We're Moving!

Well, not in a physical sense, and not me and my family.  I merely meant that my weblog has moved to:

http://web.me.com/dougsmith

Please change your bookmarks accordingly and I'll meet you there!

As always, thanks for stopping by!

Apps for Apple(s)

When I was a freshman at the University of Tulsa, the Student Council held a "Dance for Those Who Can't" event to raise money for muscular dystrophy.  If memory serves me correctly, the big-hearted (if somewhat insensitively-named) soiree was styled as an old-time dance marathon and students recruited sponsors who would pledge so much money for every hour the dancers lasted. 

Then, about 10 years ago, I was in Seattle and went to a Mariners game (in the dreaded Kingdome).  One of the scoreboards on the third-base side had a "K's for Kids" counter, sponsored by MicroSoft.  For every strike thrown by a Mariners pitcher, Bill Gates would donate something like $10,000 to a children's charity.  

I mention all this as a roundabout way to elaborate on my post this morning about the iPhone apps.  As far as I can tell, Apple's favorite charity is Apple.  Nothing wrong with that, I suppose (and there's always the possibility of "good things being done in secret"), but they must be raking in the dough.  Good for them. 

I recommended the Bible, Morse Code and Cowbell Plus apps earlier. Coach Jim also encouraged me to get the WeightTrack app (for our diets).  In addition, I have Shopper (for groceries) and iExpenseIt (to keep track of expenses).  All of these are easy to use and have proven to be a help in daily life. 

Two questions: 

(1) What other Apps have you found helpful?

(2) Who knows what the "i" before all the Apple programs stands for?

iTunes Saw Me Coming

I mentioned in an earlier post that I had downloaded "a few" things from iTunes the other night.  Well, I got the bill in the email this morning.  Between the songs and the new Apps for the iPhone . . . somebody tell Mr Jobs that he can order the new cabinets. 

Morse-It, v1.0, Seller: Francis Bonnin $0.99
Bible, v1.1, Seller: LifeChurch.tv Free
Prayer for Home  (Fernando Ortega) $0.99
Coyote (Joni Mitchell) $0.99
Song for Sharon (Joni Mitchell) $0.99
I Go to Extremes (Billy Joel) $0.99

Not Home Yet (Steven Curtis Chapman) $0.99
Fly Me to the Moon (Frank Sinatra) $0.99
Come Fly With Me (Frank Sinatra) $0.99
I've Got You Under My Skin (Frank Sinatra) $0.99
The Lady Is a Tramp (Frank Sinatra) $0.99
The Best Is Yet to Come (Frank Sinatra with Count Basie and His Orchestra) $0.99
Witchcraft (Frank Sinatra) $0.99
That's Life (Frank Sinatra) $0.99
You Can Call Me Al (Paul Simon) $0.99
Graceland (Paul Simon) $0.99
Under African Skies (Paul Simon with Linda Ronstadt) $0.99
Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic (The Police) $0.99
Pavane Pour Une Infante Défunte (Boston Symphony Orchestra) $0.99
Seven Days (Sting) $0.99
Big Lie, Small World (Sting) $0.99
Pie Jesu (Sarah Brightman) $0.99
The Dangling Conversation (Simon and Garfunkel) $0.99
Punky's Dilemma (Simon and Garfunkel) $0.99
April Come She Will (Simon and Garfunkel) $0.99
Me and Julio Down By the School Yard (Paul Simon) $0.99
Kodachrome (Paul Simon) $0.99
The Boxer (Simon and Garfunkel) $0.99
Who's That Man (Toby Keith) $0.99
Cowbell Plus, v1.0, Seller: Frontier Design Group, LLC $1.99
In a Big Country (Big Country) $0.99
(Cross The) Heartland (Pat Metheny Group) $0.99
The Red Plains (Bruce Hornsby) $0.99

Grand Total: $32.68

As for the Apps, let me heartily recommend the Bible (it includes 30-some versions and it's free) and the Morse Code (because you never know when you'll be out in the woods and need your iPhone screen to flash out a message).  And, of course, if you've ever had that nagging thought that life "needs more cowbell", Cowbell Plus is for you.  It also comes with various other sounds, including a tambourine that would make Susan Dey and Davy Jones jump for joy.  You play the instruments by shaking the phone.

For a Friday evening's entertainment, I think it was money well-spent.

Top of the Thirty-First

I realized that I had forgotten to "post" an entry on the 24th - a look back at the famous "Pine Tar Incident" involving George Brett, his bat, Billy Martin, and the Royals-Yankees game on July 24, 1983.  That was 25 years ago, if you can believe it. 

Anyway, scroll down to the posts on the 24th for some detail and a picture of the bat in question. 

Of Peaches and Pavanes

I have so much to be thankful for - more than I could ever possibly put down in writing - so let me just offer two things from this evening:

Porter Peaches:  For those of you outside of Eastern Oklahoma, may I commend to you these slices (no pun intended) of Heaven?  We made our annual trek to Porter a week ago, and bought a few bushels.  They have continued to improve with the passing of time. I have at least one a day. Yesterday for lunch, I had a peach and a homegrown Beefsteak tomato that Jan Honaker so kindly gave me.  The Lord knew what he was doing when He made Summer!

Ravel's Pavane Pour Une Infante Defunte: The other night, my friend Michael Homan was over. We were practicing for Michael to sing (and me to play piano) at a house blessing that our buddy Jim was going to. As we listened to the song on iTunes, one thing led to another and I got in a buyer's mode, purchasing songs I hadn't thought about in years. Michael (who is technically young enough to be my son) surprised me by knowing the lyrics to "Punky's Dilemma" by Simon & Garfunkel. I then learned that he and his best friend growing up were huge S&G fans in Minnesota. So there was more downloading and great rejoicing by all!  But I'm getting off the subject. I also (as I was pressing "Buy Now" for everything from Sting to Frank Sinatra to Toby Keith) thought of Maurice Ravel and, sure enough, found the Boston Symphony Orchestra's recording of the Pavane. In fact, it's playing now. I like this version because it takes 6:19. By contrast, the Chicago Symphony recording lumbers along for 6:48.  Normally, I think the world of the CSO, but the Boston recording is darn-near the perfect tempo.  And the music!  It's like Porter peaches for your ears!  I think it is my favorite piece of music ever. 

Single Digits

You all know I'm a huge fan of James Lileks' daily Bleat.  Yesterday, he had a picture of a new Flintstones-based cereal.  I was taken aback at how scary Dino (the pet dinosaur's) hands were.  And that got me thinking about digits.  

The President's latest approval number stands at 28%.  Wow, that seems low. But hold on.  Congress is at a whopping 9%.  For those still keeping score, that's one-third of the President's.  It's the lowest ever. 

And remind me again . . . who controls Congress?

"We Know Where He Stands"

Bob Tyrrell's latest piece in The American Spectator makes a case for Senator McCain, even as it points out the deficiencies of Senator Obama's resume.  The main point of the article is to elaborate on McCain's integrity - and to contrast his life of public service with Obama's "community service". 

Mr Tyrrell also seeks to assuage some of the fears of those of us on the right:

Ironically, and notwithstanding McCain's waywardness, he is conservatism's best chance to win the White House: for he can attract Reagan Democrats and independents. Many conservatives have been understandably critical of some of the Arizona senator's feints to the Kultursmog, but for the most part he is conservative, a maverick conservative yet one who will be campaigning on a platform shaped by four decades of the modern conservative movement's policy desiderata. Moreover, whereas the Republican backsliders on the Hill have deceived us, McCain has been forthright in his disagreements with us. We know where he stands.

The article also touches on McCain's Naval record and the "richly heritage" of service he inherited from his father and grandfather.  It is a story that should receive more play. 

Mr Tyrrell ends with this suggestion to Senator McCain:

Still, in the months ahead John McCain needs to speak more to his base and reassure its members. Then there is one thing more. John, find a dramatist among the Republican image consultants to present your extraordinary life of service as the heroic narrative that it is. Humility has no place in modern politics.

Ich bin ein Beginner

Senator: You're no Jack Kennedy.

The Pine Tar Incident

Here's a shocker: it was 25 years ago today that George Brett was ejected from the Royals-Yankees game for supposedly putting too much pine tar on his bat.  Well, technically, he was ejected from the game for threatening the umpire to within an inch of his life - he was merely erroneously called out for using too much pine tar. 

It's hard to believe that this all took place a quarter of a century ago. 

If you remember, on July 24, 1983, the Yankees were hosting the Royals and it came to the ninth inning. The Royals were down 4-3 and George came to bat against Goose Gossage. He hit a two-run homer, seeming to put the the Royals up 5-4. As Brett rounded the bases, Yankees manager Billy Martin walked out and complained to the umpire that George's bat had too much pine tar on it.  (Pine tar is a legal substance that helps a batter's grip, but it is not supposed to extend more than 18 inches up the bat - George had 24 inches on his). The bat was produced for inspection, and the Umpire Tim McClelland called George out.  

