So said [Miami] Northwestern quarterback Jacory Harris about the recruiting efforts of the UM coaching staff. He's a five star UM recruit, one of a remarkable number of top high school seniors (17) who have made a non-binding commitment to the 'Canes this summer. Read the whole story in the Herald this morning about the impact the new coach Randy Shannon is already having on this and other aspects of the program.
FSU is having similar early recruiting success, the article notes. But there is something a little different going on at the UM, with its black head coach and the special relationship he and his colleagues have with the black high school football coaches in Miami-Dade, territory from which the UM originally built its powerhouse programs.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Sunday, August 05, 2007
"Convenient Care"Clinics
The 8/2 issue of the WSJ carried a column entitled "Health Care When You Want It" by Web Golinkin on the "convenient care" clinic network that is developing in such places as Wal-Mart, CVS stores, and Walgreens. (From that link, you can access the WSJ article on a "free preview" basis, if you register for their 2 week free subsctiption offer.) Golinkin is the president and CEO of RediClinic, LLC, "One of the nation's largest convenient care providers, and is a director and co-founder of the Convenient Care Association."
These centers are manned by nurse practitioners, and Golinkin has this to say about the quality of such care:
Research over the past 30 years has consistently shown that the primary care provided by nurse practitioners is comparable in quality to that provided by physicians, though nurse practitioners are still required to collaborate with local physicians in most states.
I'm not sure that "comparable" means the same as "the same as", but this growing service is surely a big piece of the free market response to the health care crisis, and it may be a good one. (I would venture that "comparable" care from a nurse practitioner is better than no care from a physician.) Golinkin also writes that 97% "of the more than 4,000 RediClinic patients surveyed this year said they would recommend RediClinic to their relatives and friends."
These centers are manned by nurse practitioners, and Golinkin has this to say about the quality of such care:
Research over the past 30 years has consistently shown that the primary care provided by nurse practitioners is comparable in quality to that provided by physicians, though nurse practitioners are still required to collaborate with local physicians in most states.
I'm not sure that "comparable" means the same as "the same as", but this growing service is surely a big piece of the free market response to the health care crisis, and it may be a good one. (I would venture that "comparable" care from a nurse practitioner is better than no care from a physician.) Golinkin also writes that 97% "of the more than 4,000 RediClinic patients surveyed this year said they would recommend RediClinic to their relatives and friends."
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Friday, August 03, 2007
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Five Things You Didn't Know About LIghtning
We get a lot of it here in South Florida. (Hat tip to Carol.)
Monday, July 30, 2007
Trusts and Estates Lawyers
My partner, Juan, has a post on his blog about the off-center breeds of lawyers who find their way to the trusts and estates practice, a practice that we at our firm hold dear. Juan cites the David Margolick book on the Johnson & Johnson probate/trust litigation. In the book Margolick classifies such lawyers as "eccentrics, aristocrats, gays, fops, . . . oddballs, geniuses, and women." If there is a problem with this classification, then it is only with respect to the limited number of such categories not in the main-stream, although "eccentrics" and "oddballs" are pretty broad, and I am very comfortable in either of those classes. I aspire to be a fop, but I don't think I'll make it. I think I'm just going to have to settle with being an oddball.
But you know all that.
But you know all that.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Daniel Schorr
If you listen to NPR on Saturday morning, a sort of guilty semi-pleasure in which I indulge as I drive to the office, you probably will hear Scott Simon go over with Daniel Schorr all of the stories of the just previous week, those stories, that is, that NPR and its MSM allies decided were important. Simon simply defines the sort of smug broadcast reporting NPR typifies. Schorr is absolutely predictable on any given political issue, but at least he's entertaining and smart.
I laughed out loud when Schorr, commenting on VP Cheney undergoing heart surgery, said that the VP had made arrangements to turn over to President Bush temporarily his powers to run the country before submitting to the operation.
I laughed out loud when Schorr, commenting on VP Cheney undergoing heart surgery, said that the VP had made arrangements to turn over to President Bush temporarily his powers to run the country before submitting to the operation.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Calories
Sometimes we post just for reference purposes. Here's a site that shows calories for various foods.
In WW, one converts this data to "points" using a little slide rule that you obtain in the program. WW involves the adoption of a plan where you track your "points" every day. You can eat whatever you want, provided that you do not exceed the total daily points that you allocate to your particular weight loss or maintenance program. So WW is not about denying yourself certain foods (go for it Lindsay!); it's about "portion control", that is, limiting the amount of those foods. A person, then, could be a "meat and potatoes" type, and still be successful.
On the other hand, "low [calorie] density" foods tend to fill you up faster and have relatively fewer points per serviing. An apple, for example, would be one point. A large toll house cookie might be 5 or six points. If one's daily points target is, say, 22 per day (with 36 reserve points per week), one would probably want to eat the apple most days - but now and then go for the cookie.
You also can add "activity" points to your daily routine in WW. For example, right now I am trying to return to my "goal weight" of 155 and that means I am on a 22 points per day program. But I usually walk 2 miles when I get up each morning. That will give me one activity point, according to another little slide rule you get from WW, so I would have 23 points to burn that day.
I mentioned having 36 reserve or "flex" points per week. Flex points are extra points you can use if you need to on a given day. If each week I keep within my daily 22 points, plus the activity points, plus my weekly flex points, then I should lose an average of 1 pound a week. This is the "flex plan".
You carry around a little "tracker" to record what you eat and the points you charge yourself. It sounds a little complicated, but it's not, once you get in the swing of it.
There is an alternate WW system one can adopt. This one is the "core plan". On this one, you can eat pretty much unlimited amounts of certain "core" foods. As to "non-core" foods, you limit daily portions according to the point system. With this system, you don't have to "track", that is write down in your diary, the core foods that you eat. (For example, steak is not a core food, but potatoes - not fried potatoes - are.) Some people seem to do better on the "core plan" than on the "flex plan".
In WW, one converts this data to "points" using a little slide rule that you obtain in the program. WW involves the adoption of a plan where you track your "points" every day. You can eat whatever you want, provided that you do not exceed the total daily points that you allocate to your particular weight loss or maintenance program. So WW is not about denying yourself certain foods (go for it Lindsay!); it's about "portion control", that is, limiting the amount of those foods. A person, then, could be a "meat and potatoes" type, and still be successful.
On the other hand, "low [calorie] density" foods tend to fill you up faster and have relatively fewer points per serviing. An apple, for example, would be one point. A large toll house cookie might be 5 or six points. If one's daily points target is, say, 22 per day (with 36 reserve points per week), one would probably want to eat the apple most days - but now and then go for the cookie.
You also can add "activity" points to your daily routine in WW. For example, right now I am trying to return to my "goal weight" of 155 and that means I am on a 22 points per day program. But I usually walk 2 miles when I get up each morning. That will give me one activity point, according to another little slide rule you get from WW, so I would have 23 points to burn that day.
I mentioned having 36 reserve or "flex" points per week. Flex points are extra points you can use if you need to on a given day. If each week I keep within my daily 22 points, plus the activity points, plus my weekly flex points, then I should lose an average of 1 pound a week. This is the "flex plan".
You carry around a little "tracker" to record what you eat and the points you charge yourself. It sounds a little complicated, but it's not, once you get in the swing of it.
There is an alternate WW system one can adopt. This one is the "core plan". On this one, you can eat pretty much unlimited amounts of certain "core" foods. As to "non-core" foods, you limit daily portions according to the point system. With this system, you don't have to "track", that is write down in your diary, the core foods that you eat. (For example, steak is not a core food, but potatoes - not fried potatoes - are.) Some people seem to do better on the "core plan" than on the "flex plan".
Friday, July 27, 2007
Fire Your Friends, Lose Weight
Having overweight family and friends increases the likelihood someone will become overweight, according to a Harvard researcher who examined obesity and social network data from the long-running Framingham Heart Study.
More here.
More here.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Miscellany
My law partner Jane went to Barnes & Noble (Borders? I can't remember which one she mentioned. And is there a difference?) with her two teenage sons on midnight of Harry Potter night. She said that the line was hours - hours long, and they were near the end of it. After awhile, people started coming out of the store, having bought not just one but several books. Those people offered their extra books for resale to those toward the end of the line for $30 apiece (they had just paid $20 for each of them inside the store). Jane bought one and they went home. She did the math. That's why she's such a great law partner.
There's a big article on the front page of the WSJ today about how states are cancelling new coal fired electric generators the construction of which had been authorized, on account of the carbon emission issues. The price of coal mining stocks is now heading south, having ramped up over the last couple of years because of the higher and higher cost of natural gas and oil. We have a huge supply of coal, enough to take care of our energy needs for decades and decades. But no. That's not to be. Florida's new Republican governor is at the forefront of this turn away from coal. (Florida gets a lot of its fuel from Venezuela, so don't worry.) UPDATE: Ooops. Glenn Reynolds beat me to it.
