As the snow continues to pile up back home in Minnesnowta, I figured it was best to stay put and reminisce about our week gone by. We saw lots of friendly faces and ate lots of tempting dishes and did lots of relaxating (it is a word in my personal dictionary.) So in an attempt to put off shoveling, I will post some highlights of this past week.
climbing the mountain together 
I’m dreaming of a green New Year’s,
Just like the ones they have down south,
With snow plows inactive,
Bare trees unattractive,
And no scarf to cover my mouth.
I’m dreaming of a green New Year’s,
With every word I sit and write,
Out my window is a sight,
That makes me wonder if it’s right?
I’m dreaming of a green New Year’s,
Am I really home or still in Tennessee?
With sidewalks not slippery,
And winds not even blistery,
I thought white was a January guarantee.
I’m still dreaming of a green New Year’s,
Am I awake or still asleep?
Oh!-- now wait just a minute,
The white stuff just won’t quit it,
And my dreams are causing me to weep.
I’m now experiencing a white New Year’s,
The flakes are falling to and fro,
Getting bigger by the minute,
A shovel, I’ll have to get it,
So much for dreams, here comes the snow.
I've had this ability to blog by phone since March, but I've never taken advantage of this blessing (or curse) of technology.
Why? I don't know yet. But I did it, so now I can put my energies into finding out why.
It’s been awhile since I have had any type of relationship with the blogosphere. Even now I’m feeling guilty as I glance over to an unpacked suitcase. If the kids were up, we could move on to gift-opening and stocking-unstuffing. But for now I wait and procrastinate at the same time.
I did check my email. Maybe someone would send greetings that way this fine morning, I thought. But no. All I found were more ads for things that I neither want nor need. And I found some strange email as a result of someone commenting on my blog. Basically the guy (or gal) was trying to sell me drugs on line. The drug he was offering was one with which I was not familiar. So, of course, I had to do a little research. But anyways, back to where I was going, back to the point I was trying to make, before I totally loose my train of thought, and before the kids awaken, or before my wife summons me to some morning chores, it is (and this is the actual point I am trying to make, in case you get lost in my rather unusual and disjointed sentence structure or lack thereof) very strange how people end up stumbling upon a certain blog. Is it random? Is it serendipitous? Is it fate?
Did you know that if you use AOL and search for something linking armpit lumps and paint fumes you will end up at “Blobjects by Timman?” Of course you will also end up being pointed to “the pooh freak” and “the duke of earl” as well as some legitimate medical sites. But I never would have thought my humble ramblings might be of assistance to someone trying to make that important link in their lives.
And if I keep writing, I will probably see some way that all of this relates to Christmas. It could be that Christmas on many levels doesn’t really make sense. It really is quite a preposterous story. A Creator becoming a creature? Someone wholly other becoming completely intimate with us? A gift-giver becoming the gift?
Well, this should give me something to ponder as I spend 20 plus hours locked up in a relatively small vehicle with three kids and a wife. It could be torture, but I rather hope that it will be a time of sheer joy and harmonious together.
Merry Christmas again.
Come Wednesday, I will have completed one whole month without blogging. Or should that be Tuesday? I get so confused.
And now come to think of it, has this announcement messed up my month-long span? Drats.
I'll have to try harder next month.
And since I'm typing away, too late at night with too little sleep and no sign of Santa anywhere out my window (neither XP or whatever that new one is called), I should wish all of those who still visit this site a very merry and happy and blessed Christmas.
The woman who washes my underwear (and yes dries it too, but doesn’t iron it) has embarked upon her 50th year with this planet. She’s a faithful sort with a heart of gold. So as she travels through life she touches many lives, leaving them happier, healthier, and more whole. It has been my good fortune to have her presence touch my life more often than most. It sounds like this has been a happy day for her so far. And if time permits I might have the chance to make it ever happier. I might, I may, with rapt attention actually read her blog this very day. Sounds like a good investment of my time.Happy birthday, honey!