That's when the fireworks started. Brett charged the field. I still remember the look of his body: as he streaked toward the umpire, every possible square inch was smashed up against the leading plane of his motion. It was like he was a massive, two-dimensional object about to flatten the ump. There was a huge row and George was thrown out of the game. The Yankees appeared to win the game 4-3.  

It turns out that Billy Martin and the Yankees had been noticing George's pine tar usage for some time and were waiting for the opportune moment to protest it. The problem is that the rule does not allow for the batter to be called out, merely that the offensive bat be removed from the game. 

The Royals protested the game and American League President Lee McPhail (a former Yankee executive, by the way) allowed the protest. The teams came back together later in the season to finish the game.  Sly old Billy Martin had one last shot: he now appealed the play and said that the umpires had no way of knowing if the runners had touched all the bases.  

Now, you all know I'm a huge Yankees fan, but here's where I think justice was still done, even with a comic touch. The umpires then produced affidavits stating that the runners had indeed touched all the bases on their way to home. The score stood at 5-4, the Yankees failed to produce any runs in the bottom of the ninth, and the Royals won the game. 

So, 25 years ago today, baseball gained another bit of folklore for the ages.  The bat in question even resides in Cooperstown (thanks to "mattingly23" on Wikipedia for the picture):

This is all a great diversion for the Dog Days of Summer, and it also got me thinking about a couple of current things. Seeings as how I can still love the Yankees even when they were dead wrong about the bat, I think that's how I feel about both Senator McCain and the Presbyterian Church (USA). I already know that I'm going to disagree with a President McCain about 35-40% of the time, but on the fundamental issues, I trust him. 

And the PC(USA)? Boy, are they making some bone-headed calls lately. But I don't think this is the time to jump ship.  For the present, I'm planning on staying within the denomination - at least until they kick me out. But, like Umpire Tim McClelland, they sure are misreading the "Rule Book".

Maxfield Parrish at 9 o'clock

While this post may sound like a World War II fighter pilot's declarative, it's actually a statement about the beauty of the evening.  After dinner at McGill's, I stepped outside and witnessed a beautiful post-sunset blueness on the western horizon. You expect icebergs, even though it's ninety.  If there had been a cornfield, Shoeless Joe Jackson would have stepped out of it. It makes you wonder if, on the evening of that first Pentecost, Peter and his friends encountered just such a sky, and then talked for a while about all the amazing things that happened that day.  

A special wish for my friends Jim and Diane, celebrating 24 years of marriage today!

Top of the Third

I will always obey your law,
for ever and ever.
I will walk about in freedom,
for I have sought out your precepts.
I will speak of your statutes before kings
and will not be put to shame
- Psalm 119:44-46

Top of the Twelfth

The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice.
Yes, and I will continue to rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and God's provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance.

- Philippians 1:18-19

The Shape of the Union

To all my fellow cartographers:

I love maps. I can sit and look at them for hours. I had a AAA membership for years just so I could pick up a map on a whim.

If you suffer from this disorder like me, you know that it's more than just the quest for knowledge or information about a particular region. The maps themselves take on an almost living quality. The interplay of the boundaries, the movement of the rivers and roads - they set up a rhythm and resonance of their own.

And, just in time for Fathers' Day, here comes the book How the States Got their Shapes by Mark Stein. Please note the spelling: this is not the Mark Steyn I often reference, but this fellow is equally well-versed in his field. David Mark's review of Mr Stein's book begins:

While Mark Stein's University of Wisconsin classmates were protesting the Vietnam War, he had a different set of concerns: How come Michigan has that whole separate section that's actually attached to Wisconsin? Why does Delaware
exist and why isn't it just part of Maryland?

If, like me, you've ever wondered about such matters (and had the same set of priorities in college), enjoy!

Running Water and Fireflies

Two things were clarified today:

First, we have been blessed with a plethora of fireflies this early summer. I've always known I love fireflies, but this season has been a special favorite.

Second, we've been - maybe not blessed, but - experiencing a lot of rain this past month. It's maybe not up to Biblical proportions yet, but there's been a lot of it. But as I was taking Chester for a walk this afternoon, we walked by a storm drain and the sound of running water reminded me of how much I love to be by a brook. I am determined now to incorporate some sort of water feature on the patio.

And, if "plethora" is not the correct descriptor for a group of fireflies, please let me know.

Top of the Second

. . . so Christ was sacrificed once to take away the sins of many; and he will appear a second time, not to bear sin, but to bring salvation to those who are waiting for him.
- Hebrews 9:28

Walk-Off Single

As we head into the new game of June tomorrow, here's a thought:

I need to replace the light bulb in the lamp by my bed. After an unsatisfying presual of the light bulbs at Sam's (every single one was the new, mercury-laden, compact flourescent kind), I decided to look elsewhere. But it got me thinking:

Pretty soon, the government will be telling me what kind of lightbulb I can use in the lamp on my bedside table. Also, they will probably be telling me where I can set my thermostat at night.

So, the next time the so-called "liberals" in our society tell me that they want to get the government out of our bedrooms, I'm ready to tell them what a bunch of liars I think they are.

But then, I've always known that they were liars.

St Paul's "Desiderata"

To our graduates:

I'm showing my age here. Back when I was in high school, there was a little "prose poem" that was all the rage, called the Desiderata. The word is Latin for "desired things", and for a while in the late 60s and early 70s, you couldn't walk into a gift shop, poster store, or - most likely - a mainline church without seeing the words on a poster.

The poem's origins were shrouded in mystery at the time, adding to its popularity. That seemed to be a recurring theme, about annually there for a while, where the popular culture would get all involved in trying to decipher ambiguous or mysterious song lyrics. Ask your elders sometime about the whole "Paul is dead" thing, or about Don McLean's American Pie song.

Anyway, the poem Desiderata was actually penned by Max Ehrmann, an attorney from Terre Haute, Indiana, in 1927. In his diary, Mr Ehrmann wrote: I should like, if I could, to leave a humble gift -- a bit of chaste prose that had caught up some noble moods. And then he began with the now famous line, "Go placidly amid the noise and the haste and remember what peace there may be in silence . . ." In 1969, the Rev Frederick Kates, the Rector of St Paul's Church in Baltimore, used the Desiderata in a series of devotionals for his congregation. As the devotional materials were passed around and the Desiderata gained in popularity, people believed that the poem was found in the church because of the devotional's heading of "Old St Paul's Church AD 1692".

Wikipedia reports: "As of 1977, the rector of St. Paul's Church was not amused by the confusion. Having dealt with the confusion "40 times a week for 15 years," he was sick of it." It seems that "Exasperation 101" was a required course in Episcopal seminaries even back then.

So even if Old St Paul's Church was merely a clearinghouse for the poem and not its source, the church's namesake nevertheless wrote of similar "desired things" in the twelfth chapter of the book of Romans. I offer you St Paul of Tarsus' "humble gift": some "chaste prose" that definitely catches some "noble moods":

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.
Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.
Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord.
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.
Share with the Lord's people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.
Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.
Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not think you are superior.

Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone.
If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.
Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay," says the Lord.
On the contrary:
If your enemy is hungry, feed him;
if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.
In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.

Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

- Romans 12:9-21 (Today's New International Version)

And so, dear graduates, "go placidly amid the noise and haste" and know that "whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should." In other words, the Lord reigns and he loves you. My prayer for you is that you make it your heart's desire to love and serve Him all your days.

Line of the Night

Speaking of Return of the Jedi, Jason had the line of the evening. We were watching the scene where Han and Leia are trying to hack into the control bunker for the big parabolic dish. C3PO and R2D2 are up the hill and the Ewoks are all around. C3PO gets the idea to draw the Imperial Storm Troopers away from Han and Leia. He calls to the Storm Troopers and they come running to them. Then, the Ewoks begin their ambush of the Storm Troopers.

Jason said, "I always thought they missed an opportunity for a line here. When the Storm Troopers see C3PO and R2D2, one of them should have said, 'Son of a bitch - these are the droids we were looking for!"

Common Ground

Here's something I never would have thought: Rambo, the Ewoks, and Arnold Schwarzenegger have a lot in common. Spike TV was running an action marathon last evening and we saw Rambo: First Blood, Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, and Predator. And what was the common thread? In all of them, the good guys improvised with items found in nature to devise methods of attack. There seemed to be a theme of making large horizontal poles with deadly wooden spikes - even the furry little Ewoks got into the act.

I went to bed after Predator - maybe there was a MacGyver episode to round out the evening.

Top of the Twentieth

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.
- Romans 15:5-6

On the Other Hand

The California Supreme Court may have just handed John McCain all the electoral votes of our most populous state.

Top of the Twelfth

Let your work be manifest to your servants,
and your glorious power to their children.

Let the favour of the Lord our God be upon us,
and prosper for us the work of our hands -

O prosper the work of our hands!

