James Dobson has done it again

Almost every morning while I am getting ready for work, I check out CNN’s home page.  I don’t love the writing, but it’s a fairly good source for the latest goings on.

This morning, I was aghast at a story about how James Dobson questioned Fred Thompson’s christianity.  The article can be found here if you are interested in reading it.

Jim, I know it’s highly unlikely that you’ll ever read my blog.  But, as I said a few months ago, I would really like to have a conversation with you sometime.  In this instance, I have no feelings one way or another about Fred Thompson’s politics; I’ve not researched him enough to know.  I do know, however, that neither you nor anyone else can know what Mr. Thompson believes.  Nothing gives you the right to make such a statement.  How ’bout you check out the seventh chapter of Matthew again?

Elevator Confessions – An Unintentionally Reoccurring Theme

Before you start, I know the word is recurring.  But because I’ve heard Jennie say on several occasions that it is a common error that irritates her, I couldn’t resist.

Anyway, when I stepped in the elevator yesterday morning and reached to push the button for my floor, I was astonished to see some sort of gunk covering almost the entire button.  It was white and, when I first noticed it, I thought it was cake frosting.  I couldn’t figure out why, so early in the morning, someone would have been eating cake.  On closer examination, though, I realized that it was somewhat translucent, more like mayonnaise than frosting.  Whatever, the main part of the gunk was roughly the size and shape of a chocolate chip.  But the person who left the little gem had also managed to smear the substance across the rest of the button.  I later considered it a little more and it could have been hand lotion.

Still, who does that?  Is it not common decency, if you deposit some unknown mass in a place so readily utlized by the general public, to go ahead and wipe it off?  People, it’s not the same thing as putting used gum or boogers under your high school desk.  If someone puts their hand under a high school desk, they know that nothing good resides there and they get what they get.  An elevator button is unavoidable.  Please, let’s display a little decorum.

Limitations – Waiting for 01/20/09

Does it make anyone else sad that our experience of knowing other people in life is limited to those we encounter through family, friends, and, possibly, colleagues? I’m not even sure how to articulate my sadness on this point. I simply know that there are many people in the world whom I will never know. People who have interesting stories and backgrounds, people with whom I would genuinely like to sit and share a beer. Don’t misunderstand; I have great family and friends. I really do. I just wonder who else is out there that I will never meet and who could enrich my life.

I think of that now because, last evening, I met the fiancee of a friend. He (the fiancee) happens to be from England. Great guy. I enjoyed talking to him in general; he has an easy going manner that makes people feel comfortable.

We discussed a wide range of topics including British history, American history, the two countries’ governments, movies, and travel. But the thing that I found most interesting, while at the same time disheartening, is his opinion about the world’s perception of America. He said that, in his experience, the reputation of the United States is inestimably damaged since Clinton left the White House. This is coming from someone who lives in the country said to be the greatest ally of the U.S.

From what I’ve read, I agree with his opinion. In fact, I’ve known it’s true for a while; our discussion just shed some light on it. I could list all the reasons I think it’s true, but I’m just tired. I’m worn out with it and am resigned to impatiently wait for January 20, 2009.

Thank God for renewal

As those of you who live in central Arkansas know, Spring graced Little Rock with her presence last week. Even though she announced herself at or around the time appointed for her arrival on our calendar, I was pleasantly surprised, upon my return to Little Rock after being out of town for a week, to find trees, which barely had buds a week earlier, with almost fully developed leaves. Arkansas is infinitely more appealing when its many deciduous trees emerge from their winter abscission and again don their green clothing of spring and summer.

Likewise, the azaleas, residing in the flower beds in front of our house, are basically in full bloom. I love the pink and purple conical blooms of our azaleas. Those marvelous little bushes produce beautiful flowers each spring with almost no work on my part. Essentially, the only thing I do for them is give them some water during the hot, dry months of July and August.

