Uncle Screwtape

I have turned to an old worn copy of "The Screwtape Letters" about every ten years. I am reading it now. There is a passage that never caught my attention in my thirties or forties. The senior temptor, Screwtape, opines on the weight of aging and prosperity on the demonic quest for souls....

"Prosperity knits a man to the World. He feels that he is "finding his place in it, " while really it is finding its place in him. His increasing reputation, his widening circle of acquaintances, his sense of importance, the growing pressure of absorbing and agreeable work, build up in him a sense of being really at home on Earth, which is just what we want. You will notice that the young are generally less unwilling to die than the middle-aged and the old."

One year later, still the world's worst coffee

Captain Jack's snack bar. Helena, Montana Airport. A weak brown beverage that smells like coffee but always tastes like it is simply last night's leftover with water added. Great service. $2.50 for a large.

On the plus side, saw antelope and a bald eagle while driving around outside the city.

Finally - getting rid of old LP's

I have about 50 old LP albums in my basement. Down from a hundred or so. Some of the last ones that I can't bring myself to throw away.

Over the weekend elton john made it real easy to get rid of my last two of his. Somewhere in a Minnesota landfill lie "dont shoot me i'm only the piano player" and "captain fantastic".

In the middle of winter, a reminder of summer

 Next week, Feb. 17-18, 2010. Pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training. 

Paper cups and parking lots, dogs, and refugees from Naminara

I spent several days last week in the hometown one of my six nieces, Lauren, the one farthest away. Seoul. A great adventure in a great city with a most excellent niece. One who is a great wanderer of the planet and shows her warmth and hospitality in all she does. I loved playing with Lauren and her siblings when they were very little. With all my nieces and nephews I think I avoided contact during the high school years. Bonding with uncles is the last thing on their list, and dealing with teenage angst, outside my nuclear family, is last on mine. I think I stayed a few steps beyond their sphere of awareness from around age 13 until they left for college and became human again. Time to reconnect.

Our last day in Seoul had to be the best. We met at Anguk Station around 9 and took a 90 minute bus ride to catch a ferry to Naminara Island. There we ate a great meal that we cooked at our table over a small charcoal pit. Pork, several types of kimchi, rice and a variety of vegetable dishes. Her boyfriend, Han Joo, never let us down as he ordered one dish after another over several days and immersed us in the full Korean dining experience. Our day in Naminara included great food, a small music museum, lots of photos, strolls down wide gravel avenues bordered by tall pines and a saxophone rendition of "My Way".

Lauren's love for the Korean people and the plight of those to the north, shows continually. An english teacher by day and freedom fighter by night. Hers is not an in-your-face self-righteous indignation but a determined commitment to take one step each day to draw these oppressed deeper into her heart. She serves them by keeping the public aware that many are imprisoned or perhaps, at that moment, fleeing south. She is ready to talk about it, or not talk about it, but the sense of purpose is very clear. It's easy to simply shrug off her work as one of the many "stories" of our family, until you see her in her place. When you walk the avenues of Seoul and hear her describe her work in her own words, in her voice, you cannot help but be changed. Her description of our day together is much better than mine and can be found by clicking here

The day wrapped up with another good meal inside one of Seoul's infamous "Love Motels". During the meal I caught something, my hands started itching and this has since turned into a major rash over my hands and ankles. It looks a little like poison ivy and I probably got it on the island. A little reminder of Korea to carry with me. As Rob and I stepped into a cab we gave her our last hugs for a while. It was hard to say goodbye, which is as it should be.

Double Happiness

One bargain I can never pass up. I don't smoke, but when the revolution comes these will be gold.

Easily exchangeable for a meal, a motel room for a night, safe passage into Canada.

$8 a carton in Seoul. Downside is my wife thinks I am a bad person for buying them. However, if she knew me like I know me she would realize this... if the Lord gave her a list of the things wrong with me, hoarding cheap cigarettes would be near the bottom of the list.

Seoul Men

One quick day in Hong Kong and 5 big ones in Seoul.

Korea, the economic horse of Asia that never seems to be top of mind. Thousands of years of history that for Americans begins and ends with the Korean War. One step into any Korean museum and you immediately sense that any understanding of Korea you had before was very very inadequate.

My trip was made whole by the presence of my son. I grew up with brothers but spend most of my days surrounded by wife and daughters. Since he left home several years ago I have lived in a female dominated household, a stranger in a strange land. When he shows up it's like the cavalry has arrived, rescuing me from a world I do not understand.

While his sisters took fatherhood in wonderful directions I didn't expect, he made it what I always thought it would be. Playing catch, football practice, fishing, mowing the lawn, afternoons at the ballpark, adventure movies, cub scouts, minor vehicle accidents, and all the other father/son stuff. There was of course the less pleasant things like falling into trouble at school and various escapades when the parents were out of the house. As time passes I remember less and less of his misdeeds, though his sisters are quick to remind me.