Psalm 90:16-17

I'm Officially Old (Part 3)

Today was our annual Day of Care at church. The Deacons sponsor this day and teams go out to homes where people need a little extra help - some gutters cleaned or flowers planted. Special thanks to my friend, Deacon Bill Savage, for chairing the effort. Bill, you've set the bar very high for next year!

But here's where I'm feeling old. Our team headed out to east of Broken Arrow to replace a man's hot water heater and shore up the subflooring. I told one of our team members that they could follow me. I punched the address into my GPS as we waited at one of the lights downtown. The nice woman's computerized voice came on and said, "Continue forward for point-two miles" . . . and I did - without even looking to see that I had a red light!

I'm Officially Old (Part 2)

Yesterday, as I walked out of the locker room at the Health Club, there was a big reception going on. The nuns, doctors and nurses of the hospital were all chatting over cocktails and hors d'ouevres. I noticed that everyone was staring at me and thought, well, I'm not dressed up like you all, but so what.

Then I got into my truck and noticed that I was unzipped.

But that's not the worst part. This is the third time in a couple of weeks that this has happened.

I'm Officially Old (Part 1)

Today, for the fourth time in five days, I noticed that I had been driving with my turn signal blinking - who knows how long.

But it gets worse . . .

Bottom of the Ninth

As we head into extra innings this month, here's a great quote from James Lileks today:

The future should never come as a surprise to anyone who’s been paying attention.

Have a good night!

Top of the Fifth

The Lord your God will bless you in all your work and in everything you put your hand to.

- Deuteronomy 15:10

Bottom of the Third

Couldn't let the day pass without wishing two of my friends Happy Birthday: Barry Friedman and Erick Devine. They're both in their "golden years" now, so be nice to them. They're also both so good on the stage that they would have made fine attorneys, but Barry's a comic and Erick is an actor, so it's nice to know that they chose more honorable professions!

Barry can be seen all over the hemisphere headlining at comedy clubs and is also the author of three books recounting his life on the road. Barry's wife, Susan, is an accomplished songwriter and singer.

Erick has acted all over the world and has appeared on Broadway in Cats, Ragtime, and others. He is also General Schmitz on the original Broadway cast recording of Seussical, the Musical by Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrends.

Happy birthday, fellows!

Extra! Extra!

Read all about Lindsay and Chester in the Tulsa World today! The article is linked here. Thanks to Cory Young from the World for this picture and to Kim Brown for the article!

Not Ashamed of the PC

Thanks, Reverend Michael, for the link to Pastor Dan Kimball's post about the rise of militant Macscism (my term: Rev Kimball was much nicer about it). It's intended to be a funny post, but it also spoke of some things that I have witnessed first-hand as a Windows user.

Can't we all just get along?

Top of the First

And a very special day it is, too!

At this very time (5:28am) 24 years ago (1984), our lives were blessed beyond measure when Lindsay Katherine made her debut into this world. And it has been blessing upon blessing ever since.

Happy birthday, darling!

"I thank my God every time I remember you." - Philippians 1:3

The Pronunciations They Are a Changin'

As we close out the game of April and head into May (with a very special first inning), here's an observation:

I was watching the highlights of the Bostons v. Atlanta basketball game and thought:
Boston: don't get smug. You have - 4.9 million people; Atlanta has 5.3 million. There was a shift. Get over it.

But second (and apropos to this post):
We still refer to the Celtics with a soft "C" sound, even though everything else celt-related has now been modified to a hard "C" (or "K") sound.

When I was a young boy, my first dog was named Hailey. He was a Schipperke and we pronounced his name the same as Halley's Comet: with a long "A". By the time the comet made its pass, though, we were admonished to pronouce it with a short "A".

And speaking of dogs and pronunciations, there's the whole Peking/Beijing thing. The city has been renamed (or at least repronounced) as Beijing, but the dogs (and I use the term advisedly) are still "Pekingnese" and we still order "Peking Duck" at the restaurant. I'm not sure why we made the switch when we haven't respelled Munich or Moscow to Munchen or Mockba. For that matter, we don't bother to be precise on the pronunciations of Paris, Budapest, Mexico, or Quebec, to name just a few. But we do differentiate between Notre Dame and Notre Dame, depending on which place we're talking about.

Just a little pre-game warmup as we head into the inning of May.

Concessions from the Scouting Group

Tonight, the Scouting Group ate at the Bonefish Grill. It was the second time in the past week and it is quickly becoming a new favorite. Tonight's entree, the Chilean Sea Bass grilled over wood, was as good as a steak (and I mean that as a compliment). The other night, I had the wood-grilled Grouper and was equally impressed.

The atmosphere is nice and relaxed (we ate in the bar area both times) and the televisions in the bar (I know: we've already lost that battle) were at least silent, but get this: our first trip they were set on a baseball game and tonight they were playing the Food Network! I'm sold.

The Art of Song

Mark Steyn, one of the Designated Hitters here at the Park, knocked another homerun this morning with his Song of the Week. I'll let you read it at your leisure, but I loved what he wrote about the "art of song":

Sooner or later someone staples words to just about every popular jazz instrumental. But, from Duke Ellington's "Take The A Train" to Bill Evans' "Waltz For Debby", they somehow never quite convince you they're anything other than instrumental pieces to which a lyric has been appended. They fail the test of that marvelous Encyclopedia Britannica definition that Ira Gershwin liked to quote:

SONG is the joint art of words and music, two arts under emotional pressure coalescing into a third.

With lyricized instrumentals, they rarely "coalesce" in the way that, say, "Ol' Man River" or "Over The Rainbow" do. It's like putting words to Beethoven's Fifth: You can do it but the lyric winds up riding the tune like a jockey, rather than achieving, as the Britannica puts it, the status of a third, joint art.

The Tithe of Time

Coach Jim today gave the best sermon I have ever heard on stewardship, tithing, and all things related. In his characteristic style, he was able to illuminate such a touchy subject without alienating segments of the audience - while at the same time being true to the biblical witness. That's my boy! His text was 1 Timothy 6:17-19 -

Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share. In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life.

I have a theory that our Sabbath observance is also a tithe - of time. And, by extension, I believe that 7 hours and 12 minutes is a good night's sleep. Let me explain.

There are seven days in a week and 24 hours in each day. That makes 168 hours in a week. One-tenth (a "tithe") is 16.8 hours, or 16 hours and 48 minutes. That seems to be basically one "waking-hour" day. So there's your Sunday. And, conversely, the remaining time (7.2 hours, or 7 hours and 12 minutes), is devoted to sleep. That's what I've been using as a guide for the past few years, and it's been a blessing to me.

Time. Talent. Treasures. We're called to be good stewards of these. I want to continually ask myself: How am I doing with the Lord's tithe - and with my offerings?

If I Had a Hammer

Just in case you missed my previous post about Jimmy Carter, let me reiterate: He acts like he has a peanut for a brain. Yes, of course, he's a fellow child of God. Sure, fine. Maybe he and I will have a good laugh about all this up in Heaven. For right now, though, his behavior is reckless and dangerous.

I'd also appreciate it if we could drop the whole "he may have been a terrible president, but he's a great ex-president" line. Great (or even marginal) ex-presidents don't go about making the world less safe.

I'm also beginning to call into question his philanthropic work with Habitat for Humanity, or at the very least, I would hope that someone was going behind him on all those house construction projects, checking his work. After his latest faux pas, I'm not sure he's even competent to hold a hammer up on a ladder.

I just read Michelle Malkin's article about the Peanut Farmer's not-so-excellent adventure and got incensed all over again.

Recycling at Its Best

Happy Earth Day! For a better way to celebrate April 22, however, remember the Land Run of 1889. Saddle up! For those of you unfamiliar with it, the Land Run of 1889 opened up the whole middle part of Oklahoma for settlement. Overnight, the towns of Guthrie and Oklahoma City came into being and, by dusk, they each had 10,000 inhabitants. Talk about environmental impact!

The terms "Sooner" and "Boomer" also came into being that day, with the "Sooners" jumping the gun. I never thought about it, but I guess all of us Baby Boomer Okies are actually Sooner Boomers!

And talkin' 'bout my generation, I do remember the first Earth Day in 1970. I was in the 10th grade and I rode my bicycle to school. Of course, the big fear back then was global cooling. Makes you wonder what they'll come up with as the next crisis.

As is often the case, Mark Steyn has written the definitive column about Earth Day. It originally appeared in The Daily Telegraph in 2004 and it is now recycled gold. I hope you enjoy it and we'll see you tomorrow.

Top of the Twenty-Second

At my first defense, no one came to my support, but everyone deserted me. May it not be held against them. But the Lord stood at my side and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed and all the Gentiles might hear it. And I was delivered from the lion's mouth.

- 2 Timothy 4:16-17

The Goldberg Variations

Just finished Liberal Fascism by Jonah Goldberg. In its 487 pages (58 of which are footnotes and supporting documents) Mr Goldberg gives us an eye-opening history lesson, none of which I learned in the citadels of higher education.