Unfortunately, along with the tree leaves and the azalea blooms, Spring also brought with her a sticky green/yellow layer of pollen. Weird stuff, pollen. I’m not sure why, like some people, trees and plants feel it is necessary to indiscriminately spread their DNA. Regardless, everything not protected by a roof was covered in the stuff. Even Sadie, our beagle, took on a green tint after spending several hours outside Sunday afternoon. It was especially apparent on her back which is normally black. I suppose she had, in keeping with her normal behavior, been smelling around under some of the bushes in our backyard and the pollen rubbed off on her. Gladly, we’ve had a little rain over the past couple of days. It washed away most of the pollen.

Even more than the trees, azaleas and other flowers around Little Rock, the pollen made me consider Spring and the cycle of life. I’m serious when I question what underlying force moves the trees and plants to spread their DNA and reproduce every year. I know the reproduction sustains the various species, and life in general. But they have no awareness of that reality. Unlike people, they aren’t aware of anything. Are we to just believe that life finds a way? I hardly find that to be a rational explanation.

In the end, I am in utter amazement of Spring and her part of the annual cycle that really never ends or begins, but just continues. Even with our modern understanding of the seasonal processes, the miraculous and seemingly rapid changes simply astonish me. With that in mind, I can easily understand why many religions have traditionally observed religious holidays or festivals around the time of seasonal changes. I know that I certainly see God in the seasons. Even though Autumn remains my favorite season, I especially see God in Spring when everything is fresh and renewed.

I learned a new word today

I went to a liberal arts college.  That fact is important because I had to take humanities classes to graduate, some of which discussed architecture.  But I hadn’t heard the word narthex, until I read it on Stephanie’s blog today.  By saying that she is stuck in the narthex, she used it metaphorically to describe her feelings about church attendance. 

Gothic cathedrals are one of the places that I personally feel God’s presence greatest.  Partially because of that, I love the mental picture Stephanie painted of someone standing in a narthex, trying to decide if they want to, or should, enter the nave, or exit through one of the huge doors.  It was a wonderful, simple way to describe complex emotions and thoughts.

By the way Stephanie, I’m stuck there too.

A Haiku

White crane flys above
Green trees mirrored in river
Spring proclamation

Spring Break

I’ll be out of town the next few days.

Carry on bravely without me.  I know it will be difficult.

Quandary

I sent an email to a friend this morning.  When I did, I pulled his email address out of my computer’s address book and happened to look at the other addresses it contains.  At what point do you delete old and unused addresses?  There are a few people I haven’t emailed literally in years.  There is even the address of one person who died a while back. 

For now, I decided to keep the addresses around as sort of a strange connection to the past.

And now for something completely different…

I know the Razorbacks don’t play until late Friday. But since the tournament starts tomorrow, I want to go ahead and say Go Hogs!

They match up well against USC. I think they have a good chance of pulling off an upset, and shutting up all the talking heads who have said they don’t belong in the field of 65. It would be the perfect vindication for Stan Heath, too. Even though I was really frustrated with him a few times this season when he seemingly couldn’t motivate his talent-filled, under-performing team, I’ve always liked Stan. I think he has handled the pressure of this season very well. Whether or not they win a game or (can I dream) two in the NCAA tournament, I think he deserves another year.

“24″ as Cultural Barometer – Part 2

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post about an article in The New Yorker titled “Whatever it Takes” about the television show “24.” I won’t repeat what I said in that post. If you are interested, you can read my post here.

I mention that now because my post and the comments it elicited are the reason for this post. At the time I am writing this, there are actually only three comments. Each comment essentially says that “24″ is just a show. I happen to know and deeply respect the three people who commented, but I also happen to disagree with them on this particular topic. I am not saying it’s true of any of the people who commented, but to think that art cannot, or does not, have political ambitions is naïve at best and dangerous at worst. Consider the following works, each of which have clear political motivations.

