought that we had two things in common: Freemasonry, and a desire to share our experiences and perspectives via this medium. There are five of us who blog about the Craft, not counting the few people who mention Freemasonry on their MySpace and LiveJournal pages. While it doesn't sound like very many, it does, in fact, make up a significant portion of the Craft-bloggers extant on the internet; more impressive when you consider the size of our state. In an age in which internet communication is becoming more utilized by new and potential members, I'm glad that such a great group of brothers has been able to spread some light through this new medium, and I'm sure that all of us look forward to doing this in the future.

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The District FC Degree

Well, we pulled it off.

On Saturday, March 29, a dozen and half officers from the eight different lodges of District 5 managed to put together a very nice FC degree in the auditorium of the Masonic Health Care Center in Wallingford.

Anyone who has ever seen the bedlam which accompanies a normal degree rehearsal can only imagine what our single rehearsal was like the week before the degree. Well, that's not fair - since half the people didn't show up, the confusion in the temple wasn't anything like it could have been, I'm sure.

On Saturday morning, several of the brothers met at Friendship and piled the officer's stations, jewels, aprons, and the movable set of stairs into RWB Gary Arseneau's and Senior Steward Kyle Charette's pickup trucks. WB Ted Hasty, the poor guy who coordinated this event was already at the auditorium, moving the chairs and rearranging the room. By 10:45 am, everything was in position.

Which was perfect timing for my arrival at 10:55.

Apparently, WB Ted was a bit antsy about the event, and got there very early just to make sure that things were going to work out. He's obviously my Bizarro world twin: he shows up as early as I tend to show up late. Oh, and I think that Ted has a reaction to the red kryptonite.

After the room was set up we were treated to lunch in the MHA cafeteria. I declined, owing to a traumatic lunchroom incident in my childhood involving spaghetti, soy meatloaf, and canned wildebeest - the details of which are best left to the imagination. But shortly afterwards, several of us took a small tour of the Ashlar Village facility, just up the hill from the hospital. Ashlar Village is a small community having a mixture of independent and assisted living buildings. We took a look into the newly remodeled main building. "Newly remodeled" is perhaps not the best term, and for the last several years it seems to be under a new plan called "constant remodeling." I think that the facility changes every month. One of the highlights, though, was the small lodge room that has been built on one of the basement areas. It hasn't been used for any official purpose, however as you can see from the pictures it's had some unofficial uses.

By the time we got back, other people started showing up: officers from other lodges, several interested onlookers, and eventually, a few brothers from the hospital itself. Personally, I was a little disappointed at the turnout - only eight brothers from the hospital and nearby Ashlar Village ended up visiting. But that disappointment was mitigated by learning that one brother had not been to a lodge in over 40 years, and another had been hoping to see a degree for several years, but had no way to travel. Four of our guests were in wheelchairs, one had a walker, and another had a cane. One brother happened to pass by me heading down the hall and called out "What part are you doing, sonny?" I slowed down to talk to him and keep him company on the walk down. After assuring him that I really did not need to borrow his ritual book (why do some of the old timers read the books while following the degree? Self-appointed quality control inspectors?) he told me not to walk with him because he was shuffling along rather slowly and he didn't want to hold me up. "I'm pretty sure I'll make it by one-thirty!" he called after me as he inched along the hallway.

Click here to see the rest of the photos

The degree itself was a pleasant affair, made interesting because we had one candidate from Sequin-Level and one from Unity. Being a Fellowcraft degree, Friendship brought along their stairs. Yes, we have a set of spiral stairs that appear to have been built in the 50s; they disassemble for storage, so we were able to fit them into the back of a pickup and haul them down. Some of the visitors who had never been to Friendship spent some time testing them for strength; but we've never had a problem. I fear, however, that we'll need to make some minor repairs, simply because age and knocking around in a closet every few months is taking it's toll on them.

The officers performed admirably and the candidates had a very nice degree, made even more memorable by the fact that parts were done by officers from eight different lodges. Even the "Staircase Lecture" was broken up into several parts to allow the lodges to take a more active role.