Now, I had always suspected that the German and Italian fascists were creatures of the left (I mean, which part of "National Sozialistische" is unclear?) And their whole pagan Aryan culture silliness struck me as some kind of proto-New Age nonsense. And I already had bad feelings that the current trend in America of undermining parental authority sounded eerily familiar. But I had no idea that Hitler and his cronies were vegetarians, animal rights activists, virulent anti-smokers . . . heck, forget about looking for Hitler in Argentina: you're more likely to find him in the bulk aisle at Whole Foods.

And then there was the amazing suspension of civil rights in the US under Wilson and Roosevelt (that part I knew), with their "speech codes" and "neighborhood watch" wardens. And even though I have always opposed the minimum wage because I thought it actually hurt minorities, I never knew that that was the stated intention of the Southern Democrats who passed it in the New Deal era. And don't get me started about the unbelievable racism and eugenics horrors of the American left.

Mr Goldberg is not saying that if you read It Takes a Village you're a crypto-Nazi. In fact, he thinks that most "liberals" today have the best of intentions. But we all know where those intentions are used as pavement.

His point is that the underlying premises that are the bases for what we call liberalism today are actually more in line with fascist thought, and that it is the "conservatives" who are more in tune with what has historically been referred to as "classical liberalism."

It's a great read and, if you're willing to open your mind, an amazingly helpful book in filling in the holes of all the history you never learned.

Top of the Twenty-First

When morning gilds the skies my heart awaking cries:
May Jesus Christ be praised!
Alike at work and prayer, to Jesus I repair:
May Jesus Christ be praised!

And a good Monday to you all! This song is often on my mind when I wake up by "dawn's early light." I never can remember the rest of the first verse, so today I looked it up on CyberHymnal. There are actually 15 verses! So, as we head into extra innings, here's a gift for you today. Some of the verses were translated into English by Edward Caswall from an old Katholisches Gesangbuch. Another fellow, Robert S. Bridges, added more verses. The music is by Joseph Barnby. I think I'm going to try to memorize one verse a day - and then make it "part of a complete breakfast"!

When you begin the day, O never fail to say,
May Jesus Christ be praised!
And at your work rejoice, to sing with heart and voice,
May Jesus Christ be praised!

Whene’er the sweet church bell peals over hill and dell,
May Jesus Christ be praised!
O hark to what it sings, as joyously it rings,
May Jesus Christ be praised!

My tongue shall never tire of chanting with the choir,
May Jesus Christ be praised!
This song of sacred joy, it never seems to cloy,
May Jesus Christ be praised!

Does sadness fill my mind? A solace here I find,
May Jesus Christ be praised!
Or fades my earthly bliss? My comfort still is this,
May Jesus Christ be praised!

To God, the Word, on high, the host of angels cry,
May Jesus Christ be praised!
Let mortals, too, upraise their voice in hymns of praise,
May Jesus Christ be praised!

Be this at meals your grace, in every time and place;
May Jesus Christ be praised!
Be this, when day is past, of all your thoughts the last
May Jesus Christ be praised!

When mirth for music longs, this is my song of songs:
May Jesus Christ be praised!
When evening shadows fall, this rings my curfew call,
May Jesus Christ be praised!

When sleep her balm denies, my silent spirit sighs,
May Jesus Christ be praised!
When evil thoughts molest, with this I shield my breast,
May Jesus Christ be praised!

The night becomes as day when from the heart we say:
May Jesus Christ be praised!
The powers of darkness fear when this sweet chant they hear:
May Jesus Christ be praised!

No lovelier antiphon in all high Heav’n is known
Than, Jesus Christ be praised!
There to the eternal Word the eternal psalm is heard:
May Jesus Christ be praised!

Let all the earth around ring joyous with the sound:
May Jesus Christ be praised!
In Heaven’s eternal bliss the loveliest strain is this:
May Jesus Christ be praised!

Sing, suns and stars of space, sing, ye that see His face,
Sing, Jesus Christ be praised!
God’s whole creation o’er, for aye and evermore
Shall Jesus Christ be praised!

In Heav’n’s eternal bliss the loveliest strain is this,
May Jesus Christ be praised!
Let earth, and sea and sky from depth to height reply,
May Jesus Christ be praised!

Be this, while life is mine, my canticle divine:
May Jesus Christ be praised!
Sing this eternal song through all the ages long:
May Jesus Christ be praised!

Top Ten Reasons Mitt Romney Dropped Out

I caught the audio of Mitt Romey's speech at some Press Club Dinner affair on Mark Levin yesterday. A video version was on ABC News, via Yahoo. Here is the text. I thought he was very funny.

Mitt Romney's Top Ten Reasons for Bowing Out of the Race

10. There weren't as many Osmonds as I had thought.
9. I got tired of the corkscrew landings under sniper fire.
8. As a lifelong hunter, I didn't want to miss the start of varmint season.
7. There wasn't room in the campaign for two Christian leaders.
6. Word leaked out that nobody had bothered to search my passport files.
5. I'd rather get fat, grow a beard and try for the Nobel Prize.
4. I wanted to finally take off the dark suit and tie and kick back . . . in a light colored suit and tie.
3. Once my wife, Ann, realized I couldn't win, my fundraising dried up.
2. I took a bad fall at a campaign rally and broke my hair.

And the number one reason I bowed out of the race:

1. There was a flaw in our campaign theory that, "as Utah goes, so goes the country."

Georgia Out of My Mind

For anyone who knows me, I think this should be clear, but just in case anyone hasn't checked in since college, please know the following unequivocally:

If I ever said anything nice about Jimmy Carter or Ted Turner, I hereby take everything back. I was either young or stupid or both. They are both vain, petty, wrong-headed men and I am sorry to have ever said anything to the contrary.

Even the part about admiring the Carters for their work with Habitat for Humanity. We have lots of people at our church who have devoted real time and work for that cause and, as far as I know, none of them have ever subverted the policies of the United States. They also haven't done it so that they can be photographed in action.

And Ted is just nuts. I actually think the Atlanta Braves would be one of my favorite teams if they didn't still have the psychic resonance of the Mouth of the South as their curse. Maybe the Ghost Hunters can be called in. But there's no saving CNN. It's damaged goods, plain and simple

The sad thing is: I love Georgia as a state. It's beautiful and diverse and Atlanta is one of my favorite cities on earth. But even their baseball stars don't seem to help. I used to look up to Ty Cobb and I have since learned that he was a hard man - and that's putting it nicely. I also visited Kevin Brown's hometown once on business. When I mentioned to the Director of Gas Operations that I thought this was Kevin's stomping grounds, his eyes lit up. He drove me by the house where he grew up. But I think he (Kevin) might be a little off, too. Maybe it's the Kaolin pits that the town is known for.

And then there's the whole Deliverance thing. And don't get me started about Designing Women.

But at least the Food Network stars that hail from there . . . no, they're kind of wacky, too. I mean, Paula Deen and Alton Brown . . . well, at least they seem to be nice folks. So I'll hold on to that. And Newt Gingrich.

OK. I feel better. But please throw out anything nice I ever said about Jimmy Carter or Ted Turner. It was just the peanuts talking.

On the Training Table

Coach Jim and I met each other at the grocery store yesterday. We're both getting serious about "Spring Training" and so we decided to be each other's accountability partner. Official weigh-ins were last night (the scales must be broken!) Or, as Coach said, "You know it's time to get serious when you get on the scales and they say, 'One at a time, please.'"

We both have been doing really well exercising and I think we both want to watch our food intake. Unfortunately, gone are the days when we could just cut out a serving of potatoes once a week and the pounds would magically disappear. So, today we start in earnest.

More vegetables, more fruits, less fats, less sugars. I seem to do better if I cut my carbohydrate intake, but this time around I'm going to try just eating whole-grains rather than a hard-line Atkins approach.

I showed Coach my favorite oatmeal: "Scottish Oatmeal" from Bob's Red Mill. I had never thought of it before, but Coach Jim wondered if the oats really were from Scotland, as the name is "Scottish Oatmeal" and not "Scottish-style Oatmeal" - kind of like how things now have to be called "Canadian-style bacon" and "Nilla wafers". On the other hand, how does Cream Cheese still get to be "Philadelphia"? I don't think the factory is necessarily in the City of Brotherly Love.

Anyway, Bob's oatmeal is great stuff, and he looks very jaunty with his tam o'shanter on the label. Give it a try. And keep Coach and me in your prayers.

Top of the Fourteenth

The acorn, when planted, though small it may be,
How quickly it grows to a wide spreading tree;
A lesson, dear children, for you and for me,
We all can do something for Jesus.

- Fanny Crosby

Bark in the Park

The Tulsa Drillers baseball team hosts, at least once a year, the "Bark in the Park". You can bring your dog to the park. Here's Chester and Lindsay on the field before the game.


Hot dogs were 50 cents. We saw a lot of 50 cent hot dog plays on the field, too, and one amazing double play.



Chester was great except that we might have given him one too many hot dogs - he threw up in the third inning.