Guernica by Picasso. It is one of my favorite paintings. I’m certain that most people are familiar with the painting and know that Picasso painted it in response to the Nazi fire bombing of the Basque town of the same name. There has been much speculation over the years about the possibly symbolic images found in the painting, particularly the depictions of a horse and a bull. But for all the symbolism and abstracts found throughout his paintings, I like to think that Picasso titled Guernica purposefully so that we do not mistake his indictment of the death and brutality suffered by civilians that he so skillfully, and beautifully, painted. Since Franco expressed desire to have the painting return to Spain, I like that Picasso intentionally poked a finger in the dictator’s eye by refusing to have the painting displayed in Spain until a republic was restored. His actions reinforce his political intent in creating the painting.

Schindler’s List, directed by Steven Spielberg. It’s not one of my favorite movies because it is so gut wrenching, but it is an important movie. If you have seen it, then you know that there are many brutal moments. The worst, for me, is the scene where Spielberg shows a pile of bodies and casually stacked in the pile is the body of a little girl. Her body is still wrapped in the red coat that she was seen wearing a few scenes before when she was full of life, apparently oblivious to the horrors that surrounded her. I’ve no idea if Spielberg pioneered the dramatic use of a color image in an otherwise all black and white film, but I’ve seen it copied since. Each time, I found it trite because I was reminded of Spielberg’s little girl in a red coat. It’s an image that I believe I will never forget.

“We are the World” by USA for Africa. When I think about politically motivated songs, I immediately think of many artists from Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger to Bob Dylan to U2 to Pearl Jam and Green Day. But “We are the World” also always comes to mind. It holds a somewhat special place in my memory because, way back in the 80s when 45s were still popular, it is one of the first singles I purchased. I’ve no idea how much money the supergroup made for famine relief in Ethiopia. But I do know that the song made me aware of the Ethiopian famine. In fact, it made me aware that the world into which I was born has some major problems. I don’t like that it took a group of spoiled pop singers to do that, but it’s true.

I chose my three examples intentionally because the political message associated with each of them is, unless you happen to be a tyrant, impossible to dispute. No one with a soul agrees that bombing of civilians, genocide, or needless starvation should occur.

Now, let’s turn to “24.” As with my examples above, the show has a political message. The general message of the show is that the brand of freedom enjoyed in the United States should be celebrated and protected. That message is one with which everyone agrees, at least those people who love freedom. In that regard, I agree with the political message of the show. I’m glad that I have never had to do it, but I am eternally grateful that others have protected, and continue to protect, the freedoms that I enjoy.

The issue that I have with the political message of “24″ is that it goes further and suggests that, not only should freedom be protected, it should be protected at all costs, no matter whose individual freedoms are endangered. I’ve never agreed with the reasoning by which it is okay to compromise an individual’s rights so long as it serves the greater good, and I don’t agree with it when fictionalized on “24.”  When Jack Bauer chooses to put his own life in danger by, for instance, flying a ticking nuclear bomb from downtown Los Angeles to the middle of the Mojave desert, that is one thing. When he chooses to trample on others’ rights, that is something else entirely.

In the political climate we find ourselves in today – one of torture at Abu Graib, secret CIA prisons, and aggressive, preemptive wars – I think “24″ is incendiary. The world watches it and sees it as an extension and endorsement of the policy of protecting the United States at all costs, even when individual rights must be compromised. One of the things at the very core of our great country and one of the reasons that I love this country is that individual rights are protected, no matter what the individual happens to believe. We have a constitution and approximately 200 years of jurisprudence to insure those rights. I simply do not agree with any work of art that undermines those things.

The bottom line is that I’m not trying to convince anyone that they shouldn’t watch “24.” As I said in my previous post, I quit the show for reasons totally unrelated to politics. I just wanted to explain why I do not agree with the political message.

Words Matter

Recently, a friend and co-worker has had a disheartening experience.  He happens to be Jewish, a fact which I normally wouldn’t mention but it is important in light of his experience.  His son, who is enrolled at a local junior high, has recently been sick and has missed a few days of school.  When my friend’s wife picked up some of the assignments his son had missed, she noticed that one of the assignments required students to write three paragraphs proving that the Holocaust occurred.