The WSJ also reports that iPhone orders undersold expectations, which surprises me. Some people are blaming it on ATT's inability to keep up with the demand for connecting to the system. I think its because so many people are so involved in trying to figure out their Treos (mostly unsuccessfully) that they didn't notice.
Mary flew into Miami from Africa today. She came home for a quick shower and took off with Carol for Dadeland.
Some theology.
There's a big article on the front page of the WSJ today about how states are cancelling new coal fired electric generators the construction of which had been authorized, on account of the carbon emission issues. The price of coal mining stocks is now heading south, having ramped up over the last couple of years because of the higher and higher cost of natural gas and oil. We have a huge supply of coal, enough to take care of our energy needs for decades and decades. But no. That's not to be. Florida's new Republican governor is at the forefront of this turn away from coal. (Florida gets a lot of its fuel from Venezuela, so don't worry.) UPDATE: Ooops. Glenn Reynolds beat me to it.
The WSJ also reports that iPhone orders undersold expectations, which surprises me. Some people are blaming it on ATT's inability to keep up with the demand for connecting to the system. I think its because so many people are so involved in trying to figure out their Treos (mostly unsuccessfully) that they didn't notice.
Mary flew into Miami from Africa today. She came home for a quick shower and took off with Carol for Dadeland.
Some theology.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Well, Shoot!
Diet drinks are out! There really ought to be something one could imbibe that would quench one's thirst, be safe, would be relatively inexpensive, and, finally, refreshing. We should all pray that just what that is would be revealed to us.
UPDATE:
Yesterday's WSJ has a column by the Health Journal editor, Tara Parker-Pope, on this subject. It's balanced and worth reading. Here is an excerpt:
The new report from the Framingham study compared soft-drink consumption among nearly 9,000 middle-aged men and women. Overall, soda drinkers were at 48% higher risk for metabolic syndrome, a collection of health problems including being overweight, and having blood-sugar levels signaling diabetes risk. The risks of metabolic syndrome were about the same whether the soft drink was sugared or sugar-free. The study authors noted that the research doesn't prove sodas cause health problems.
What about trying this for four weeks:
1. Drink only water, natural juices (coffee and tea, of course, we are not a bunch of crazies, after all. Maybe some wine now and then. It's from the grape, after all), but no soft drinks of any sort. UPDATE: Add skim milk. UPDATE UPDATE: Add margaritas.
2. Eat nothing with refined sugar in it. Nothing. Nada!
3. Eat whole wheat and not white breads. Brown rice, not white rice. Sweet potatoes not white potatoes.
4. Eat no meat or, at the very least, no red meat.
That leaves mainly veggies and fruits. See what happens.
Who will do this? Let us know. Keep us up to date.
UPDATE:
Yesterday's WSJ has a column by the Health Journal editor, Tara Parker-Pope, on this subject. It's balanced and worth reading. Here is an excerpt:
The new report from the Framingham study compared soft-drink consumption among nearly 9,000 middle-aged men and women. Overall, soda drinkers were at 48% higher risk for metabolic syndrome, a collection of health problems including being overweight, and having blood-sugar levels signaling diabetes risk. The risks of metabolic syndrome were about the same whether the soft drink was sugared or sugar-free. The study authors noted that the research doesn't prove sodas cause health problems.
What about trying this for four weeks:
1. Drink only water, natural juices (coffee and tea, of course, we are not a bunch of crazies, after all. Maybe some wine now and then. It's from the grape, after all), but no soft drinks of any sort. UPDATE: Add skim milk. UPDATE UPDATE: Add margaritas.
2. Eat nothing with refined sugar in it. Nothing. Nada!
3. Eat whole wheat and not white breads. Brown rice, not white rice. Sweet potatoes not white potatoes.
4. Eat no meat or, at the very least, no red meat.
That leaves mainly veggies and fruits. See what happens.
Who will do this? Let us know. Keep us up to date.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
The USS Dale in WWII
Ken, one of the men in our Saturday morning breakfast group at the Cozy Corner, served on a destroyer during the Korean War. He loaned me Tales from a Tin Can, which is about the USS Dale, a destroyer that served in the Pacific during WWII. The author's father served on that ship, and the author had little idea of what his dad had done in the war until he went with him a few years ago to a reunion with the crew. He was amazed and fascinated by the stories they swapped, and, a writer by trade, he ran to the car and got his tape recorder. Like pearls on a silver thread, he has strung those stories chronologically in this book, along a narrative of his own that helps place the stories in context. It is an easy, enjoyable read, and I learned a great deal about destroyers, fleet movements, typhoons, the Japanese.
For example, I had no idea that the Japanese occupation of a couple of the Aleutian islands in Alaska caused so much concern in the US and resulted in one of the first of the war's amphibious landings, difficult though successful landings that helped prepare the Navy for landings later in the war.
When you read about the kamikaze and other suicide tactics that the Japanese desperately employed in 1945, the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki makes a lot of sense. The US Navy lost almost half of the ships it lost in WWII in the Pacific during that year, 1945, because of the desperation of the Japanese. I've heard it before, but the book recounts the belief that there would be over 1 million casualties on the US side if it took an invasion of the Japanese homeland to finish the war. And the Japanese were willing to sacrifice millions of their own to make the cost so high that we would negotiate.
For example, I had no idea that the Japanese occupation of a couple of the Aleutian islands in Alaska caused so much concern in the US and resulted in one of the first of the war's amphibious landings, difficult though successful landings that helped prepare the Navy for landings later in the war.
When you read about the kamikaze and other suicide tactics that the Japanese desperately employed in 1945, the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki makes a lot of sense. The US Navy lost almost half of the ships it lost in WWII in the Pacific during that year, 1945, because of the desperation of the Japanese. I've heard it before, but the book recounts the belief that there would be over 1 million casualties on the US side if it took an invasion of the Japanese homeland to finish the war. And the Japanese were willing to sacrifice millions of their own to make the cost so high that we would negotiate.
"Who's a-shakin' my bed?"
Mary reports on tremors in Kenya, and otherwise updates us on her seminar work south of Nairobi.
The tremors are accounted for here.
The tremors are accounted for here.
Friday, July 20, 2007
"The Religious Right has lost the Evangelical Center"
Or so says Ron Sider in this opinion piece linked from the Evangelicals for Social Action website.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
NPR "reports" on Kenya
And it's not good. Note how several paragraphs into the article, the writer takes a left-turn into a radically anti-evangelical position. Are we surprised?
Monday, July 16, 2007
Veggie Tales: Daniel, Chapter 1
1 In the third year of the reign of Jehoiakim king of Judah, Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon came to Jerusalem and besieged it. 2 And the Lord delivered Jehoiakim king of Judah into his hand, along with some of the articles from the temple of God. These he carried off to the temple of his god in Babylonia [a] and put in the treasure house of his god.
3 Then the king ordered Ashpenaz, chief of his court officials, to bring in some of the Israelites from the royal family and the nobility- 4 young men without any physical defect, handsome, showing aptitude for every kind of learning, well informed, quick to understand, and qualified to serve in the king's palace. He was to teach them the language and literature of the Babylonians. [b] 5 The king assigned them a daily amount of food and wine from the king's table. They were to be trained for three years, and after that they were to enter the king's service.
6 Among these were some from Judah: Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah. 7 The chief official gave them new names: to Daniel, the name Belteshazzar; to Hananiah, Shadrach; to Mishael, Meshach; and to Azariah, Abednego.
8 But Daniel resolved not to defile himself with the royal food and wine, and he asked the chief official for permission not to defile himself this way. 9 Now God had caused the official to show favor and sympathy to Daniel, 10 but the official told Daniel, "I am afraid of my lord the king, who has assigned your [c] food and drink. Why should he see you looking worse than the other young men your age? The king would then have my head because of you."
11 Daniel then said to the guard whom the chief official had appointed over Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah, 12 "Please test your servants for ten days: Give us nothing but vegetables to eat and water to drink. 13 Then compare our appearance with that of the young men who eat the royal food, and treat your servants in accordance with what you see." 14 So he agreed to this and tested them for ten days.
15 At the end of the ten days they looked healthier and better nourished than any of the young men who ate the royal food. 16 So the guard took away their choice food and the wine they were to drink and gave them vegetables instead.
17 To these four young men God gave knowledge and understanding of all kinds of literature and learning. And Daniel could understand visions and dreams of all kinds.
18 At the end of the time set by the king to bring them in, the chief official presented them to Nebuchadnezzar. 19 The king talked with them, and he found none equal to Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah; so they entered the king's service. 20 In every matter of wisdom and understanding about which the king questioned them, he found them ten times better than all the magicians and enchanters in his whole kingdom.