Here are Lindsay and Jason with Chester and Jewel.







It was a great day at the park.

Loss of Yardage

Well, we were penalized about 20 yards. The best I can tell, the foul we commited was "Failing to have a building named after you" or maybe "Failure to be a large corporate donor". Anyway, we ended up about 20 yards and change north of where we used to be, probably on about the 25 yard line.

I think the thing that really smarts is that our seats had been in the same place for about 60 years. My dad and his friend, Sankey, bought season tickets when they came home from the war. And they were faithful fans (and let's face it, where TU is concerned, that ought to count for a lot) through all the lean years, though the years when you came just to hear the band, through the Keith Burns years - you name it, they were there.

But the whole algorithm for figuring out who got to pick seats first seemed - well, let's be charitable and just call it "outcome determinative". The way the various parameters were weighted (for example, we got credit for "years of attendance" - but only back through 1992 - why 1992?) smelled a little fishy from the start.

Money's important to a program, don't get me wrong. But 60 years of faithfulness ought to count for something.

So now I've got a claim on these new seats. Now I just need to decide if I really want them.

Top of the Eleventh

Good morning, everyone! Today's the day we pick our seats at the University of Tulsa's newly redesigned Chapman Stadium. For those of you familiar with the campus, this is the same stadium that used to be named Skelly Stadium. In the redesign, it will now be "Skelly Field at Chapman Stadium".

As you can see in the link, the new stadium will have a much smaller seating capacity. They have already removed all that scaffolding-like west-side upper-deck and press box. It had been there for 40-some odd years and it always looked temporary to me. The stadium proper will be back to the original, stone-built dimensions, and the new press box will also house some sky boxes and a Club Level. Most all of the seats in the "common folk" areas will also be larger and have chair backs, too.

Many of you have probably been through this reseating process at other venues. There is some arcane process whereby you get credit for years you've held your old seats (but only back to 1992), whether you are an alum, and (of course) how much you've contributed. Our old seats, on the 47-yard line and 25 rows up, have been in the family since right after World War II, but our last name isn't "Chapman" or "QuikTrip", so we probably will lose some yardage, but we'll see.

Wish me luck!

Edward Albee meets Scott Adams

We just watched the post-strike season premier of The Office. Wow. It was definitely worth the wait. I'm not sure I've ever laughed that much at a sit-com.

Michael and Jan invite Jim, Pam, Andy and Angela over for dinner. And, of course, Dwight is involved. It was like Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf meets Dilbert and it was The Office at its best. I spent 30 minutes simultaneously cringing and uncontrollably laughing.

And that's what she said.

Middle of the Ninth

Lindsay just read something we found incredible:

The B2 Stealth Bomber costs about $2 Billion per plane, or about three times its weight in gold.

- from International Relations by J S Goldstein and J C Pevehouse

That's a lot of bake sales!

Song of the South

Song, song of the south
Sweet potato pie and shut my mouth
Gone, gone with the wind
Ain't nobody lookin' back again
- Alabama

I just glanced at the Table of United States Metropolitan Statistical Areas (courtesy of Wikipedia). Wow, I need to reorient my thinking. We're all in the big leagues, now.

New York tops the list, of course, with 18.8 million folks. And Los Angeles is second with 12.9 million (although when you add in Ontario/Riverside/San Bernardino, the number climbs to 16.9). And Chicago is third with 9.5 million. That's the way I always learned it.

But now it gets different. Dallas/Ft Worth is fourth with - 6.1 million! When did that happen? And although Philadelphia is fifth with 5.8 million, Houston is close behind with 5.6 million. Miami comes in seventh with 5.4 million.

Here's the next big surprise. Washington, DC is eighth (that I could foresee), but now with 5.3 million souls (well, a large percentage are attorneys, so maybe "souls" is a stretch, but you get my meaning). And here is another big stunner: Atlanta now also has 5.3 million people living there! What would Aunt Pittypat say now about Yankees in Georgia? But there are plenty up north, too: Boston rounds out the top ten with 4.9 million.

We all seem to be growing boys and girls, but the huge, double-digit percentage increases are happening in the South and Southwest (Phoenix, Austin, Orlando, Las Vegas, Raleigh-Durham - you get the picture). In fact, of the top 50 areas, only four have lost population since 2000: Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Buffalo and Rochester. Do we discern a trend here?

But the biggest surprise came when I found my home town, Tulsa, Oklahoma. We're number 53 on the list and it showed us with 905,755 inhabitants - and predicts we will reach one million before the next census! Wow. Our neighbor down the turnpike, Oklahoma City, is number 44 with 1.2 million.

There was one other notable population loss. New Orleans, currently with 1 million people, has lost 21.74% of its population since 2000. In fact, it would probably be safe to say the exodus has happened since Hurricane Katrina.

It's a fascinating look at the country and, for me, took me back to Mrs. Trundle's fourth grade class for a moment before slingshotting me into the future.

Bottom of the Sixth

As we head into the seventh tomorrow, we'd like to welcome a new concessionaire to the Park - Bunnahabhain Whisky. Produced on the Isle of Islay (from whence also hail my other favorites, Bruichladdich and Laphroaig), Bunnahabhain means "mouth of the river". As their website describes the Bay of Bunnahabhain, "it is both picturesque and clement". Two qualities to be desired.

The funny thing is, I had always shied away from purchasing Bunnahabhain because the seafaring captain on the bottle planted in my mind that it might have a taste reminiscent of Old Spice. After one sip last night, I realized how wrong I had been.

It has that winey, briney, peaty flavor that all the Islay Scotches possess. It is milder than Lagavulin (or Laphroaig) but still lets you know that peat bogs have been visited. It is thoroughly enjoyable and we are pleased to offer it at the Park.

In Gaelic, the "bh" combination is pronouced like "v", and the "u" is like the short "oo" in "book", so I think it would be pronounced "Boo-na-hah-vn". But here's the slogan we'll be running on the scoreboard:

Bunnahabhain
Ask for it by name
(Yeah, right)

They tell me that focus-tested well, but I'm just not sure . . .

And with that, we bid you a pleasant evening.

Charlton Gave Up His Gun

I was saddened to hear that Charlton Heston died last night at the age of 84. Recalling one of his most famous quotes made while he was at the helm of the NRA, I had this image of the undertaker finally having to pry the gun from his hand. I hope so, anyway.

Mr Heston, like John Wayne and Ronald Reagan, was "a man's man". In fact, I remember thinking, during Vice President Gore's somewhat embarassing attempt to be remade a man under Naomi Wolfe's tutelage, "Why on earth do we need another 'alpha male'? We've already got 'The Omega Man'."

Playwright David Mamet's recent conversion to the "right" side also made me think of Mr Heston and Hollywood's snubbing of him as his politics began to stray off the reservation. I have already read of some critics having "second thoughts" about their earlier glowing reviews of Mr Mamet's plays. It's a bit pathetic, if you ask me. Maybe Mr Mamet can get together with Dennis Miller and compare notes.

In fact, it always amazes how little a Hollywood liberal has to do to be considered "brave" or "daring" or even "talented." Hollywood conservatives are held to a much higher standard, if they are addressed at all. Of course, like our politicians and pundits, I think that it's made us have to be stronger, more reasoned, efficient. So I guess we should take it as a blessing.

Mr Heston had quite a distinguished career. People remember him for his later dystopian films like The Omega Man (based on the same story as the current I Am Legend with Will Smith) and The Planet of the Apes, but he started out playing Moses and Michelangelo - and went up from there. He won the Oscar for his portrayal of "Ben-Hur". He was the president of the Screen Actors Guild and chairman of the American Film Institute. Putting more stock in action than words, he marched with Civil Rights leaders in the 1950s. He was elected the president of the National Rifle Association in 1998 and he received the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2003.

Mr Heston continued to speak out for the causes he believed in. He resigned from Actors Equity when they refused to allow a white actor to play the role of a eurasian in Miss Saigon. He thought it was "obscenely racist" and, given that he had marched shoulder to shoulder with Dr King numerous times, I'll defer to him on that. He also turned a few faces red when he, to protest the record company's promoting of violence and misogyny, read the lyrics from Cop Killer at a Time-Warner shareholders meeting. Mr Heston wrote in his book Into the Arena, "I'll surely never be offered another film by Warners, nor get a good review in Time. On the other hand, I doubt I'll get a traffic ticket very soon."

God bless you, sir, and may the Lord be with your family, especially Lydia, your wife of 64 years.

Top of the Sixth

And a good Sabbath to you! We are priviliged this weekend to host Dr Dale Bruner for our church's Celebration of Faith weekend. Dr Bruner is a very engaging speaker: at once winsome and entertaining, but always unflinching when it comes to the "tough" issues, and incredibly gifted at unpacking words and phrases in the Gospels, allowing their meanings to shine forth.

Many scholars consider his two-volume Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew to be the best around. And he is working on a Commentary on the Gospel of John, as well.