We don't see each other often but when we do, you will find us doing very predictable things. Guy stuff that helps me keep my head. Such as twenty minutes ago, when we were huddled around his computer screen at Narita Airport, trying to get the SuperBowl score. No broadcast of the game here, and so much for customer focus in the Delta Sky Club.

I was in HK and Seoul for business and Rob joined me. Traveling with grown children is different, but in a good way. Hard to step out of the parent role and just have a good time. If I had a thousand korean won for every time I asked him if he had his passport.... you know the rest. I guess though it's a good sign that after the first night of running around with his ex-pat cousin, I stopped asking him where he was or what he was doing.

Father and son traveling together to a far off place neither have been to. A trip everyone thinks about but few get a chance to actually do. In some ways it was like the travels with my daughters but also different. Simpler. Less planning. A bit more about learning and a bit less about shopping. A bit more about exploring and a bit less about what we will wear that day. A little more connected to the sports and news of home.

So what's all this rambling about? I suppose that just about every major dream I ever had for my kids has been realized. When I think about what I expected when I first got married and what my family is like today, I am only pleased and proud and with no complaints. He is a big part of that, because he is the one I could relate to the most, as a man and former boy. Our conversations on the trip finally have time for some of the deep stuff of life, topics that I suspect women fall into routinely, but men seldom do. We do it when time permits or circumstances of life demand, but not as part of our routine. We also talk about the normal day to day events. Work, sports, weather, food, sports, markets. He's going through some of the same things I did when I was his age, but is doing it better. He's staking out his career and place in life with more thought. He plans and thinks things through better than I did. When he was little I noted often how tough he seemed. Not in a negative or bullying way. But in a way that says "I will stand my ground", or "I will reach that goal". It's a determination and strength of purpose that I did not have at his age.  

While he is going through many of the same things that I did when first out on my own, I know a lot is different. I try hard to hold back the advice, since it is rarely something he hasn't thought of before (the same holds true for his sisters) Different people, different times, different circumstances, different answers.

Our sentences are short but carry the weight of meaning that comes from twenty plus years of conversation. It's a code that has changed little over the years. It is some of the very best talking and listening that I do.

I traveled a lot with this kid, to many wonderful places. Fishing in Alaska, to the rim of the Grand Canyon, surprise flights to Grandmother's, family vacations with cousins to Colorado, day trips to Chicago. This first trip with the man was the best of all. 

the author of the worst book i ever read is dead.............

When I was thirteen I read "catcher in the rye". I wasted at least a semester of my life trying to be as depressed as the lead character, henry something. He is survived by a dwindling army of 60ish, still-depressed,  junior high english teachers.

One parade ends, another begins

Around 1983 I attended the first school program for one of my children. Rachel would have been almost three. I don't remember the date but I remember sitting with other young parents for a series of songs or nursery rhymes at a preschool in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. We were the parents whose daughter was not only proudly up on the stage but also was singled out as being the first to know her ABC's and the sounds of all the letters.

I remember thinking at the time that it was the beginning of a long road of school programs and that my life would no doubt be very different at the last one than it was for the first one. Last night was one of those last programs. A choir concert. I love watching Caroline sing, even when I can't pick out her voice. No one I know shows an expression of joy in singing like she does. No one that I have ever seen. When she sings it fills her heart, her voice, her face, her hands.

Over the years I have been priviledged to watch my children on a parade of accomplishments and activities. Sometimes as one of the best in class, sometimes simply doing what they loved. Baseball, football, acting. Piano recitals, skits, public speaking. Band concerts, scouts, Indian Princess and Indian Guides. Nothing compares with watching them do what they love..

Last night was a reminder that the long string of school performances is drawing to a close. How many are left? A couple more this year, a half dozen next, and then gone. No more rushing to the school or a ball park from work.  No more waiting through all the others for my child's turn to perform. No more checking off items on school programs. It is almost over.

But the really fascinating stuff is just starting. Things I won't usually see. Day by day work to become "all that God intends for them to be", a big phrase made up of countless hourly and daily pieces. To be great workers and ponderers of problems carving out a way to earn their living. Turning some of this creative stuff we have into something they can exchange for a meal, or four walls, or a smile from a loved one. Perhaps they'll do this as spouses and parents, watching their own up on stage. Regardless of how it happens I know they'll fall into some of the same joys and mistakes and pains that I did, and probably invent some new ways of suffering and celebrating along the way. 

I expect that each of them will do a lot to guide others through this life. Sharing what they've been given. This long parade of programs has been wondrous, some of the real stuff of life, but also practice. Practice for the real show, where they write the program, and they decide what act comes next. The grand parade, on the stage that matters, and the performance that counts.

Stars and Stripes

This is a picture of my church, which I copied from another website. I love this place. Click on the picture and you'll see the American flag, on the front stage to the speakers right from the podium. That is the subject of this post.