21 And Daniel remained there until the first year of King Cyrus.
3 Then the king ordered Ashpenaz, chief of his court officials, to bring in some of the Israelites from the royal family and the nobility- 4 young men without any physical defect, handsome, showing aptitude for every kind of learning, well informed, quick to understand, and qualified to serve in the king's palace. He was to teach them the language and literature of the Babylonians. [b] 5 The king assigned them a daily amount of food and wine from the king's table. They were to be trained for three years, and after that they were to enter the king's service.
6 Among these were some from Judah: Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah. 7 The chief official gave them new names: to Daniel, the name Belteshazzar; to Hananiah, Shadrach; to Mishael, Meshach; and to Azariah, Abednego.
8 But Daniel resolved not to defile himself with the royal food and wine, and he asked the chief official for permission not to defile himself this way. 9 Now God had caused the official to show favor and sympathy to Daniel, 10 but the official told Daniel, "I am afraid of my lord the king, who has assigned your [c] food and drink. Why should he see you looking worse than the other young men your age? The king would then have my head because of you."
11 Daniel then said to the guard whom the chief official had appointed over Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah, 12 "Please test your servants for ten days: Give us nothing but vegetables to eat and water to drink. 13 Then compare our appearance with that of the young men who eat the royal food, and treat your servants in accordance with what you see." 14 So he agreed to this and tested them for ten days.
15 At the end of the ten days they looked healthier and better nourished than any of the young men who ate the royal food. 16 So the guard took away their choice food and the wine they were to drink and gave them vegetables instead.
17 To these four young men God gave knowledge and understanding of all kinds of literature and learning. And Daniel could understand visions and dreams of all kinds.
18 At the end of the time set by the king to bring them in, the chief official presented them to Nebuchadnezzar. 19 The king talked with them, and he found none equal to Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah; so they entered the king's service. 20 In every matter of wisdom and understanding about which the king questioned them, he found them ten times better than all the magicians and enchanters in his whole kingdom.
21 And Daniel remained there until the first year of King Cyrus.
High glycemic diets may increase the risk of age-related macular degeneration
This is big, I think:
In a new study published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, researchers tested the theory that dietary glycemic index (GI), which has been associated with the risk of diabetes and CVD [cardiovascular disease], may also increase the risk and severity of AMD [age-related macular degeneration] in elderly populations . . . Compared with the eyes in those with the lowest GI diets, eyes in the high GI subjects had significantly higher risk of AMD progression and severity. There was a 49% increase in the risk of advanced AMD for persons who ate a diet higher than average in GI. Researchers noted that the results indicated that 20% of all AMD cases in the study would have been eliminated if the participants consumed diets with a GI below the average.
In a new study published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, researchers tested the theory that dietary glycemic index (GI), which has been associated with the risk of diabetes and CVD [cardiovascular disease], may also increase the risk and severity of AMD [age-related macular degeneration] in elderly populations . . . Compared with the eyes in those with the lowest GI diets, eyes in the high GI subjects had significantly higher risk of AMD progression and severity. There was a 49% increase in the risk of advanced AMD for persons who ate a diet higher than average in GI. Researchers noted that the results indicated that 20% of all AMD cases in the study would have been eliminated if the participants consumed diets with a GI below the average.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Brandon's Dad: A Grade A Father
Brandon is two and half years old, the son of a very young couple we know. Because of extensive kidney problems, Brandon's had a rough time of it, and probably should be in heaven by now, but for some serious prayer, a lot of which has been going up from our church. The young couple are part of the extended family of some wonderful people in our church. We have been getting reports on Brandon and his young parents and praying for him and them since he was born. Our congregation met Brandon for the first time about a month ago when his parents presented him for baptism.
We Presbyterians aren't supposed to baptize infants when the parents are not in our church or a sister church. So were we going to hold the line on Brandon? Are you kidding? We readily bypassed that bit of theology. He's one of us, and so is this couple, whatever the technical details may be.
Brandon was just about as cute and alert and well-behaved as anyone would have any right to expect of any young man of any age. It was a great moment to see Brandon baptized, surrounded by a loving family and an intensely focused congregation.
Brandon and his parents are now in Pittsburgh where the university hospital there is getting ready for a kidney transplant from his mom.
Carol was telling me that, right now at least, those transplants only last around seven years. Both his mother and his dad are good matches, but his dad gave Brandon a blood transfusion early on when Brandon needed it, and the physicians are concerned that Brandon may have developed some anit-bodies that will make accepting a kidney from dad very risky. But we'll see.
Brandon's dad had always been over-weight, Carol tells me. But he's lost 50 pounds getting himself in shape for whatever the physicians may need to do to his body to take care of Brandon's.
We Presbyterians aren't supposed to baptize infants when the parents are not in our church or a sister church. So were we going to hold the line on Brandon? Are you kidding? We readily bypassed that bit of theology. He's one of us, and so is this couple, whatever the technical details may be.
Brandon was just about as cute and alert and well-behaved as anyone would have any right to expect of any young man of any age. It was a great moment to see Brandon baptized, surrounded by a loving family and an intensely focused congregation.
Brandon and his parents are now in Pittsburgh where the university hospital there is getting ready for a kidney transplant from his mom.
Carol was telling me that, right now at least, those transplants only last around seven years. Both his mother and his dad are good matches, but his dad gave Brandon a blood transfusion early on when Brandon needed it, and the physicians are concerned that Brandon may have developed some anit-bodies that will make accepting a kidney from dad very risky. But we'll see.
Brandon's dad had always been over-weight, Carol tells me. But he's lost 50 pounds getting himself in shape for whatever the physicians may need to do to his body to take care of Brandon's.
Two Bads
Bad 1:
Patient: Doctor, I think I'm a moth. Can you help me?
Dr.: You think you're a moth?
Patient: Yes. Can you help me?
Dr.: Well, I'm just a general practioner. You need to see a psychiatrist.
Patient: I know that, Sir. In fact, I was on my way to the psychiatrist's office when I saw your light.
Bad 2:
Old feller is in bed upstairs, about to die.
From below comes the aroma of home-made chocolate chip cookies baking.
He says to himself, "Before I go, I'm going to have one last chocolate chip cookie", and he painfully crawls out of bed, down the stairs, into the kitchen, and reaches his hand up to grab a cookie from the cooling rack on the kitchen table.
WHAPP!!! A spatula hits his outstretched hand. "You let that thing go, Hiram!" his wife demands. "Those are for the funeral!"
Patient: Doctor, I think I'm a moth. Can you help me?
Dr.: You think you're a moth?
Patient: Yes. Can you help me?
Dr.: Well, I'm just a general practioner. You need to see a psychiatrist.
Patient: I know that, Sir. In fact, I was on my way to the psychiatrist's office when I saw your light.
Bad 2:
Old feller is in bed upstairs, about to die.
From below comes the aroma of home-made chocolate chip cookies baking.
He says to himself, "Before I go, I'm going to have one last chocolate chip cookie", and he painfully crawls out of bed, down the stairs, into the kitchen, and reaches his hand up to grab a cookie from the cooling rack on the kitchen table.
WHAPP!!! A spatula hits his outstretched hand. "You let that thing go, Hiram!" his wife demands. "Those are for the funeral!"
Unsweet Tomatoes
Last night Carol and I went to Sweet Tomatoes, a sort of salad restaurant that we love. The problem with that place is that one's usual defenses against over-eating are disarmed. This place is about salad, after all. So everything goes, right? Wrong.
I piled high a plate of salad, and the plates the restaurant offers, while not huge, are not of an ungenerous size. It is a serve yourself format, and the process involves putting one's plate on one's tray and then walking down a long buffet line, loading up. (What happened to all my WW "portion control" disciplines?) While almost all the items are vegetable based, there is some chicken salad here and there, some mayonnaise and oil. However, I think if I had kept just to the plate of salad, I would have been all right, especially since I did not eat unsparingly earlier in the day.
But then we sit down and start eating, and along comes a person from the restaurant offering chocolate chip cookie pieces, and we take some. Then, when we finish with the salad, we get up and go get a cup of "soup", which for me is a bowl of chili into which I mix about a quarter cup of white rice. This is not a large bowl at all, I tell myself. After I finish that, I go to the bread line and get a couple of pieces of foccasia bread - not large pieces, small pieces, but two of them nevertheless.
Then I visit the ice cream bar, a place where soft ice cream is available on a serve-yourself basis. There are small bowls there, and I pick one. I get the swirl of vanilla and chocolate. Then I move to the condiment station and squirt on the chocolate sauce, topping it all off, remembering fondly how my grandfather loved ice cream, that he always great quantities of it in his freezer and always had a can of Hershey's chocolate sauce in his refrigerator to top off his big bowls of ice cream. (I didn't call to mind how he smoked, always ate what he wanted, rarely exercised or walked anywhere, and died at age 70 as he was getting ready to come to my law school graduation. [He had been an athlete in high school, a baseball player.] He never looked overweight to me, but there you are.)