Dr Bruner captivated us for an hour last night with the story of Jesus meeting the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4:1-42). He told us something that I'd like you to think about today as you hear your pastor or priest. He said that one of his professors told him that "the Word" comes to us in three ways.

1. The incarnate Word of God: Jesus Christ
2. The printed Word available to all of us through canonical Scripture
3. The spoken Word which comes alive every time we hear it proclaimed through someone in tune with the other two facets of the Word

What a privilege we have! I know that our congregation is blessed that our pastor speaks the Word so powerfully and vibrantly to us - and I know that he has a deep and personal relationship with the incarnate Word, as well as a thorough knowledge and deep respect for the printed Word - so I think Dr Bruner is on to something.

Give a listen today to your pastor. See what you think.

Prepositions Can Really Hang You Up the Most

Trying to brush up on my German, I'm wondering if maybe it's easier to teach an old dog new tricks than it is to reteach a Hund an old language. Nouns, actually, aren't so bad. The objects or concepts they represent are pretty congruent across the board and it's mostly just a matter of memorization: a dog is a Hund is a perro is a chien. Other languages may have those (to me) unfathomable and arbitrary genders but, again, you just put your head down and memorize what uses el or la or der, die or das.

Similarly, verbs, for the most part, translate on a one-to-one basis. With German and English, we even get to take advantage of our shared roots on some of the action words: singen and bringen and trinken (to sing, to bring, to drink). And even some (but by no means all) of the colloquial phrases are similar: to ask a friend "Wie gehts?" is basically asking "How goes it?"

Prepositions, though. That's where I struggle. I read once of a study where researchers would show people a spectrum of light and ask them to draw a line where thought "yellow" or "blue" or "purple" was. Everyone was in the same ballpark, of course, but people from the same culture were usually right together with their choices.

That's kind of how I feel about prepositions. I know it's just a matter of memorizing, but I feel like I don't know the secret handshake. Sometimes you use the word you think you would and sometimes the usage requires something different. For example, "to" and zu are often interchangeable, as are "after" and nach, but if you tell someone, "We're travelling to Munich," you say "Wir fahren nach München." I'll leave it to another post to discuss whether this concept of going after something translates to a cultural aggresiveness, but it does get confusing for us accidental tourists.

And then there are the words that really deceive you. You might think that an and auf would correspond to "on" and "off", and in many cases you'd be right. But sometimes they mean the opposite of what you think: to put "the book on the table" is to put "das Buch auf dem Tisch."

You also have to worry about the dative case (which we don't distinguish in English) and that adds another layer of complexity. For example, if you're using the preposition vor (generally meaning "before"), your articles may change depending on whether you mean something is "before" in time or "before" in placement.

If it sounds like I'm griping, I don't mean to be. I actually enjoy learning new languages, but I'm just wondering if I'm getting a little too old. On the other hand:

Patience and perseverance
Made a bishop of his Reverence

Which sounds a lot better than "Beharrlichkeit macht frei", don't you think?

Middle of the Fourth

Hope your day is going great. I've already mentioned that Joe Torre's move to LA has renewed my interest in the Dodgers. And of course, Joe Girardi and the Yankees will always hold first place in my heart. So, I got to thinking about the whole League and came up with this hierarchy.

There's only one team I will actively root against (see the bottom of the list) but, if a game comes up and you ever want to know which team I'm rooting for, it will generally be the team that is higher up on this list.

The Absolute Favorites
Yankees
Dodgers
Tigers
Nationals

Special Places in the Heart
Cardinals
Phillies
Reds
Rockies
Royals

Others Teams I Follow
Cubs
Rangers
Padres

Generally Positive
Orioles
Indians
Brewers
Mariners
Twins

Indifference
White Sox
Angels
Pirates
Diamondbacks
Mets
Marlins
Rays

Overcoming Past Negatives
Braves
Blue Jays
Astros
Athletics
Giants

The Anti-Franchise
Red Sox

Just Trying to Help

What with the current flap over Rev Jeremiah Wright (and with what I already know about the UCC denomination), I am here to offer my assistance to the United Church of Christ. If they'd like it, I hereby offer them this new slogan, free of charge. I think it accurately reflects their views:

The United - Church - of Christ:
Hey, two out of three ain't bad!

I make the same offer to the Episcopal Church in America - and pray that my beloved Presbyterians don't also need assistance!

Top of the Fourth

Redeeming the time . . .

Jim's son Jonathan started a Bible study/devotional time this school year. He invited some friends last fall and they started meeting every Wednesday morning at Jonathan's house. Now, some of the friends have invited other friends, and the group has grown to about 12. They have bagels and hot chocolate, share the Word, and then Jim drives them all to school.

This week, Jaclyn, our director of middle school youth at church, joined the group. That alone would have made it a special day (they all love Jaclyn), but something else happened to make it memorable. In the middle of breakfast, one of the kids threw up. Big time. As Jim and Jaclyn explained it yesterday, it went everywhere. It warmed my heart that it wasn't in Jaclyn's frame of reference to say something like "Linda Blair-style" (as I probably would have done), but rather to describe it with the more clinical "projectile".

Jim took care of the embarassed-to-tears child, calmed the others, and began to clean up. Jaclyn took the other kids into the den and continued with the study. What struck me, though, is that whatever they were studying that day, I'll bet the kids never forget it.

We learned in Property Law class that, before there was a written system for recording real estate transactions (and probably because there weren't that many people who could read then, anyway), the parties would go out on the property for the "Livery of Seisin" ceremony. They would invite as many friends as they could, in part to have a large pool of witnesses and in part to celebrate. The seller would pick up some dirt from the land and hand it to the buyer - and that is when "title" is deemed to have passed.

In order to mark the festivities, the buyer would throw a huge party, with food and drink and games for the children. Then, out of nowhere, they'd take the youngest child there and give them a whipping (current sensibilities forbid me from contemplating anything worse than a spanking, but who knows). The idea was that the day would be seared in the child's mind and, being the youngest person there, the child would theoretically be the person living the longest in case any questions about the transaction arose in later years.

Two thoughts. First: Does it make you think a little more kindly toward the realtors, lawyers, and closers in our present-day transactions - or do you wonder if we've really progressed?

More importantly, I think there is power in the unexpected to help us recall attending events. People in car wrecks often say that "everything seemed to be happening in slow motion." Everyone remembers where they were "when Kennedy was shot" or "when the Challenger blew up." Or, as Alan Jackson asks:

Where were you when the world stopped turning
that September day?
Out in the yard with your wife and children
Working on some stage in LA . . .

And we all know.

But I also think that Jim and Jaclyn were part of those kids' lives and development in a special way on Wednesday, because whatever they talked about is sure to stay with them for a long time to come. And it made me think of Ephesians 5:15 - 17:

Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil. So do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.

It's a call for me to be more intentional in my living and my dealings with others.

Because you never know when somebody's going to throw up.

Bottom of the Second

Good night, all.

Golden slumbers fill your eyes
Smiles awake you when you rise
Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.

- Paul McCartney and John Lennon

Middle of the Second

I just remembered a dream (nightmare, maybe) I had last night.

I was trying to convince someone that we should make Logan's Run into a musical.

Yikes!

Of Monies and Mouths

Of course, many of us have known the following for a while.

The compassion of conservatives: Go here for George Will's article reviewing the findings of Professor Arthur C Brooks that conservatives give more than so-called "compassionate liberals". Says Mr Will:

If many conservatives are liberals who have been mugged by reality, Brooks, a registered independent, is, as a reviewer of his book said, a social scientist who has been mugged by data.

An example of Professor Clark's findings:

Although liberal families' incomes average 6 percent higher than those of conservative families, conservative-headed households give, on average, 30 percent more to charity than the average liberal-headed household ($1,600 per year vs. $1,227).

As Mr Will summarizes another finding:

People who reject the idea that "government has a responsibility to reduce income inequality" give an average of four times more than people who accept that proposition.

The generosity of the American people: Go here for Neal B Freeman's article about the generosity of the American people and American corporations.

A Question (and Statement) about Eggs

Here's the question: Is there an inverse correlation between the quality of an egg and the ease of peeling it once it's hard-boiled?

We bought some of "Jeremiah Cunningham's World's Best Eggs" from Coyote Creek Farm. They were organic, farm fresh, gathered and packed by hand, and "laid by happy hens living in organic pastures". I also figure those hens must be fast, too, beings as how they are roaming free near a creek known for its coyotes.

Anyway, they are very delicious, but when I have tried to peel them after hardboiling I make a mess of everything. And I have tried peeling them warm, cold, under running water, you name it.

Any ideas?

Oh, and the statement. As much as I like flaky sea salt, when you eat it with hard-boiled eggs, it makes you think you haven't gotten all the shell.

Food for thought. Or rather, thought for food, I guess.

Mugged!

Top of the Second

What would Psalm 100 look like in the form of worship?

1. Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all the earth.
2. Worship the Lord with gladness; come into his presence with signing.
3. Know that the Lord is God. It is he that made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
4. Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise. Give thanks to him, bless his name.
5. For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures for ever, and his faithfulness to all generations.