We had a wonderful evening at some old friends’ house. The occasion was the 25th anniversary of the arrival of a family from Cambodia (Kampuchea). The Soeuns (a.k.a. Kims) were sponsored by our old church Trinity Covenant, and last evening’s party was open to all those who participated in their welcome, tutoring, and general adjustment to a wholly different culture. They came knowing almost no English, and they were continually amazed at the difference between our country and the place from where they came. It was a challenge tutoring them when they first came, ill-equiped as I was. I spent most of my time helping Ken (pronounced “Kane”). It was loads of fun teaching him how to drive a car.
Looking back two and a half decades is sobering. So much has changed, but the connection is as strong as it was then. Their warmth was as real, their smiles were as genuine, and their appreciation was as encouraging. The transition through the years has been remarkably smooth. They are all happily employed and supportive of each other in the family. And to our surprise they even sponsored a nephew and his wife from Cambodia these past 18 months. We got to meet them at the party.
The evening’s focus was primarily on the present and the good things of life, although whenever I see them a part of me remembers the “killing fields” from which they escaped. Koliyan, the oldest daughter, has the most heart-wrenching story of her separation from her family when he was only five and six. But those trials of her early years have helped form her into a very compassion, caring nurse and mother today.
And then there are the egg rolls. I dream about these tasty concoctions. I’ve never found any anywhere that come close to the scrumptiousness of these works of art. No sauce is ever needed. They are perfect by themselves. And I’ll never disclose how many I ate last night. Thank you Soeuns, you have so greatly enriched our lives.
That day that we’ve been anticipating for a long time has finally arrived. The excitement is in the air. People of all persuasions and varieties can join together and be of one mind as we celebrate this day. It might not be Christmas, but the collective gift we receive this special day may rival those that are exchanged at the end of each year.
It is here. Let us celebrate.
The media pronouncements that so many scary and evil people live amongst us has come to an end.
In this month of thanksgiving, let us rejoice.
My life has been full and overflowing of late, so I suppose it’s time for me to record something (permanently?) to help me as I look back on my life.
In response to my dear sister-in-law, yes my daughter is now (finally) employed. And she is working with her two older brothers at a place that they absolutely love, Papa John’s. In high school I too loved pizza (not that I don’t love it now). And I too loved my job at Dominoes delivering pizzas, getting to use my fine navigation skills, trying never to get stumped by an address. I am happy for all of them.
My own venture of late has had some similarities. For I too have been looking for work. In one regard this pursuit has occupied the deep dark recesses of my mind for decades. When one is working physically by one’s self for much of the day, a constant stream of thoughts usually races through one’s mind. At least that’s been my experience.
I’ve joked for years that because of my occupation I’ve developed an addiction to mud, drywall compound that is. I can bring to mind the tastes and smells and feel of that white substance anytime I want. In many regards it’s a huge part of who I am. That stuff is under my fingernails, it’s in my nostrils, and probably too much in my lungs. At least I don’t need to worry about it being in my hair.
But another thing that I think I’ve become addicted to these past years is the comfort and security that this trade has afforded me. Over the past many decades I’ve developed so many contacts and relationships in this field that I’m able to navigate through the challenging and lean times as well as the boom times. Or seen in a different light, God has chosen to bless me in this endeavor for some odd reason. My father likes to talk about the early days of our full time work together in the early 1980s. During those years construction had come to an almost complete stop. My dad was laid off. The union benches were full of unemployed tradesmen. Finding work was near impossible. And I had decided to take a year or two off of school.
As a young kid with relatively few bills, no family to support, and an optimistic ignorance I started my own business in June of 1981. Not knowing how to bid jobs and not needing to make that much money I starting knocking on doors and calling around looking for work. I found enough work to at least pay for my truck and some lingering school loans. When my dad was laid off in the fall we decided to work at this venture together. For almost two years we went day to day not knowing when or where the next job would come from. Was it living by faith or was it an exercise in stupidity? I still wonder, but my dad always sees God’s faithful through those times. Many evenings we would talk at night and tell each other that something might come up in the morning. Or we would go to breakfast at 6:30 or 7:00 not knowing if we had work for the day, come home and find that someone had called. Looking back I don’t remember ever missing a day of work. The phone always rang with something and from the weirdest places.