I didn't feel well as we left the restaurant. I have been fighting some sort of sinus issue this week, and I know that didn't help. But I know all that food didn't help. Ugh. How could I have done that?
And the idea that Sweet Tomatoes is a "free-zone" is hilarious self-deception. Fully half the people there are 'way overweight. And it was Saturday night. That should have been a clue. (What was I thinking? That these people pick up a pizza on the way home?)
I piled high a plate of salad, and the plates the restaurant offers, while not huge, are not of an ungenerous size. It is a serve yourself format, and the process involves putting one's plate on one's tray and then walking down a long buffet line, loading up. (What happened to all my WW "portion control" disciplines?) While almost all the items are vegetable based, there is some chicken salad here and there, some mayonnaise and oil. However, I think if I had kept just to the plate of salad, I would have been all right, especially since I did not eat unsparingly earlier in the day.
But then we sit down and start eating, and along comes a person from the restaurant offering chocolate chip cookie pieces, and we take some. Then, when we finish with the salad, we get up and go get a cup of "soup", which for me is a bowl of chili into which I mix about a quarter cup of white rice. This is not a large bowl at all, I tell myself. After I finish that, I go to the bread line and get a couple of pieces of foccasia bread - not large pieces, small pieces, but two of them nevertheless.
Then I visit the ice cream bar, a place where soft ice cream is available on a serve-yourself basis. There are small bowls there, and I pick one. I get the swirl of vanilla and chocolate. Then I move to the condiment station and squirt on the chocolate sauce, topping it all off, remembering fondly how my grandfather loved ice cream, that he always great quantities of it in his freezer and always had a can of Hershey's chocolate sauce in his refrigerator to top off his big bowls of ice cream. (I didn't call to mind how he smoked, always ate what he wanted, rarely exercised or walked anywhere, and died at age 70 as he was getting ready to come to my law school graduation. [He had been an athlete in high school, a baseball player.] He never looked overweight to me, but there you are.)
I didn't feel well as we left the restaurant. I have been fighting some sort of sinus issue this week, and I know that didn't help. But I know all that food didn't help. Ugh. How could I have done that?
And the idea that Sweet Tomatoes is a "free-zone" is hilarious self-deception. Fully half the people there are 'way overweight. And it was Saturday night. That should have been a clue. (What was I thinking? That these people pick up a pizza on the way home?)
Saturday, July 14, 2007
WikiHow
Heard of this Wiki? Here's an article about how to convert an analog "song" or "talk" from, say, a tape or record to a digital file, using an Apple computer.
Binkies, God's Gift to Parents of Certain Children
Carol and I often listen to audio books when we drive on vacation. (Can you imagine that she might not just want to listen to me talk hour after hour? But, really, it's true.) We went to the library to see what we could find for our recent trip to Montreat NC. We checked out a number of books, both regular and audio, among them an audio version of Anne Tyler's "Digging to America".
Carol made this selection, and I wasn't paying a lot of attention. I had in mind that the author in question was the mystery writer, Ann Perry. Wrong. This was Anne Tyler, whose fiction is about RELATIONSHIPS! (Boooorrrrring.) I didn't realize my mistake until we were about 12 seconds into the audio book on our trip. (Maybe it was 5 seconds, I really don't remember.)
Well, it was quite a long book, and I have to concede that it was sort of interesting. It's about two Baltmore couples and their extended families who first meet each other in the late 1990s in the gate area of the Baltimore international airport as they are awaiting the arrival of an airplane from Korea. Coincidentally, among the passengers on that airplane are two little girl babies, one that is being adopted by each family. The babies are being delivered by representatives of different Korean adoption agencies. One of the couples is sort of typical American, noisy with a lot of friends and other family members in the waiting area with them with cameras, party hats, signs, and video cameras. The other couple is Iranian-American, quiet with only the mother of the husband with them. When the babies are brought off the plane, the two families realize that they have something very special in common with one another and a friendship commences, the growth of which over the next three thousand, four-hundred audio-book hours (or 1600 miles, whichever comes first) is the "backbone" of the "plot" of the book.
Anyway, deep, deep, deep into the book, one of the families adopts a second little girl, this one from China. This little girl becomes a total Binkie freak. It is obvious that the author has had some very significant, probably traumatic personal experience with this sort of little person. The house becomes filled with this little tyrant's, excuse me I mean strong-willed child's, binkies. (Could such a personality type possibly be associated with Binkie madness? I'm sure not. It's probably just fiction.)
At some point in the narrative, the mother decides the Binkies have to go, and a sort of war of wills commences between her and the little girl. The mother decides that she will have a good-bye Binkie party, during which she will have all her friends over. She promises her tiny daughter a wonderful present to commemerate the day that the Binkies will go. In preparation for the party, the mother prepares helium balloons and ties a Binkie to each balloon by means of a string dangling from it. The highlight of the party will be when each person attending will get a balloon and go outside with it and, at the count of three, release his or her balloon into the atmosphere. The Binkie strategy doesn't quite work out, and it is funny, I have to admit.
As Carol and I discussed Binkies, as a result of Kellsey's post about Honor, she said that with one of our children, who will go unnamed in this public place, the Binkie saved her sanity. I wouldn't go that far, given what I know of her sanity at this point, but it probably prevented infanticide.
Carol made this selection, and I wasn't paying a lot of attention. I had in mind that the author in question was the mystery writer, Ann Perry. Wrong. This was Anne Tyler, whose fiction is about RELATIONSHIPS! (Boooorrrrring.) I didn't realize my mistake until we were about 12 seconds into the audio book on our trip. (Maybe it was 5 seconds, I really don't remember.)
Well, it was quite a long book, and I have to concede that it was sort of interesting. It's about two Baltmore couples and their extended families who first meet each other in the late 1990s in the gate area of the Baltimore international airport as they are awaiting the arrival of an airplane from Korea. Coincidentally, among the passengers on that airplane are two little girl babies, one that is being adopted by each family. The babies are being delivered by representatives of different Korean adoption agencies. One of the couples is sort of typical American, noisy with a lot of friends and other family members in the waiting area with them with cameras, party hats, signs, and video cameras. The other couple is Iranian-American, quiet with only the mother of the husband with them. When the babies are brought off the plane, the two families realize that they have something very special in common with one another and a friendship commences, the growth of which over the next three thousand, four-hundred audio-book hours (or 1600 miles, whichever comes first) is the "backbone" of the "plot" of the book.
Anyway, deep, deep, deep into the book, one of the families adopts a second little girl, this one from China. This little girl becomes a total Binkie freak. It is obvious that the author has had some very significant, probably traumatic personal experience with this sort of little person. The house becomes filled with this little tyrant's, excuse me I mean strong-willed child's, binkies. (Could such a personality type possibly be associated with Binkie madness? I'm sure not. It's probably just fiction.)
At some point in the narrative, the mother decides the Binkies have to go, and a sort of war of wills commences between her and the little girl. The mother decides that she will have a good-bye Binkie party, during which she will have all her friends over. She promises her tiny daughter a wonderful present to commemerate the day that the Binkies will go. In preparation for the party, the mother prepares helium balloons and ties a Binkie to each balloon by means of a string dangling from it. The highlight of the party will be when each person attending will get a balloon and go outside with it and, at the count of three, release his or her balloon into the atmosphere. The Binkie strategy doesn't quite work out, and it is funny, I have to admit.
As Carol and I discussed Binkies, as a result of Kellsey's post about Honor, she said that with one of our children, who will go unnamed in this public place, the Binkie saved her sanity. I wouldn't go that far, given what I know of her sanity at this point, but it probably prevented infanticide.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Disturbing Numbers from Johns Hopkins University Bloomberg School of Public Health.
See this article on obesity rates in the US.
The obesity rate in the United States has increased at an alarming rate over the past three decades. We set out to estimate the average annual increase in prevalence as well as the variation between population groups to predict the future situation regarding obesity and overweight among U.S. adults and children,” said Youfa Wang, MD, PhD, lead author of the study and an assistant professor in the Bloomberg School of Public Health’s Department of International Health. “Obesity is a public health crisis. If the rate of obesity and overweight continues at this pace, by 2015, 75 percent of adults and nearly 24 percent of U.S. children and adolescents will be overweight or obese.
The obesity rate in the United States has increased at an alarming rate over the past three decades. We set out to estimate the average annual increase in prevalence as well as the variation between population groups to predict the future situation regarding obesity and overweight among U.S. adults and children,” said Youfa Wang, MD, PhD, lead author of the study and an assistant professor in the Bloomberg School of Public Health’s Department of International Health. “Obesity is a public health crisis. If the rate of obesity and overweight continues at this pace, by 2015, 75 percent of adults and nearly 24 percent of U.S. children and adolescents will be overweight or obese.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Sitting up
Can she do it, folks? Can she master the intense and focused control of her core muscles necessary to get herself from being parallel with the floor to sitting up?
let's follow the photo journaling of this epic attempt at a new milestone:
And she does it! (and the crowds go wild!)