Here's one idea (each step corresponds with the verses above):

1. Take a moment to look at the world around you - God's creation. See how "even the rocks and stones sing". Sense your place in his world.
2. Be glad. If you don't think you are, take up the shield of faith to know that you can be even in the midst of present circumstances. Sing something.
3. Take a passage of scripture to heart. Then, take it to mind. Know it. Let the Word speak to you. As his people and his sheep, we have strayed. Acknowledge your missteps and receive forgiveness. And also know that the Shepherd loves his flock more than we can yet know.
4. Give thanks for all your blessings. Then, from that threshold of "his gates" (of "thanks, Lord, because . . ." of something), go deeper: enter "his courts" - bless the Lord for who he is and in all circumstances.
5. Go into the day secure in the knowledge of God's goodness, steadfast love, and faithfulness. Resolve to be the Lord's hands and feet today in bringing that goodness, love and faithfulness to others.

It's an idea I had this morning. I know you'll find something even better in the Psalm.

Send in the Clowns - and the Jokers

Today, Bernard Goldberg's book Crazies to the Left of Me, Wimps to the Right: How One Side Lost Its Mind and the Other Lost Its Nerve comes out in paperback. I assume he's giving a nod to the old Stealer's Wheel song. In a short interview I heard with Mr Goldberg, I believe the premise of his book is spot on: the left has absolutely gone over the cliff and, while conservatives may still believe in important things, Republicans have lost it.

My dad smoked from the age of 17 until he was 56. But from that day forward (he just threw his pack of Chesterfields away that day and never looked back, by the way), he was the most anti-smoker I know. I kind of feel the same way about Mr Goldberg. A reporter and media personality at CBS, cut his teeth in left-leaning journalism, socialist summer camps, Ben Shahn drawings on the wall . . . stop me before I make a complete fool of myself (for our younger readers, please see Annie Hall) - he now has that bit of missionary zeal about him. You go, Bernie!

Back Where it Belongs

If anyone was at McNellie's Pub last Sunday and noticed this gentleman using a certain mug in an unauthorized manner:

please rest assured that mug and rightful owner have been reunited. I do commend the perpetrator on his choice of beverage, however (Grimbergen Double).

Repurposing

Cleaning and rearranging the kitchen this morning, I hit on an idea. I have an old cigar humidor that hasn't held a stogy in ages, so I put Lindsay's tea bags in it. They look great - kind of like what they bring around at some restaurants (very British, don't you think?)

My question is: does anyone know if there is an optimum humidity for keeping tea? The humidor has a hygrometer and humidity source built-in, so we might as well use it if it would help.

Any ideas?

Top of the First

Look at all the stars. You look up and you think, "God made all this and He remembered to make a little speck like me." It's kind of flattering, really.
- Morgan Earp (Bill Paxton) in Tombstone (1993)

A Nice Touch

Watching the opening game at Cincinnati just now, as Reds players and coaches took the field, every uniform was, well, uniform. Each and every one sported the number 41 and the name "Nuxhall" on the back. It was fitting tribute for Cincinnati legend Joe Nuxhall.

Mr Nuxhall was a left-handed pitcher for the Reds most of his career. That is, his first career. Immediately upon retirement he began announcing for the Reds, a position he kept until his death last November.

He also holds the record for being the youngest player ever in the majors. On June 10, 1944, 15-year old Joe Nuxhall filled out the war-depleted roster and pitched 2/3 of an inning.

Mr Nuxhall ended every broadcast with, "This is the old lefthander, rounding third and heading for home." Welcome home, Joe.

Rain Delay

It's raining in Tulsa and, coincidentally, also in the Bronx. The Yankees are hosting the Blue Jays at Yankee Stadium. It's the last year for the old stadium. When the rain stops, pitcher Chien-Ming Wang will take the mound, and Joe Girardi will take the helm as the Yankee's new skipper.

I've always liked Joe Girardi and am thrilled he took Joe Torre's place (that is, if someone had to take his place at all). Girardi is like an old-style player: he always looked like he stepped out of the 1940s (or maybe an Iowa cornfield) when he was behind the plate catching. To paraphrase Walt Whitman, "I see great things in Girardi. He will rally the team and repair their losses."

And with Torre in LA, I have a new reason to root for the Dodgers!

Monday Morning Openers

Good morning, everyone! It's Opening Day. "There's new grass on the field." The Nationals have a new stadium, and all's right with the world. More baseball talk later today, but I wanted to post again that great question that a gentleman in our congregation carries around in his wallet:

What are you daring to attempt that could not be accomplished without God’s strength and intervention?

Dream big. Pray hard.

Is it bad luck to sit behind someone in a Chinese Restaurant?

Eating at the Pei Wei last night, I noticed a woman throwing something over her shoulder. I assumed she had spilled the salt, but on closer inspection, I realized that there weren't any salt shakers on the tables. So I wondered: if people in Asian countries spill the soy sauce, do they throw it over their shoulders? And doesn't that get kind of messy?

On a related topic, in those tribes where they believe taking your picture steals your soul, does breaking a mirror bring seven years of good luck?

What other superstitions are either superannuated or in need of a makeover?

Centerfield

Centerfield
by John Fogerty

Easter Sunday

The Lord is risen, indeed! A glorious Easter Day to you and yours! Today, the victory is won. Let's celebrate it (and wrap up our Lenten Blog journey) with John Fogerty’s anthem from his multi-platinum comeback album:

Well, beat the drum and hold the phone - the sun came out today!
We’re born again, there’s new grass on the field.
A-roundin’ third, and headed for home, it’s a brown-eyed handsome man;
Anyone can understand the way I feel.

We had a wonderful day in church today. The music in all the services was top-notch. My dear friend Jim preached a powerful and heartfelt sermon from John 20: Mary Magdalene has returned to the tomb to find it empty. Her grief is so strong that she isn’t even afraid of the two angels sitting in the tomb. In fact, she thinks the resurrected Jesus is the gardener at first – after all, there is nothing in her frame of reference to make her think that dead people get up.

I can somewhat relate to Mary’s overlooking of Jesus. A few years ago, my daughter and I were walking on the streets of London. We passed someone in the crowd and I remarked to Lindsay, “Wow, that fellow looked just like my cousin.” Of course, I didn’t think there was any way it could be him – he lived in Texas and we were in London, after all. Come to find out when we got home, it was my cousin, and he had said essentially the same thing to his business associate as they walked down that London street, “Wow, that fellow looked just like my cousin.”

But, when Jesus calls “Mary” by name, she knows it is the Lord. She is overcome with joy. And here’s where Jim said something that really hit home. He said that Mary is the first one that Jesus “commissions” after His resurrection. He tells her to “go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ (John 20:17)” And Mary gets in the game:

Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.

Each of the eleven disciples will also get into the game. After spending the last few days hiding in fear, completely destroyed after the death of their friend, each one will meet the Risen Lord, and everything will change:

Well, I spent some time in the Mudville Nine, watchin’ it from the bench;
You know I took some lumps when the Mighty Casey struck out.
So say hey, Willie, tell Ty Cobb and Joe DiMaggio;
Don’t say "it ain’t so", you know the time is now.

Peter, especially, will receive some invaluable time with his Coach and friend. At the end of St John’s Gospel, when Jesus asks three times if Peter loves him (mirroring the three times Peter denied Jesus), Jesus is in effect saying to him, “I need you, Peter. Come on, my friend, get back in the game.

Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.

Yeah! I got it, I got it!

Each and every one of us has been gifted with unique talents and abilities – ways that we can serve the Master. And here’s the really amazing thing about the Lord’s farm-system: sometimes He doesn’t even work through the Minor Leagues, from Double-A to Triple-A – He might just lift us out of the sandlot and say, you’re in “The Show” now, my friend!

Got a beat-up glove, a homemade bat, and brand-new pair of shoes;
You know I think it’s time to give this game a ride.
Just to hit the ball and touch ’em all - a moment in the sun;
(Pop) it’s gone and you can tell that one goodbye!

So my prayer for you and for me is that we answer the Lord’s call and get in the game. Be there for Him for the whole season. Suit up. Run it out. Make the diving catch. Swing for the fences! There’s nothing more exciting than this adventure!

Oh, put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Put me in, coach - I’m ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be centerfield.

Carry On

Carry On
by David Crosby, Stephen Stills, Graham Nash and Neil Young

This morning I woke up and I knew
You were really gone
A new day, a new way, I knew
I should see it along
Go your way, I'll go mine
Carry on

Holy Week is a roller-coaster ride of emotions. For those of us who know “how the story ends”, I believe that we feel complicity, remorse, guilt, and contrition, and then there is a very deep and profound sense of thanks – thanks to the Lord for loving us, for dying for us, for saving us. But the one thing we don’t have to worry about is whether or not Jesus will get up. We have the benefit of history and of the Truth written in our hearts. I think about all Jesus’ disciples and friends waking up on that Saturday morning. The horrors of Good Friday are past and their friend is dead. Those of us who have lost a loved one know something of that feeling – waking up that first morning and feeling that part of us is dead, too.