Things are a lot different today now that I’m “established.” But I think it’s time for that to change. Various and many thoughts and feelings have been floating around inside for too long without being shared. So when time allows, I will write about the bigger picture and probably write about the wonderful time my wife and I had yesterday in southern Minnesota. It was a chance to connect with my past in some rather odd ways.
With sadness I listened to the last radio broadcast of “Desiring God” with John Piper. (He was on locally at 7:30 am. If I was traveling at the time and didn’t need to hear the traffic reports I would click my radio to 980.) He was always passionate about something and always engaging, making it easy on the ears and easy to stay awake. I didn’t always agree with him, especially when he rattled on with his five-point Calvinistic stands on things or presented his view on gender roles in the church, but more often than not I found what he had to say helpful. He always passionately presented his points (poetically?). He does have a great command of the language and on most things, I think his heart is in the right place. He has a genuine concern for the poor and those who live without any hope. I’m going to miss hearing him on radio.
The reason he’s quitting radio, is to focus on distribution by podcast. I think his program ranks in the top three nationally for religious podcasts, and it makes great fiscal sense to not buy airtime. This is definitely a trend in our computer age. I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to subscribe to his free podcasts.
Would my iPod fill up too fast? Would I have to delete some Weird Al to make room for preaching? That would be a dilemma. (And some of you didn’t think I could work Weird Al into three blogs in a row. Ha. Should I go for four?)
I might have a new favorite cut on THE album. Is it the Canadian idiot? Being that I’m surrounded by Canadians and former Canadians here in this North Star State, I better not admit to that. And white I can, to a great degree, relate to “White and Nerdy,” I was never in the glee club nor on the chess team.
The song that is me, or should I say us, is “Trapped in the Drive-Thru.” This epic, which runs longer than 10 minutes (for good reason), is taken directly from the weekly dialogue of me and my wife. I can’t figure out how he did it, but he possibly tapped into our cell phones (he’s an accomplished geek, you know) and transcribed our conversations. He did, however, substitute “Burrito King” for Arby’s in one verse. Other than that it’s pretty accurate.
It is our story. And now it is our song. And now we can now listen to it, all the day long.
I suppose our next obligation is to contact Al (we are his close personal friends, you know) and offer our faces for a possible video of the song. We have been busy this summer and that probably explains why he couldn’t reach us in time to include a video for this song on his just released CD and DVD combo.
Oh well, I am getting pretty hungry now. I better go hunt down my wife and see what she wants to do for brunch.
No, this is not a post about the 1970s ad campaign by Campus Crusade, which featured small white buttons with those three words printed simply on them. It was a well funded campaign and included billboards, maybe radio and TV, along with the ever-present buttons. I remember that it caused some of us to wonder why it was “it” and not “him.” (Or, would it have been better theologically to display something like “He found me” on those buttons?) But that was then and this is now. Living in these early days of the new millennium, I’ve been searching for a different small round object. This one is shiny and has lots of music on it, and from my small sampling has been selling very well. In this autumn of 2006, Weird Al has yet another CD to peddle.
The good news is: I finally found the sought after Weird Al album “Straight outta Lynwood.” Or should I say, it was found for me. After checking my fifth “sold out” retail establishment, I approached one of those geeky kids in the blue and yellow at Best Buy and explained my dilemma. Being the good sport that he was, he felt my pain and came to my rescue. Because the store’s computers were down, he couldn’t easily check the inventory of the other local stores; but he did look up the actual phone number of a nearby store and called them direct. And yes indeed, they had the merchandise. I was in luck (even though I had to drive in the opposite direction of home.)
Long story short, I have the disk. And it is now, as we speak (or should I say as I type), on my iPod. My favorite cut by far is the title track “White and Nerdy,” where he pokes fun at himself for not being able to relate to the gangstas. Both the audio and the video are awesome.
I should have stood in line Tuesday morning at 8 am. For my search this Wednesday evening for Weird Al’s latest CD was in vain. I knew it would be a hot commodity. They were no where to be found.