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
The Blue Devils Arrive!
When I was a senior in high school, I ran into Charles Battle over Spring break. Battle's family were members of Central Baptist Church, and he was a year ahead of me and back home from "Chapel Hill" (I had no idea what "Chapel Hill" meant at the time, but I knew that I was supposed to know and that Charlie knew I didn't know.) Charles' parents had sent him off to McCallie instead of allowing him to suffer with the rest of us in public high school. From there he had gone to UNC. By the spring, I had been admitted to Duke, and his comment was something about my going to "the University of New Jersey".
When I was at Duke, the place really struggled with being a school on the make but buried in the South, and probably still struggles with it. During my senior year there, I applied to "Duke Law", as well as to other law schools. My LSATs were OK, but not outstanding. The dean at Duke said he would admit me, but he wanted me to take the LSATs again so that their first year LSAT average might be a little higher. After four years as an undergrad at Duke, I had had about enough of the "Harvard of the South" mierda, and I said good-bye and went to Chicago.
In yesterday's WSJ, there is an op-ed piece in which the JFK myth is pilloried. Toward the end of the piece, the writer presents the thesis that the Kennedy myth makers ruined the Democratic Party, steering it from the party of the little guy to the elites of New England and Hollywood.
But the criteria for president of the United States aren't the same as those set by the deans of admission at Harvard or Yale, Brown or Duke. The happy snobbery of feeling culturally superior and morally virtuous that is at the heart of the Kennedy myth shouldn't be what politics is about. [Bold mine]
University of New Jersey indeed. Eat your heart out, Charlie Battle.
When I was at Duke, the place really struggled with being a school on the make but buried in the South, and probably still struggles with it. During my senior year there, I applied to "Duke Law", as well as to other law schools. My LSATs were OK, but not outstanding. The dean at Duke said he would admit me, but he wanted me to take the LSATs again so that their first year LSAT average might be a little higher. After four years as an undergrad at Duke, I had had about enough of the "Harvard of the South" mierda, and I said good-bye and went to Chicago.
In yesterday's WSJ, there is an op-ed piece in which the JFK myth is pilloried. Toward the end of the piece, the writer presents the thesis that the Kennedy myth makers ruined the Democratic Party, steering it from the party of the little guy to the elites of New England and Hollywood.
But the criteria for president of the United States aren't the same as those set by the deans of admission at Harvard or Yale, Brown or Duke. The happy snobbery of feeling culturally superior and morally virtuous that is at the heart of the Kennedy myth shouldn't be what politics is about. [Bold mine]
University of New Jersey indeed. Eat your heart out, Charlie Battle.
"The Culture Gap" by Brink Lindsey
A good essay about the economic cost of behaving badly and the premium for behaving well.
Football. Football. Alas.
I asked Tom Curtis at church a couple of Sundays ago whether he could do anything about speeding up the beginning of football season. He sighed and confessed that he had spent the previous afternoon watching some sort of golf game on TV that had elements of poker larded into it, he was that desperate for sports. We asked each other whether he had the slightest interest in hockey, and of course neither of us does. And as for baseball? Please.
Which takes me momentarily to a review that appeared in the WSJ Saturday of a non-fiction book entitled The Real All Americans by Sally Jenkins. It is the story of the "the momentous college-football game in 1921 between [Glenn "Pop"] Warner's renowned Carlisle Indian School squad and a vaunted Army team."
Jenkins quotes "the best locker room speech ever . . . to be":
Your fathers and your grandfathers are the ones who fought their fathers. These men playing against you today are soldiers. They are the Long Knives. You are Indians. Tonight, we will know if you are warriors.
Carlisle beat Army 27-6. It helped that Jim Thorpe was in Carlisle's backfield.
As football continues its inexorable migration from free to pay tv, every new season sees me weaken in my resolve to stay with the rabbit ears. The gods have taken away Monday Night Football, and the autumn weeks have dimmed. MNF once redeemed Mondays. Now MNF is no longer a matter of grace, but a matter of money. American Civilization is clearly on the downslope.
Which takes me momentarily to a review that appeared in the WSJ Saturday of a non-fiction book entitled The Real All Americans by Sally Jenkins. It is the story of the "the momentous college-football game in 1921 between [Glenn "Pop"] Warner's renowned Carlisle Indian School squad and a vaunted Army team."
Jenkins quotes "the best locker room speech ever . . . to be":
Your fathers and your grandfathers are the ones who fought their fathers. These men playing against you today are soldiers. They are the Long Knives. You are Indians. Tonight, we will know if you are warriors.
Carlisle beat Army 27-6. It helped that Jim Thorpe was in Carlisle's backfield.
As football continues its inexorable migration from free to pay tv, every new season sees me weaken in my resolve to stay with the rabbit ears. The gods have taken away Monday Night Football, and the autumn weeks have dimmed. MNF once redeemed Mondays. Now MNF is no longer a matter of grace, but a matter of money. American Civilization is clearly on the downslope.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
I think I heard the word "awesome" in Japanese
My birthday is July 16. Plus, it's too late for Carol's birthday, which was yesterday, but I have my eye on this for her next time.
Saving the Banana
We love bananas at our house. They are so cheap, so filling, and so healthy, we buy several hands a week. Among other things, we eat them like Popsicles after we have peeled them, cut them into two pieces, and frozen them.
I read this article indicating that bananas are at risk, and that a scientist in Uganda is doing something about it. (More on the banana blight here.)
I read this article indicating that bananas are at risk, and that a scientist in Uganda is doing something about it. (More on the banana blight here.)
Calorie Reduction Can Be Very Difficult
Having been involved with Weight Watchers for many years, I have had the opportunity to see how people struggle with their weight, especially women, the gender that comprises the very large majority of WW persons. It is harder for women to lose weight and then maintain their weight at a healthy level; in fact it seems to be much harder. Generally speaking, it is very, very difficult to deal with weight matters and physical fitness in our stressful, sugar coated culture. (On the other hand, I have seen some remarkable successes, especially among women.)
My motivator was the cancer. That really got my attention, and Carol's. I thought I was going to die, and half the people in my support group did die within five years of their diagnosis. I was in my mid-forties at the time. My oncologist thought that if I were lucky, I would live until about 60 if I got beyond the first five years. Diet was one thing I thought I might be able to control, and so I started down that road. I don't mean to sound smug when I write about health topics and weight loss. It just seems so vital to me.
My motivator was the cancer. That really got my attention, and Carol's. I thought I was going to die, and half the people in my support group did die within five years of their diagnosis. I was in my mid-forties at the time. My oncologist thought that if I were lucky, I would live until about 60 if I got beyond the first five years. Diet was one thing I thought I might be able to control, and so I started down that road. I don't mean to sound smug when I write about health topics and weight loss. It just seems so vital to me.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Parkour
My friend Kurt turned me on to Crossfit. Kurt's a Captain in the Army, on his way to med school, and tends to run marathons on a whim - as in he makes the decision 6-12 hours before race time.
So I've been showing him my kettlebell propaganda, and he's seen my kettlebell ante and raised the stakes.
I'm still a bit overwhelmed by the splendor of the site, and I'm going to subscribe to the journal, but this article was too cool to leave unposted.
So I've been showing him my kettlebell propaganda, and he's seen my kettlebell ante and raised the stakes.
I'm still a bit overwhelmed by the splendor of the site, and I'm going to subscribe to the journal, but this article was too cool to leave unposted.
Toward a Theology of the Self
I think orthodox American Christianity lacks a theology of the body or, to put it in a way that does not necessarily separate body from mind/spirit, a theology of the self. Maybe not "lacks" a theology: it does have a theology, but it is not well articulated; it is inconsistent, maybe incoherent; and it may be wrong in large part.
I have thought on and off about this for many years (which, I readily concede, hardly makes me an expert), but what most recently generated some reflection on the issue was seeing so many over-weight people at the Christian Life Conference. (I know. Everyone is groaning. This again.) But I think the over-weight people I saw simply do not connect what they do with their bodies with their calling to be salt and light. I think there is a sort of Gnosticism at work here, a dualism that leads us away from thinking about how we affect our neighbors by how treat our bodies, in this case how we eat.
If every Christian would reduce his calorie intake so that his weight would fall within the mid-range of the charts and if the food that he ate would be nourishing and empty of empty-calories, the demand for medical services would fall, the price of those services would go down, and poor people would be better able to afford those services. Chronic diseases among elderly Christians would fall, reducing the demand on care-givers, nursing homes, and the like, thus reducing the costs of those services, and making them more accessible to the poor. The junk food industry would stop growing and alcohol consumption would go down.
But I hear nothing, nothing about that. I just hear the body mentioned in two contexts: sex and the Lord's Supper (how's that for a combination?).