On the way home, most of us wondered why we didn't do this kind of thing every year. By the time several of us had driven back to Friendship to help unload the furniture, we'd resolved to have another District degree for the residents of the hospital for next year.

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5th District to present FC Degree at Masonic Hospital

For those 19 readers that I have in Connecticut, there will be a Fellowcraft Degree at the Masonic Hospital in Wallingford on Saturday, March 29 at 1:00 pm in the auditorium.

The purpose of the degree will be to allow Masonicare residents who can not normally get out to attend a degree. The various lodges from the 5th District will have different officers take the chairs, and we expect that several candidates from the 5th District will be passed.

We drew names positions out of a hat at a recent Blue Lodge Council (our periodic District meetings), and came up with this mix of positions:

Worshipful Master: Valley Lodge# 36
Senior Warden: Sequin-Level #140
Junior Warden: Unity #148
Senior Deacon: Friendship #33
Junior Deacon: Frederick-Franklin #14
Senior Steward: Silas Deane #147
Junior Steward: Village #29
Chaplain: Evening Star #101
Charge: That egotistical District Lecturer.

Several of the lectures are going to be split up amongst various other officers in order to have a good representation of the lodges in the 5th District. The degree is being coordinated by the already overworked Ted Hasty, the Associate Grand Marshal for the northern part of our district. Anyone who remembers that all lodges have their own little quirks and "traditions" can well imagine the amount of aspirin that WB Ted is going to need in order to coordinate (and accommodate) eight separate lodges.

Some of us will be showing up at the hospital at 10:00 am in order to transform the auditorium into something that resembles a lodge room. Hope to see you there!

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This article has no meaning

The last few weeks have been a bit of a blur because of all the family visiting, people to transport to and from airports, phone calls, and the assorted arrangements that one makes when a family member dies.

I visited my grandmother at the hospice section of the hospital where she had been checked in. She was tired, but alert; we joked about the advances in hospital technology since she had been a nurse in the 1940s. She offered me a cookie, and after an hour or so decided that she wanted to take a nap. Less than a week later she was moved to a nursing home. My wife and I drove out to visit, but she was sleeping. I stayed away for the next few days, having come down with one of those flus that's been making the rounds. Three days later, she passed away.

She was 95 years old. She died peacefully in her sleep, in a warm room surrounded by trashy romance novels, jigsaw puzzles, and loving family members. We should all be so fortunate.

But that's not what I'm writing about.

The funeral was almost a week later. In any group of people in which I am present, you'd come out pretty well if you had bet on me to be the one person who wasn't following the directions. I pulled into the visitor's parking at the funeral home, which means that I never signed in for the automobile procession, had my name logged in, etc. As it happens, this allowed me to be the first to leave the funeral home and head for the church, several blocks away. I took a turn, drove halfway down the block and something out of the corner of my eye made me slam on the brakes.

If you were the soccer mom in the minivan behind me, I'm really sorry about that.

I had happened to catch sight of the familiar square and compasses on a sign as I drove down the street; I was surprised because I hadn't known that there was a lodge in this town. Just a few weeks earlier I had been at a lodge in the next town, in a huge, old building. This lodge, just across the river, was a complete contrast. A small, unassuming building in a residential neighborhood, with the S&C prominently displayed. I'll have to stop in sometime.

But that's not what I'm writing about, either.

I pulled into a side parking lot of the church, and waited in the cold for the hearse to show up. After the family had gathered, we opened the back of the car and brought the casket out to trolley and wheeled it through the outer doors of the church and waited while the other family members filed past the casket and into the pews. We then wheeled the casket up toward the sanctuary.

It has been some years since I've been to a Roman Catholic service, probably since before I joined the fraternity. The church was done in the architecture more common after the 1960s - open and airy, almost giving the impression that the services were taking place outdoors. But it was the imagery on the crucifix - an ornate cross carried by one of the assistants - that caught my eye.

The crucifixes that I remember seeing when I was younger tended to be thin strips of wood, supporting a small sculpture of the crucified Jesus. This version was made of wide sections, with Jesus painted in the typical crucified manner: arms outstretched, head hanging down, blood on his side.