My friend was understandably upset by the, at best, insensitive and sloppy phrasing of the question.  When he wrote an email to his son’s teacher and pointed out that the question implies that the Holocaust may not have occurred, the teacher’s response was cavalier and defensive (he sent a copy to me to read); she said that my friend had overreacted and implied that it was merely a semantical misunderstanding.  For her own self preservation and even if she thought that my friend had overreacted, I am unclear why the teacher didn’t simply apologize, and agree to change the phrasing of the question.

Regardless, my friend replied to the teacher’s response with an even stronger email that requested a meeting with her, the school’s principal, and the school board.  I think he responded appropriately, and I wish him well.

I tell that story to set the background to share a portion of the email that my friend’s wife, after a day’s reflection, wrote to the teacher.  I found it inspiring, wholly true, and will remember it as a reason to be careful when choosing my words in the future:

“You may dismiss this as a minor question of semantics.  It is semantics.  Everything is.  Our language is how we communicate our thoughts and feelings.  Language is everything.  How words are put together can be the difference between a great school assignment that is thought provoking, and one which raises the ire of some parents, and hurts them deeply.  Semantics and language gave us the speeches of great leaders like Martin Luther King Jr., and the horrific commands of Adolf Hitler.  Words matter, and your word choice was sloppy at best, Anti-Semitic at worst.”

Unbelievable

While I was at a lunch-hour work meeting today, it happened again. A virtual stranger asked me if Jennifer and I plan to have kids anytime soon. To see my thoughts on this subject, please see this post I wrote a few months ago.

Because it was a work meeting, I couldn’t just be rude about it. But I would have liked to. I’ve decided that is the approach I’m taking in the future when possible.

Marathon Advertising

I don’t run for exercise. As a matter of fact, I hate it. I prefer to get my exercise in a gym where the climate is controlled. Even there, I don’t use the treadmill.

I’ve hated running since I was in junior high. Because of the limited number of coaches at my school, I had to participate in track each spring if I wanted to play basketball. I have never possessed blazing speed. At that time, though, I was relatively fast enough to have some success at middle distance races like 400 and 800 meters. Because there were only a few of us who ran middle distance, the coaches weren’t sure where to place us. We worked out three days a week with the sprinters and two days a week with the distance runners. I hated the distance running days the most because it usually involved running some silly road route around Berryville.

Each route had a stupid name, tied to some geographical feature on the route, like “Saunder’s Drive” or “Duncan Mountain.” I cannot remember the name of the route I hated most. But if I were so inclined, I could go back to my school and run it today. It wasn’t particularly long compared to some routes – I’d guess approximately 5 miles. Also unlike some, it had the advantage of being fairly flat. But the worst part about the route was that, near the end, it led each person along the street directly in front of one of Berryville’s largest employers, the Tyson chicken plant.

Running in front of an industrial plant of any kind may seem fairly benign. I suppose that would be true of sprinting past a plant if, say, I were running from a robber. But at the end of a road route, when I was out of breath and gasping for air, the last thing that I wanted to smell, up close and personal, was chicken fat being rendered. It turned my stomach every time. It was all I could do to keep from vomiting.

As I almost always do when I think about running, I thought about the Tyson chicken plant in Berryville while on my way to work this morning. While I was driving, I saw some mile markers, left over from this past weekend’s Little Rock marathon, which I can only guess were intended to encourage or inform the runners of their progress along the way. The one that really grabbed my attention was number 21. It was, or perhaps still is, posted in Rebsamen park. The thing I noticed about mile marker 21 is that, below the huge 21, the name Landers Toyota was printed in smaller black and white font.