Sex seems to be the most important thing about the body that Christians talk about. And we talk about it so competently that our divorce rate approaches that of the general population, and we allow the same-sex relationship issue to define whether we are "really" Christians.
As to the Lord's Supper, I come from a tradition where it has been completely and utterly spiritualized. "This is [really not] my body, broken for you."
The Presbyterians, where I presently have a home, are not quite sure about the Lord's Supper. It is a sacrament, not an "ordinance", to be sure. We think something happens. It's not simply a metaphor, as the Baptists seem to believe. But I'm not quite sure that the Reformers completely worked it out. (I could be wrong on this, and I apologize to those in the Reformed Tradition if I am.)
Here is what happens at our church. We "celebrate" the Lord's supper at a worship service once a month. We have little wafers for the bread/body of Christ. We have grape juice for the wine/blood of Christ. (I don't understand the grape juice versus the wine, especially with wine so cheap and plentiful.) Then, after the service, we have a light lunch in the Fellowship Hall. Here's what I think about that: the real Lord's Supper occurs during the light lunch, where our bodies are being nourished along with our spirits through the wonderful fellowship. I would like for the pastor, as the light lunch fellowship begins, instead of saying the blessing, to pick up a sandwich and then a cup of lemonade and go through the litany. (And maybe the deacons would wait on people during the lunch.) Then we would sing a hymn when the lunch is over and go out.
Like a lot of things, the ancient Jews had the body thing right. There is a unity between mind and body. Adultery, being unkind to one's spouse by the use of one's body, is on the same list as having "no other gods before me". Resting on the Sabbath has the same amount of moral weight as does adultery. When the resurrection occurs, the resurrection will be a bodily one. We will have clothes in heaven. We will recognize each other. We will walk on streets. Finally, Christ was not simply God, he was God incarnate.
So eat your vegetables and stay away from the sweets. That would be a righteous thing to do.
UPDATE: American Christians are not entirely bereft of some leadership on this issue, although Mennonites may not qualify as exactly mainstream. And Pam Smith has been featured on Focus on the Family.
I have thought on and off about this for many years (which, I readily concede, hardly makes me an expert), but what most recently generated some reflection on the issue was seeing so many over-weight people at the Christian Life Conference. (I know. Everyone is groaning. This again.) But I think the over-weight people I saw simply do not connect what they do with their bodies with their calling to be salt and light. I think there is a sort of Gnosticism at work here, a dualism that leads us away from thinking about how we affect our neighbors by how treat our bodies, in this case how we eat.
If every Christian would reduce his calorie intake so that his weight would fall within the mid-range of the charts and if the food that he ate would be nourishing and empty of empty-calories, the demand for medical services would fall, the price of those services would go down, and poor people would be better able to afford those services. Chronic diseases among elderly Christians would fall, reducing the demand on care-givers, nursing homes, and the like, thus reducing the costs of those services, and making them more accessible to the poor. The junk food industry would stop growing and alcohol consumption would go down.
But I hear nothing, nothing about that. I just hear the body mentioned in two contexts: sex and the Lord's Supper (how's that for a combination?).
Sex seems to be the most important thing about the body that Christians talk about. And we talk about it so competently that our divorce rate approaches that of the general population, and we allow the same-sex relationship issue to define whether we are "really" Christians.
As to the Lord's Supper, I come from a tradition where it has been completely and utterly spiritualized. "This is [really not] my body, broken for you."
The Presbyterians, where I presently have a home, are not quite sure about the Lord's Supper. It is a sacrament, not an "ordinance", to be sure. We think something happens. It's not simply a metaphor, as the Baptists seem to believe. But I'm not quite sure that the Reformers completely worked it out. (I could be wrong on this, and I apologize to those in the Reformed Tradition if I am.)
Here is what happens at our church. We "celebrate" the Lord's supper at a worship service once a month. We have little wafers for the bread/body of Christ. We have grape juice for the wine/blood of Christ. (I don't understand the grape juice versus the wine, especially with wine so cheap and plentiful.) Then, after the service, we have a light lunch in the Fellowship Hall. Here's what I think about that: the real Lord's Supper occurs during the light lunch, where our bodies are being nourished along with our spirits through the wonderful fellowship. I would like for the pastor, as the light lunch fellowship begins, instead of saying the blessing, to pick up a sandwich and then a cup of lemonade and go through the litany. (And maybe the deacons would wait on people during the lunch.) Then we would sing a hymn when the lunch is over and go out.
Like a lot of things, the ancient Jews had the body thing right. There is a unity between mind and body. Adultery, being unkind to one's spouse by the use of one's body, is on the same list as having "no other gods before me". Resting on the Sabbath has the same amount of moral weight as does adultery. When the resurrection occurs, the resurrection will be a bodily one. We will have clothes in heaven. We will recognize each other. We will walk on streets. Finally, Christ was not simply God, he was God incarnate.
So eat your vegetables and stay away from the sweets. That would be a righteous thing to do.
UPDATE: American Christians are not entirely bereft of some leadership on this issue, although Mennonites may not qualify as exactly mainstream. And Pam Smith has been featured on Focus on the Family.
Africa, the Americans have Landed
Interesting article in July's Esquire Magazine by Thomas P.M. Barnett about US forces in Africa.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Montreat Books
Carol and I attended the Christian Life Conference from June 31 through July 3 at Montreat College, which is east of Ashville about 25 miles. John and Nancy Ortberg were the keynote speakers at the plenary sessions, and they were fabulous. In addition to plenary sessions, the conference offers seminars on various topics. During the conference, book titles dropped like leaves from a hardwood in autumn. Here are the ones I managed to rake up:
These were mentioned by Rob Weingartner, the Executive Director of The Outreach Foundation, during his seminar entitled "What is the Presbyterian Global Fellowship?" (See Rob speak of the Outreach Foundation on a short video here. The Presbyterian Global Fellowship page is here. Walter and Morgan are planning on going to the annual conference to be held in Houston August 16-18 of this year. Carol, Mary and I are thinking of attending as well. We wouldn't want to miss spending part of August in Houston anyway.)
Jenkins, The New Christendom: the Coming of Global Christianity and The New Faces of Christianity: Believing the Bible in the Global South.
Newbigin, The Gospel in a Pluralist Society.
Escobar, Sowing the Word: The Cultural Impact of the British and Foreign Bible Society, 1804-2004.(Book review): An article from: Church History [HTML] (Digital)
Snyder, Liberating the Church.
Hirsch, Forgotten Ways: Reactivating the Missional Church
Pat MacPherson cited the following during his seminar entitled "Igniting the Men in Your Church":
Hughes, Disciplines of a Godly Man.
Morley, No Man Left Behind.
Nancy Ortberg mentioned these two books:
Everetts, Jesus with Dirty Feet
Lamotte, Travelling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith.
These were mentioned by Rob Weingartner, the Executive Director of The Outreach Foundation, during his seminar entitled "What is the Presbyterian Global Fellowship?" (See Rob speak of the Outreach Foundation on a short video here. The Presbyterian Global Fellowship page is here. Walter and Morgan are planning on going to the annual conference to be held in Houston August 16-18 of this year. Carol, Mary and I are thinking of attending as well. We wouldn't want to miss spending part of August in Houston anyway.)
Jenkins, The New Christendom: the Coming of Global Christianity and The New Faces of Christianity: Believing the Bible in the Global South.
Newbigin, The Gospel in a Pluralist Society.
Escobar, Sowing the Word: The Cultural Impact of the British and Foreign Bible Society, 1804-2004.(Book review): An article from: Church History [HTML] (Digital)
Snyder, Liberating the Church.
Hirsch, Forgotten Ways: Reactivating the Missional Church
Pat MacPherson cited the following during his seminar entitled "Igniting the Men in Your Church":
Hughes, Disciplines of a Godly Man.
Morley, No Man Left Behind.
Nancy Ortberg mentioned these two books:
Everetts, Jesus with Dirty Feet
Lamotte, Travelling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Weight Charts
Following up on my comment to Scott's comment to the preceding post, here is a webpage with weight charts. Another chart is here on the Weight Watcher's website.
I am a medium framed male, about 5' 9", and for a few more days I'll be 60 years of age. My range on the chart to which I first link is 148-160. On the WW chart it is 135 to 169. (Today at the Weight Watchers meeting I weighed in at 159, seeking 155 as my target weight.) Those are pretty broad ranges. I am sure that in an individual case one would want to move carefully as he or she approached the limits. But they are instructive.
I am a medium framed male, about 5' 9", and for a few more days I'll be 60 years of age. My range on the chart to which I first link is 148-160. On the WW chart it is 135 to 169. (Today at the Weight Watchers meeting I weighed in at 159, seeking 155 as my target weight.) Those are pretty broad ranges. I am sure that in an individual case one would want to move carefully as he or she approached the limits. But they are instructive.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Please Pass the Veggies
Following my diagnosis of NHL 13 years ago, Carol and I became quite interested in improving our health. We focused on what we seemed to be able to control, diet and exercise. Along the way, we became involved in Weight Watchers, which has helped us focus weekly on the matter of nutrition and we have read books and magazines, especially Nutrition Action Health Letter (which we would recommend).