I don't like national or state flags in my church, or any church, or any country's flag in any Christian house of worship. This has been bugging me for years and I'm surprised I haven't written about it before.

Hear me out and think about this. A church building exists for one purpose, to bring glory to God. It does not exist to bring glory to governments or temporal leaders of this world. What does the flag have to do with this? How does honoring a country glorify God?

I live in the United States and I think most people in the world would recognize that the US has done many, many good works. More than most countries, probably any country, since its inception. It has fed more hungry, clothed more of the naked and freed more of the oppressed. The message of Christ is spread in many parts of the world because Americans have died for their freedom, including freedom of religion all over the world. So what's my problem with the flag?

The flag on the stage says to me that somehow we connect our citizenship with our worship of Christ in this building. While I don't for a minute think anyone believes that being an American brings one closer to Christ we do seem to have this sense that our country is somehow special in the eyes of God. Does that mean that someone in our church who is a citizen of Iceland or New Zealand must pay homage not only to Christ but also to this country, and this flag, to fully participate in our worship? Of course not. So why is it there?

Jesus doesn't seem to have given a lot of thought to countries. No one can read his "render unto Caesar" statement and get the impression that Rome had anything to do with salvation or was entitled to the total allegiance of the citizens of his day. His thoughts about governments and citizenship merely instruct us to be good citizens.

There is of course a different perspective. Maybe the flag is there as a way showing gratitude to God for the blessings bestowed on this country. Thank you God, that we live in America. Of course if you turn that around it also means, thank you God that I don't live in Jordan, or Cuba, or Scotland. What about churches in Cuba that put their national flag in their church, and pray as we do, "thank you God for all the blessings you have bestowed on Cuba and keep our leaders safe and in your care". What is our attiitude toward that prayer and their flag? It's a hard one to wrestle with.

At times of war we view our allegiance to God and country as almost one and the same, as do the Christians on the other side of the battlefield. This is of course an observation that is as old as my religion. 

I think for every Christian, regardless of political philosophy there are times when your view of the world as a follower of Christ comes into conflict with the policies of your government. Our allegiance to Christ is paramount. Our allegiance to a country doesn't even come close. It's not on the same stage, not in the same realm.

I suppose God knows that I am an American. I find it inconceivable that He has ever given it a thought.

Stars and Stripes, wave them proudly outside. 

Inside, remember the star of Bethlehem, wonder and mourn the stripes on the back of our Saviour.

Out on the ice

There is this thing about ice fishing that is starting to get to me. On the one hand, it's a bit of a pain. I have a manual ice auger and as much as I hate to admit it, drilling a hole in ice a foot thick is a chore for someone in their fifties. Like normal fishing, the weather is probably the biggest factor in determining whether you are having a good time. The company you are with plays a huge part as well.

When I lived in Missouri, I once invited a friend to go fishing. He was newly married. We met at one of my favorite spots a few hours from the house, in the hills of north Arkansas. He brought his new wife. "Hope you don't mind, I brought my wife". (Still to this day, one of the stupidest things to come out of the mouth of a human being) She sat in the boat with us. About 30 minutes into our fishing she asked, "how long are we doin' this?". We never spoke much after that. It wasn't so much that he brought his wife without asking, it was that he ruined the day by dropping a non-fisher into the boat.

My oldest daughter and I went "hard water" fishing this weekend. I've been half a dozen times, about once a year. This was her first and probably my favorite. The weather was perfect. 34 degrees, the first day above freezing since December 2. The lunch we cooked on the ice was superb. The company could not have been better.

We didn't catch much, though we did pull in a couple of little walleye. She referred to our fishing rods as "cute", but coming from a hard core fisher, I knew it was coming and did my best to laugh it off. She's a fisher and there's a big difference between us making fun of our sport and taking it from a non-fisher. Her boyfriend stopped by later, met us out on the lake in his truck, and had his first taste of ice fishing as well. 

There is this thing about being out on the top of the water, and witnessing the awesome power of nature. One that will easily freeze a foot-thick layer of hardness and strength on top of every lake and pond in the state. I like to think that it takes my mind off everything else, that I don't worry about the markets, or family matters, or other stuff. I do, I just don't worry as hard, fishing takes alot of the hard edges off of life.

Christmas Gifts

The Saturday after Christmas we drove 14 hours from Little Rock to Minneapolis. Snow on the ground from Alma, Arkansas northward. Off and on we discussed the snow that was awaiting us back home, 12+ inches, and the snowblowing/shoveling chore that awaited us when we arrived.

At 6pm we pulled into the driveway and found the problem had been solved by a neighbor with a heart for Christmas. A neighbor who had been out on Christmas morning clearing our path. A neighbor with two boys who had every reason to stay inside but instead decided to teach his kids a lesson on Christmas morning about what being a neighbor is all about.

I won't remember some of the gifts I got this year, but I won't forget this one, nor will my family.