The sky is clearing and the night
Has gone out
The sun, he come, the world
is all full of light
Rejoice, rejoice, we have no choice
But to carry on

The Israelites were no strangers to suffering and waiting. After the 40 years of wandering, after the Babylonian captivity, they were accustomed to waiting. They still think we’re waiting for the promised Messiah, I guess, now that I think about it. The prophet Zephaniah was quite a bearer of “doom and gloom”. But, at the end of his book, there are some amazing and wonderfully optimistic verses, pointing to the future:

On that day they will say to Jerusalem,
"Do not fear, Zion;
do not let your hands hang limp.
The LORD your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing."
– Zephaniah 3:16-17

I guess there are two ways to look at that “do not let your hands hang limp” phrase. On the one hand, experts say that when people are depressed, they don’t swing their arms. Now, I will admit that, even before I had ever heard that, I had noticed that people in New York City don’t seem to swing their arms as much as people back home – I didn’t know why, but I had just noticed that. Then one day, some friends and I at work were discussing whether the arm swinging part was a cause or an effect. We wondered if people could intentionally swing their arms and thereby elevate their moods. I mentioned that maybe all those older folks you see “power walking” at the mall were actually improving their disposition. A couple of days later, one of my co-workers came to work and related a strange dream she had had. She said, “I dreamed I was severely depressed and was walking around, not swinging my arms. In my dream I decided to just jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. But as I did and the air rushed around me, the turbulence started to make my arms flap about . . . and I started to feel great! But I had already jumped off the top of the bridge. And I remember the last thing, before I woke up, was thinking, 'Damn!'”

And another way to think about it is to just “keep on keeping on,” as I've heard people say. "For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart (Hebrews 12:3)." In other words, carry on.

The fortunes of fables are able
To sing the song
Now witness the quickness with which
We get along
To sing the blues you've got to live the tunes
Carry on

For those of you who have been along with me on this Lenten adventure, “living the tunes”, thank you! Your readership and comments are greatly appreciated, and humbling. There will be an Easter post, and then week or so hiatus before the blog comes back in a somewhat different form. But back to today’s thoughts . . .

In the 2000 film Cast Away, Tom Hanks’ character is marooned on a South Pacific island for 1,500 days. At the end of the film, he tells Helen Hunt how he got through the times when he didn’t know how long it would be before he was rescued, if ever: “And I know what I have to do now. I gotta keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?”

Even those of us on this side of Easter know that it can be hard sometimes, just to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I think, for those disciples who weren’t sure at the time how the story would end, this time from Good Friday to Easter morning must have been dark times, indeed. And then, suddenly . . .

At that time I will gather you;
at that time I will bring you home.
I will give you honor and praise
among all the peoples of the earth
when I restore your fortunes
before your very eyes,"
says the LORD.
– Zephaniah 3:20

“Before our very eyes.” And so we wait. To us, it’s a brief moment. To the disciples, it might have seemed an eternity. But something amazing awaits us tomorrow.

Carry on
Love is coming
Love is coming to us all . . .

Lawyers, Guns and Money

Lawyers, Guns and Money
by Warren Zevon

Good Friday

Once again, it’s Fun-Time Friday. That may sound absurd, given the circumstances, but it’s no more implausible than calling today “Good” Friday, is it? Of course, through God’s redemptive power, He is able to take this darkest of days and bend it to the good, turning this Easter weekend into the most important and hopeful time for the whole human race.

Today’s song is from that “excitable boy” Warren Zevon, who died in 2003 after a battle with lung cancer. Shortly before his death, Mr Zevon filled in for an extended period for Paul Shaefer as the bandleader on Late Night with David Letterman. The bulk of his earlier career was spent as a composer of catchy, sometimes profound, and always quirky songs, such as Werewolves of London and – perhaps apropos of today, as well – Accidentally, Like a Martyr.

Lawyers, Guns and Money is a story of deals gone south and best laid plans gone awry . It begins with a case of mistaken identity and its serious consequences:

I went home with the waitress
The way I always do
How was I to know
She was with the Russians, too?

Sound familiar? Let’s pick up the Gospel story early this Good Friday morning:

While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the servant girls of the high priest came by. When she saw Peter warming himself, she looked closely at him. “You also were with that Nazarene, Jesus,” she said. But he denied it. “I don't know or understand what you're talking about,” he said, and went out into the entryway. When the servant girl saw him there, she said again to those standing around, “This fellow is one of them.” Again he denied it. After a little while, those standing near said to Peter, “Surely you are one of them, for you are a Galilean.” He began to call down curses, and he swore to them, “I don't know this man you're talking about.” Immediately the rooster crowed the second time. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken to him: “Before the rooster crows twice you will disown me three times.” And he broke down and wept.
– Mark 14:66-72

Meanwhile, Jesus is being beaten and mocked by the Roman soldiers. They have thrust a crown of thorns on His head, put a “royal” robe on Him and given Him a reed sceptre, while throwing dice to see who will get to keep His garments:

I was gambling in Havana
I took a little risk
Send lawyers, guns and money
Dad, get me out of this

Jesus had already called on his own Dad, last night in the garden, when he said, “Abba, Father, everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will (Mark 14:36).” But from that moment forward, Jesus set His face toward Golgotha. He will endure unbelievably brutal beatings and blows, so much so that the soldiers will have to conscript the help of someone on the street to help Jesus carry the cross to Calvary: “A certain man from Cyrene, Simon, the father of Alexander and Rufus, was passing by on his way in from the country, and they forced him to carry the cross (Mark 15:21).”

I'm the innocent bystander
Somehow I got stuck
Between the rock
and a hard place
And I'm down on my luck
Yes, I'm down on my luck
Well, I'm down on my luck

We have already seen Peter, the “Rock”, crumbling under pressure and denying his Lord. The rest of the disciples also scattered, fearing for their lives:

I'm hiding in Honduras
I'm a desperate man
Send lawyers, guns and money . . .

But Jesus stood before the tribunals and rulers, engaging them with the most important questions they would ever ask:

Very early in the morning, the chief priests, with the elders, the teachers of the law and the whole Sanhedrin, reached a decision. They bound Jesus, led him away and handed him over to Pilate. “Are you the king of the Jews?” asked Pilate. “You have said so,” Jesus replied. The chief priests accused him of many things. So again Pilate asked him, “Aren't you going to answer? See how many things they are accusing you of.” But Jesus still made no reply, and Pilate was amazed.
– Mark 15:1-5

[Pilate] went back inside the palace. “Where do you come from?” he asked Jesus, but Jesus gave him no answer. “Do you refuse to speak to me?” Pilate said. “Don't you realize I have power either to free you or to crucify you?” Jesus answered, “You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.” From then on, Pilate tried to set Jesus free . . .
– John 19:9-12

Lawyers, guns and money . . .

Pilate and the Chief Priests did their own lawyerly battling, with this bit of wordsmithing:

Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened to the cross. It read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS. Many of the Jews read this sign, for the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and the sign was written in Aramaic, Latin and Greek. The chief priests of the Jews protested to Pilate, "Do not write 'The King of the Jews,' but that this man claimed to be king of the Jews." Pilate answered, "What I have written, I have written."
– John 19:19-21

And the “big guns” of the day, the Roman soldiers, had already thrown their weight around. But after they had scourged, mocked and beaten Jesus, at least some of them at last got it right:

And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs after Jesus' resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people. When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, "Surely he was the Son of God!"
– Matthew 27:50-54

And then there was the money. Perhaps Jesus’ rhetorical question from earlier in His ministry, “What good is it for you to gain the whole world, yet forfeit your soul? (Mark 8:36)” was ringing in Judas’ ears that morning of Good Friday:

When Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was seized with remorse and returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. "I have sinned," he said, "for I have betrayed innocent blood." "What is that to us?" they replied. "That's your responsibility." So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself.
– Matthew 27:3-5

Jesus calls on His “Abba” – his Dad – one last time, in His last words from the Cross: “Jesus called out with a loud voice, ‘Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.’ When he had said this, he breathed his last (Luke 23:46).” I heard it explained once that that phrase was an ancient Hebrew children’s bedtime prayer, much as we might today say, “Now I lay me down to sleep.” Here is the Lamb of God, slain for the sins of the whole world, completely trusting His heavenly Father for what comes next.

Like the old adage, “You can’t judge a book by its cover,” we often aren’t able to grasp the whole meaning of a situation by just taking it at face value. Mr Zevon seems to echo this thought in another of his songs:

I saw a werewolf drinking a Piña Colada at Trader Vic’s
and his hair was "perfect".

Remembering the details of this day, we may marvel at how anyone could call it “Good” Friday. But in just a couple of sunrises, by that glorious Easter morning, we’ll be able to look back and see just how “good” – if not “perfect” – today really was.