Carol is simply a marvelous cook, and she transformed our diet: we moved away from red meats almost entirely, we eat plenty of vegetables, whole grain breads, brown rice, and so on. It would be difficult to be in a family where the cook is not on the same page. Carol is not only on the same page, she has developed simply delicious and healthy meals over the years.
Some people in the nutrition community, maybe a bit on the fringe, believe that being under-weight contributes to good health and longevity. This week I bumped into a the website of the "Calorie Restriction Society" where this thesis is presented and discussed. Among things that I note, after a brief review of the site, are these points:
1. Low glycemic index foods are much preferred. This is the thesis of Sugar Busters, a best seller for many years.
2. The sweet spot of being underweight is somewhere below 10% of our teenage weight. I weighed in around 145 when I was a teenager. When I got my cancer diagnosis, I was pushing 180. I weigh around 160 right now, although my Weight Watcher “goal weight” is 155, and I am trying to get back there. So that would make my sweetspot around 130, which I am sure would alarm everyone I know if I were to get to that point.
3. The reason one lives longer on this particular diet seems to be that the poisons and toxins in foods that one eats tend to be stored in fat, where there is fat around in which to store such things. So less fat means that those toxins and poisons will be sloughed off as you eat only what you will burn up in energy. And I guess the less food one eats over all, the less the foods will poison you. And, of course, the healthier food one eats, the less one is poisoned. I think this is it, but I am going to read more about this.
Carol is simply a marvelous cook, and she transformed our diet: we moved away from red meats almost entirely, we eat plenty of vegetables, whole grain breads, brown rice, and so on. It would be difficult to be in a family where the cook is not on the same page. Carol is not only on the same page, she has developed simply delicious and healthy meals over the years.
Some people in the nutrition community, maybe a bit on the fringe, believe that being under-weight contributes to good health and longevity. This week I bumped into a the website of the "Calorie Restriction Society" where this thesis is presented and discussed. Among things that I note, after a brief review of the site, are these points:
1. Low glycemic index foods are much preferred. This is the thesis of Sugar Busters, a best seller for many years.
2. The sweet spot of being underweight is somewhere below 10% of our teenage weight. I weighed in around 145 when I was a teenager. When I got my cancer diagnosis, I was pushing 180. I weigh around 160 right now, although my Weight Watcher “goal weight” is 155, and I am trying to get back there. So that would make my sweetspot around 130, which I am sure would alarm everyone I know if I were to get to that point.
3. The reason one lives longer on this particular diet seems to be that the poisons and toxins in foods that one eats tend to be stored in fat, where there is fat around in which to store such things. So less fat means that those toxins and poisons will be sloughed off as you eat only what you will burn up in energy. And I guess the less food one eats over all, the less the foods will poison you. And, of course, the healthier food one eats, the less one is poisoned. I think this is it, but I am going to read more about this.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
"The woman is almost always the first victim of a dictatorship"
Read the entire interview of Mario Vargas Llosa in the weekend edition of the WSJ, kindly reproduced without charge at OpinionJournal.com.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Movies
Sean keeps an eye on Kelly's blog, which is worth keeping an eye on. Sean points to Kelly's post on the updated American Film Institute's new top 100 "American" movies. It looks like political correctness is alive and well at the AFI.
I like Kelly's comments. For example, I couldn't agree more with his comment on Saving Private Ryan. But his comment on Gone With the Wind shouts "Yankee! Yankee! Yankee!" But some of my best friends are Yankees.
I like Kelly's comments. For example, I couldn't agree more with his comment on Saving Private Ryan. But his comment on Gone With the Wind shouts "Yankee! Yankee! Yankee!" But some of my best friends are Yankees.
Hello on Sunday.
Obama is a Bible reader.
Phoebe's portrait.
Build your own computer for $72? Sounds like fun!
The case against cardio.
Flash Gordan Conquers the Universe! John Williams has nothing on Franz Liszt, and other similarities. CW is one of the advanced technologies exhibited in this masterpiece. Plus one of the deepest thoughts ever affirmed on the silver screen: "There is no power in the universe powerful enough to destroy human thought." And don't you think that Buster Crabbe could be Billy Graham's uncle?
Phoebe's portrait.
Build your own computer for $72? Sounds like fun!
The case against cardio.
Flash Gordan Conquers the Universe! John Williams has nothing on Franz Liszt, and other similarities. CW is one of the advanced technologies exhibited in this masterpiece. Plus one of the deepest thoughts ever affirmed on the silver screen: "There is no power in the universe powerful enough to destroy human thought." And don't you think that Buster Crabbe could be Billy Graham's uncle?
Saturday, June 23, 2007
A Tall Poppy? Not I.
From a column by Dorothy Rabinowitz in Friday's WSJ.
Duke President Richard Brodhead was doubtless disturbed by the charges [in the Lacrosse team case] and the plight of the accused athletes. But that didn't prevent him from firing the lacrosse coach, in deference to the reigning hysteria--or treating the team members as though they merited shunning. For the most part, he kept his head down while the fires raged around him. His was, it should be said, not unusual behavior. The great consuming career goal of our college and university presidents--with the exception of oddities like Harvard's Larry Summers--has for more than two decades been the same: to avoid any word or deed that might incur the wrath of their gender- and race-obsessed faculties and allied campus activists. University presidents once had higher ambitions.
The entire article is worth reading.
Duke President Richard Brodhead was doubtless disturbed by the charges [in the Lacrosse team case] and the plight of the accused athletes. But that didn't prevent him from firing the lacrosse coach, in deference to the reigning hysteria--or treating the team members as though they merited shunning. For the most part, he kept his head down while the fires raged around him. His was, it should be said, not unusual behavior. The great consuming career goal of our college and university presidents--with the exception of oddities like Harvard's Larry Summers--has for more than two decades been the same: to avoid any word or deed that might incur the wrath of their gender- and race-obsessed faculties and allied campus activists. University presidents once had higher ambitions.
The entire article is worth reading.
Can it? Should it?
In an earlier post I posed the question "Can this marriage be saved?" in referring to the matter of a long-running disagreement between Carol and me over the question of whether any part of our precious lives should be spent engaged in board games and the like. I want to be sure that everyone understands the ironic allusion behind my use of the question "Can this marriage be saved?". It may not be obvious to younger members of the community.
"Can this marriage be saved?" was the title of a column in the Ladies' Home Journal, a women's magazine that was a best-seller in the 50s. The writer would present a particular non-fictional marital situation, one that seriously threatened the marriage, and then would offer suggestions on "saving" the marriage. The question, "Can this marriage be saved", crept into the language idiomatically, and, for example, one spouse would use the phrase as a sort of benediction after describing a not too serious disagreement with the other spouse.
I would see my mother reading that column sometimes and I would ask, "Should that marriage be saved?" But that was a little irreverent and, of course, not scriptural. My mother had an idiomatic phrase that she used in replying to me, her son, but I won't repeat it.
"Can this marriage be saved?" was the title of a column in the Ladies' Home Journal, a women's magazine that was a best-seller in the 50s. The writer would present a particular non-fictional marital situation, one that seriously threatened the marriage, and then would offer suggestions on "saving" the marriage. The question, "Can this marriage be saved", crept into the language idiomatically, and, for example, one spouse would use the phrase as a sort of benediction after describing a not too serious disagreement with the other spouse.
I would see my mother reading that column sometimes and I would ask, "Should that marriage be saved?" But that was a little irreverent and, of course, not scriptural. My mother had an idiomatic phrase that she used in replying to me, her son, but I won't repeat it.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
3,500
The average number of abortions that were performed daily in the U.S. in 2002, according to US Census figures. But don't worry, immigration will make up for it.
On the other hand, there's this.
On the other hand, there's this.
"Flightplan"
Saw this movie with Jodie Foster on DVD last night. (By that I mean Jodie Foster was in the movie and I saw the movie. Jodie and I, in other words, were not on a movie date.)
(No Wednesday night Bible study for the rest of the summer. There was some sort of board-game activity last night at church. I should say "bored-game night". I came home after the supper. Carol, on the other hand, stayed on. She was in her element with the bored games and enjoyed every minute of them. Which leads to the question, "Can this marriage be saved?")
(Alert! Alert! I may give away too much of this movie.)
Anyway, I put on this DVD. It's not the kind Carol would have enjoyed: mother loses her kid on transatlantic flight and everyone else thinks she's delusional and never brought the kid on board in the first place. The movie is spookily dark. Jodie Foster is at her usual best, and Sean Bean plays the captain of the airplane, a giant 757 sort of thing. He's good, playing a slightly befuddled, tough, good guy. (He was in Lord of the Rings, the original member of the Fellowship who gets killed by orcs toward the end of the first movie. Hollywood can't decide whether he should be a hero or a villain when they cast him. He can go either way.)