But that's not what caught my eye. I had never seen - or at least, had never noticed - imagery around a crucifix. This one had at the bottom (under the picture of the cross itself) a skull atop what appeared to be a small pile of bones. While Connecticut Masonry does not use the skull and coffin in the ritual, it's certainly familiar to any Mason who has seen pictures from other jurisdictions.

Looking up, I saw on the left side of the cross-piece a stylized picture of a crescent moon. This was matched on the opposite side by a stylized picture of the sun, complete with a number of radiant streamers. Both of these pictures would have been immediately recognizable to any Mason in Connecticut who has ever carried a Deacon's staff. The likeness was unmistakable.

But there's more.

At the very top of the cross was a large equilateral triangle. Inside the triangle was a dove, poised head downward. The wings, however, were partially outstretched and bisected the upper sides of the triangle, passing, or perhaps, breaking through the sides. The wings angled upward in such a way that if you had drawn a line from wingtip to the head and up to the other wingtip, you would have an angle approximating 90º.

Just to make sure I wasn't imagining things, at some point in the service I leaned over to my 12 year old daughter. "Check out the symbols around the cross by the casket," I whispered.

It took her about three seconds. "That's a Mason thing, isn't it?" she whispered back.

Okay, so it wasn't just my imagination - the setup had vaguely Masonic undertones.

As I listened to the priest describe the significance of the white shroud, the flowers, and the various other items around the area, my mind drifted off to wonder how our two organizations managed to develop the symbols that they did, and why we had similar - though not necessarily identical - explanations for them. It led me to wonder if the semiotics - the underlying symbology itself - wasn't based on some deeper or older meanings, meanings of which we may be currently unaware. Or perhaps, meaninngs which have passed the threshold of awareness because they are such a basic part of our cultural memes.

But that's not really what I'm writing about.

Driving from the church to the cemetery, we passed a well-known local landmark; a statue of one of our Revolutionary War heroes mounted on a horse with one foot raised. I reflected on the folklore which suggests that one foot raised means that the subject was wounded in battle, while two legs off the ground meant that he was killed in battle.

The service at the cemetery was very brief, perhaps owing to the raw, damp weather and the forecast of snow. Several of the family members tossed rose petals into the grave.

My sister rode with me on the way back home, and we passed another well-known local statue of a famous area resident who had lived until a ripe, old age in a nearby city. He was on a horse with both legs off the ground.

But that's not what I'm writing about.

My sister stayed with us overnight in order to better catch an early flight out. Although we had eaten in the afternoon, we decided to have a little snack. She put some bread into our new Italian-designed toaster-broiler-convection oven. She spent some minutes fumbling with the buttons, until I showed her the combination that would work: the one that looked like a stylized sliced section of a loaf and the other one that had wavy lines, presumably to represent heat. Very easy to follow, if you know what you're looking for.

Sis doesn't get out to Connecticut all that often, so we spent some time chatting, trying to catch up with each other's lives. She's less active with her church than she used to be, but has been spending a lot of time building up her side business as a photographer. I, of course, have been working a lot and when I'm not with my family, I'm usually doing something in my capacity as the District Grand Lecturer, which I explained was the guy in the area that tried to help the lodges in my area maintain the integrity of our ancient ceremonies that we have performed since time immemorial. I went on to explain that each ceremony has specific significance to it and teaches certain lessons in morality and natural philosophy. I also explained that while most states are similar in ritual, other countries have ceremonies and forms that are virtually unrecognizable to us - although, of course, we're all still brothers... and in some cases, even sisters.

At that point I had to stop explaining so we could get some pizza.

But that's not what I'm trying to write about.

The next day I dropped her off at the airport. On the way, I noticed the sign for the local Machinists and Aerospace Workers Union. There's something familiar about it, isn't there?

Anyway, I continued on my way to work, put in a full day, and then headed down to lodge right from the office. Just as I was pulling into the parking lot, a light blinked on in the dashboard of my new truck. I'd never seen this light before, and had no idea what it meant. I parked the car and opened up the manual in the glove box to see if I could figure out what it was, but I couldn't find it.

I hope it wasn't anything important.

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