I have absolutely nothing against Landers Toyota. I honestly appreciate them for supporting the marathon. I think it’s a good event for Little Rock. But if I were running a marathon, I have to believe that, when I came upon mile marker 21 and realized that I still had 5 miles to go, I would absolutely lose my mind if the marathon organizers tried to push some local car dealership by placing its name on a mile marker. I would only want to know the most important thing at hand – how much longer do I have to push my body beyond all reasonable expectation?

It’s probably standard practice for marathons to place sponsors’ names wherever they can find room. I just found it a little ridiculous.

Dickson Street Bookshop

The Dickson Street Bookshop is one of my favorite places on earth. It is located in Fayetteville, Arkansas. The building that houses it occupies an oddly shaped lot on the corner of Dickson Street and School Avenue. The exterior is unassumingly constructed of red brick. The entrance is a single glass door. On it, the bookstore’s name is stenciled in white paint. An old cowbell is tied to the inside handle of the door so that, each time someone leaves or enters, it is announced with a muffled clang.

The bell is incongruous with the interior of the store where, out of respect for other book lovers, everyone speaks, if at all, in hushed tones. Normally, the only audible sound is that of the relatively high quality sound system. If the owner is in the store, he tunes the radio to the local NPR station. If he is not there, one of the many college kids he employs, who all take themselves too seriously, usually plays something of his or her choice. On Sunday afternoons over the years, for instance, when the owner is never in the store, I’ve often heard music I easily recognize like REM, The Smiths, Mazzy Star, The Shins, or Beck. But they are often playing something that I do not recognize, something I’m sure they think that I could never appreciate or understand. I immediately forgive them, though. I’ve walked in their shoes.

Sometimes, I browse. Sometimes, I look for books I don’t already own by my favorite authors. When I happened to be in Fayetteville last weekend, for example, I bought two first edition, Annie Dillard books. Sometimes, I walk among the stacks and shelves and simply smell the old book smell.

I also like to walk around the store, and intentionally act as if I am looking for an author’s book immediately in front of where someone is standing with an open book in their hands. Everyone reacts differently when I politely ask them to move. They are all nice about the inconvenience; some are apologetic, some simply step out of the way.

I love all of the following things about the store: the section of children’s books arranged by author on a shelf that is low enough to the floor to allow children to easily browse; the whole room full of paperbacks which are mostly around $1.00 each; the rolling ladders, which don’t have signs warning the public not to use them, used to reach the top shelves; and the random, unmatched chairs spread throughout the store for people to sit and read.

I also love that, when checking out, the person, who happens to be working, calculates the tax and total price on a hand calculator, not a cash register. I love that the same person writes down which books were purchased on a clipboard and that, with each purchase, they place a bookmark, bearing the Dickson Street Bookshop’s name and address, inside the front cover.

But the thing that I love the most about the Dickson Street Bookshop is that, instead of using price tags or bar codes, the store’s owner simply writes, in pencil, the price of each book inside the back cover. Think about that, his bookstore holds literally thousands of books, maybe hundreds of thousands, and he has looked at each book and personally priced them. I would recognize his handwriting, at least his handwritten numbers, anywhere.

I know that the Dickson Street Bookshop isn’t the best used bookstore on earth. But it’s my favorite. Still, I know there are other great stores that are similar to it. Since I’ve moved from Fayetteville, I’ve often been guilty of going directly to Barnes and Noble when I want to buy a book. I know for a fact that there is a used bookstore less than five minutes from my house. I’ve never gotten in the habit of going there. I’m going to make a concerted effort to do that in the future.

a bound(less) response to (red)

I think the (red) campaign is great, especially the exposure the campaign provides.  I even have one of the shirts from Gap.  I would buy another if I found one in a color I liked.  That said, I really like that, in response to the (red) campaign, an organization has set up a website called Buy (Less) Crap where people can donate to worthy organizations without purchasing stuff.  Besides, they were fairly clever with their website design; it’s a nice parody of the (red) campaign.  I think that such a parody alone is a sign of the (red) campaign’s success.  Anyway, you can check it out at buy(less) crap.org.