I should be a buyer for Target or Best Buy. When will these corporate suits give the “weird one” his just due? The man is a genius. A maestro. A national treasure.
He writes the songs that make the whole world sing. He transcends all styles and genres. He is the true uber-musician. The great one. The one that can adapt to any movement in the history of music.
I wonder if his plea on one of the earlier released singles encouraged fans to run and buy his CD instead of downloading it. Entitled “Don’t download this Song,” it tells how pirated music makes it tough for him to pay for his gold-plated Hummer and his diamond lined swimming pool. So go out and buy it, like you know you should. But shop someplace far from where I pick up my goods.
I can hardly contain myself. I’m literally shaking now as I type. I’m experiencing euphoria on a level I haven’t experienced in years. (I’m sorry this is not related to the fact that my lovely wife arrived home from a weekend retreat this afternoon.) I just finished laughing myself to tears. My belly was jiggling enough to completely digest my entire supper and I think there’s probably now room enough for two types of pie now available in our kitchen.
I was fully engaged in my latest addiction, wikipedia. It’s kind of like surfing the net only in a more civilized uniform form. (As I’ve mentioned before, this encyclopedia seriously dwarfs Britanica, World Book, Colliers, and the unabridged Oxford Dictionary combined.) I forget now where I started, by I ended up on the entry for one of my favorite artists, Weird Al Yankovic. In reading about him it said that his most recent album was released on September 26, 2006. What??? But today’s only the 24th. Do I really have to wait two more days for the actual release? Boy are these next two days going to drag by! I suppose that I will have to be camped outside my local Best Buy or Target come Tuesday morning at 8 am.
In doing a little more digging, I found that at least two of the videos from the album are already available on line at www.youtube.com. (What a wonderful cyber-world we live in.) I watched “White and Nerdy” and “Don’t Download this Song” multiple times. I shared my joy with my wife and daughter. And now I’m thinking about requiring my son to come home early so he too can feast his eyes on this musical delight. A dad’s got to do what a dad’s got to do.
Please pray that I will be able to sleep tonight.
Monday night was a challenge. Tuesday night was great. The first school night of the week began and ended with my daughter struggling through a paper on worldviews. She had to give a summary of the views of three figures that dominated the thinking of the 20th century, namely Marx, Freud, and Darwin. I wrestled with trying to help her, giving her a balanced representation of these three without actually writing her paper. But it was tough. Finally at about 11:00 I needed to go to bed. She needed a conclusion. So I told her to write: “But, what do I know, I’m only 16.”
I thought it was a great ending to a so-so paper. However, her teacher did not think so. He was quite upset and threatened to have her re-write the paper. So you can guess who got his behind chewed Tuesday afternoon. But Tuesday night made up for the earlier attack.
At the Porch for our weekly Bible Discussion Group, we attempted to finish off Joshua, putting him to rest with a quick read of the last three chapters. But it was not to be. We started and ended with chapter 22. Part of the reason for the delay was the fact that a few in the group are well versed in their Hebrew and are able to give us translations for the meanings of some of the original names and places. This brought us into discussion about some of the bizarre religious rituals and practices of the Canaanites. Well, one thing led to another, and with only one female among our group of 12, the discussion turned into a laugh-fest full of double entendres and lots of bad guy humor.
But amongst the “fun,” we were struck by the power of this part of the story. Believe it or not, suspicion and misunderstanding reigned on the west side of the Jordan River (and probably both sides.) The eastern two and a half tribes wanted to build something for the kids and grandkids, so that future generations would remember what happened “way back when.” The western 9 and ½ (rounded up to 10) became suspicious of what those other folks were up to and made plans to wipe them out. They thought that those on the other side of the river had resorted back to some nasty Canaanite practices. But fortunately, the west-bankers got the full picture before they wiped out their kin.
So out of our belly laughs and snide comments (or maybe in spite of them) came an encouraging word. We were painted a great picture of an ancient people, “being people,” but reconciling before any heads rolled. I guess in most cases it’s easier to make peace with someone while their head is still getting nourishment from below.
I do love the O.T. (i.e. Hebrew Bible or Torah or Tanach or earlier testament, for my more enlightened friends). It’s not as tame as we like to think.
Tuesday night took me back many years to my days sitting in certain Hebrew and O.T. classes taught by a guy that would get so excited over the great stories. He was an old, tall, lanky fellow that frequently got in trouble for the way he taught these stories and for the comments that he made. His constant immersion in these texts often put him at odds with the powers that be and what was “proper” at the time. But he was great at giving us an appetite for these books that Jesus read.
First IBM ruled the digital world. Then Microsoft took over. Not too much later, it was Google that made a huge splash. Now is it the Wiki Foundation's turn?
I’m sure that many, like me, have increasing turned to wikipedia for quick answers to what or who or how or where on a variety of topics. Each time I visit the site I’m blown away by the breadth of its capacity. Today I was doing a google search for a local Minneapolis radio station. And behold, one of the top suggestions led me to wikipedia. This ever-present expansive encyclopedia had multiple pages on this local (not-that-popular) radio station, describing its history, philosophy, and relation to the Twin Cities market. Is there anything that’s not included in this behemoth?
I’ve been running into this site with ever greater frequency of late. It touches on literally everything. And now I’ve been reading about how they plan to expand into numerous other endeavors: including a wiki-dictionary, a wiki-library, a wiki-university, wiki-quotes, wiki-news, and wiki-whatever else you can think of. And now they even plan on having a non-wiki type wiki-encyclopedia where only “experts” will have access to its content. I suppose this is in response to wiki gone wild feeling that many have.
I had breakfast last week with a group of guys from “the Porch.” A good number of the guys, as far as I could tell, were academicians. Sitting directly across from me was a professor at a local college. He was bantering back and forth with another gentleman about movies they have recently seen. As part of the attempts at humor they were pretending to be real sticklers about sources for their information. In response to one query, the professor across from me (with tongue planted firmly in cheek) blurted out that his authority on the matter was wikipedia. From the round of laughs I could sense the distain that probably exists around this website as a legitimate source for information (at least among some in this group).
Not sensing a similar backlash on most construction sites, I’ve been personally unaware of this possible prevailing attitude. But I’m sure the wiki people are in tune to it. And that’s probably why they’ve introduced something called “Citizendium,” which I just read about this afternoon. In an attempt to raise the bar of legitimacy I’m assuming that the wiki-meisters are looking at ways to still promote their open sourced philosophy while at the same time build in “safe guards” (and with it a higher reputation) for those looking for gravitas (how’s that for a throw back to the 2000 election and a fine example of a run-on sentence.)
So it seems as though wiki is mutating quite well these days and will soon take over a good chunk of our cyber lives. Then we will all know what we all need to know.
I’m even now starting to question why I didn’t drive around looking for a wiki-church this Sunday morning. I guess they still have their work cut out for them.
For those of you who know my daughter, you know that she talks a lot. (That is why, in part, that she has a boyfriend who, to my knowledge, has yet to speak a word. And that is why, in part, I blog. It just doesn’t make sense for me to get a word in edge wise around here.) And while she talks a lot, she’s probably known more for the very high volume of sound she can create. And she has no mute button. Nor have I been able to find a volume switch. Very loud is all she knows. Very loud and very often describe the sounds that bounce off our walls each evening now that she is not hanging out with her boyfriend and absent.
She was in the middle of a diatribe this evening which she was sharing with all of our neighbors to the east and south (those were the windows that were open.) Some people worry about their pets disturbing the neighbors. We have greater concerns.
I tried to break in to her monologue to encourage her to whisper. I kept motioning for her to bring it down, bring it down. When she finally told me that she was whispering, I came to the realization that her whispers are louder than my shouts. And I always thought that rock music and jet airplanes were two of the worst things for the eardrums.
Well, the next two days we are getting a reprieve. She is on her way with her school to Wisconsin for a “bonding, get to know each other” time at some camp. I thought I should give a fair warning to all our friends to the east. I might still have a little cotton left in my supply if you let me know soon enough. Your ears will thank you.