The plot moved quickly, so quickly that after the movie I was unable to explain the plot to Carol. But it seemed to make plenty of sense as it was flying by. Of course, it comes out OK at the end, but the denouement is disappointing.
What disturbed me about the denouement is that the Jodie Foster character is essentially unforgiving of the people who didn't believe her, in particular the captain and an Arab passenger whom she erroneously suggested had been looking in her daughter's bedroom window before they left for the airport. During the denouement, both of them make gestures of regret about their not believing her, and she just looks at them without saying anything like, "Gee, I can understand the position you were in with me, although you probably should have realized this movie was made in Hollywood and I'm Jodie Foster. But it's OK."
I guess forgiveness - grace - is not a big value in Hollywood. But the movie disappointed me in that respect. I would have given it a B, even a B+, with an appropriate denouement. Instead, it gets the B-.
(No Wednesday night Bible study for the rest of the summer. There was some sort of board-game activity last night at church. I should say "bored-game night". I came home after the supper. Carol, on the other hand, stayed on. She was in her element with the bored games and enjoyed every minute of them. Which leads to the question, "Can this marriage be saved?")
(Alert! Alert! I may give away too much of this movie.)
Anyway, I put on this DVD. It's not the kind Carol would have enjoyed: mother loses her kid on transatlantic flight and everyone else thinks she's delusional and never brought the kid on board in the first place. The movie is spookily dark. Jodie Foster is at her usual best, and Sean Bean plays the captain of the airplane, a giant 757 sort of thing. He's good, playing a slightly befuddled, tough, good guy. (He was in Lord of the Rings, the original member of the Fellowship who gets killed by orcs toward the end of the first movie. Hollywood can't decide whether he should be a hero or a villain when they cast him. He can go either way.)
The plot moved quickly, so quickly that after the movie I was unable to explain the plot to Carol. But it seemed to make plenty of sense as it was flying by. Of course, it comes out OK at the end, but the denouement is disappointing.
What disturbed me about the denouement is that the Jodie Foster character is essentially unforgiving of the people who didn't believe her, in particular the captain and an Arab passenger whom she erroneously suggested had been looking in her daughter's bedroom window before they left for the airport. During the denouement, both of them make gestures of regret about their not believing her, and she just looks at them without saying anything like, "Gee, I can understand the position you were in with me, although you probably should have realized this movie was made in Hollywood and I'm Jodie Foster. But it's OK."
I guess forgiveness - grace - is not a big value in Hollywood. But the movie disappointed me in that respect. I would have given it a B, even a B+, with an appropriate denouement. Instead, it gets the B-.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
I, Claudius
I, Claudius was on Ann Perry's list of favorites that I mentioned in a post on May 17. I just finished reading it. It is an historical novel written in the 1930s. Robert Graves, the author, drew together all sorts of historical materials concerning the reigns of Caesar Augustus, Tiberius Caesar, Caligula, and finally Claudius himself (him, briefly, but there is a sequel Graves wrote just about his reign). Graves used a fictional narrative purportedly written in the first person by Claudius.
I have been reading Livy's, The Early History of Rome, which is so densely written (at least to me) that I can only read it in short sittings - but I am making good progress. It is "history" and not fiction, but it has the same feel as I, Claudius without the characterizations that help move Graves' narrative along. I enjoyed I, Claudius, and I continue to enjoy the bits and pieces of Livy that I am reading. (I'll finish it one day.)
Maybe you saw the Masterpiece Theatre series, I Claudius. It was broadcast at a busy time of my life, and I didn't get to see it. But I've ordered the first two DVDs of it from NetFlix. It was allegedly the most popular Masterpiece Theatre series of all time.
I have been reading Livy's, The Early History of Rome, which is so densely written (at least to me) that I can only read it in short sittings - but I am making good progress. It is "history" and not fiction, but it has the same feel as I, Claudius without the characterizations that help move Graves' narrative along. I enjoyed I, Claudius, and I continue to enjoy the bits and pieces of Livy that I am reading. (I'll finish it one day.)
Maybe you saw the Masterpiece Theatre series, I Claudius. It was broadcast at a busy time of my life, and I didn't get to see it. But I've ordered the first two DVDs of it from NetFlix. It was allegedly the most popular Masterpiece Theatre series of all time.
Email Survival
I was going to title this post "Email Management", but I realized that I do not find myself even near an "email management" status; I'm simply trying to survive. I would like to know how the community is dealing with their emails these days. I am not doing well.
At my former firm (KDW) when email first began to become prominent, the lawyers were very careful about publishing their email addresses. For example, a client would ask a lawyer's secretary for the boss's email address, and the secretary said "she [or he] would check", and not give it out without permission. An email address was treated something like a cellphone number is now treated (or itself used to be treated).
Now our email addresses are printed on our business cards and stationary. They are better known than our mailing addresses and telephone numbers. They tumble in, not mediated by receptionists, mail room clerks, and secretaries. They come in without any priority except the time of receipt. Nowadays, they come in with a receipt feature, so the sender will know if and when I opened it, and I would not be able to duck it by using "my spam filter ate your email" white lie. (Anyway, we are criticized for not reviewing what our spam filter eats.) Not that I would use such a lie, of course.
I have started using Outlook "rules" to try to herd some of this stuff. I have tried telling people who are not clients to use my home email, and that's very often ignored.
Macon told me that he has (or is thinking about) an automatic response that says something like "I'll get back to you within 24 hours". I am thinking about "I'll get back to you in about 24 weeks".
I would appreciate suggestions and links to advice on managing this mixed blessing of email. I suggest we label such posts "email survival".
Don't send me an email on this. Just post something.
At my former firm (KDW) when email first began to become prominent, the lawyers were very careful about publishing their email addresses. For example, a client would ask a lawyer's secretary for the boss's email address, and the secretary said "she [or he] would check", and not give it out without permission. An email address was treated something like a cellphone number is now treated (or itself used to be treated).
Now our email addresses are printed on our business cards and stationary. They are better known than our mailing addresses and telephone numbers. They tumble in, not mediated by receptionists, mail room clerks, and secretaries. They come in without any priority except the time of receipt. Nowadays, they come in with a receipt feature, so the sender will know if and when I opened it, and I would not be able to duck it by using "my spam filter ate your email" white lie. (Anyway, we are criticized for not reviewing what our spam filter eats.) Not that I would use such a lie, of course.
I have started using Outlook "rules" to try to herd some of this stuff. I have tried telling people who are not clients to use my home email, and that's very often ignored.
Macon told me that he has (or is thinking about) an automatic response that says something like "I'll get back to you within 24 hours". I am thinking about "I'll get back to you in about 24 weeks".
I would appreciate suggestions and links to advice on managing this mixed blessing of email. I suggest we label such posts "email survival".
Don't send me an email on this. Just post something.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
A Duke Faculty Member for a Duke Alum to be Proud Of
Steve Baldwin, Professor of Chemistry.
Here is a post about him and what he had to say about the Lacrosse Travesty. Be sure to follow the link to what he wrote last year in the Duke Chronicle, the student newspaper. (Thanks, Instapundit.)
Here is a post about him and what he had to say about the Lacrosse Travesty. Be sure to follow the link to what he wrote last year in the Duke Chronicle, the student newspaper. (Thanks, Instapundit.)
Monday, June 18, 2007
Steve Peifer's Computer Ministry
Macon and I have posted about Steve's work in Africa before, and I am going back and label those posts "Steve Peifer". His computer ministry, to which I made oblique reference when I was suggesting Father's Day gifts, is now featured on the AIM website. (Mary sent me the link.)
Sunday, June 17, 2007
"God said, 'Put down the Boxing Gloves'."
In a comment to Kellsey's great Rhythms post, a friend of her's, Nancy, tells her that a mutual friend of the two of them, a young woman, has died of cancer. Nancy writes:
[Sandra] would have been 31 on June 30. After fighting cancer for 3 1/2 years, she is no longer in pain. A week before she passed she said that God was telling her to put down the boxing gloves. Now she is celebrating with her dad and our Heavenly Father.
(Nancy solicits prayers for Sandra's family.)
Such a poignant metaphor - "Put down the boxing gloves" - especially in the context of a mortal disease. But I would think it applies to everyday life as well. God says, "Put down the boxing gloves, I have plans for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." See Jeremiah 29.11
[Sandra] would have been 31 on June 30. After fighting cancer for 3 1/2 years, she is no longer in pain. A week before she passed she said that God was telling her to put down the boxing gloves. Now she is celebrating with her dad and our Heavenly Father.
(Nancy solicits prayers for Sandra's family.)
Such a poignant metaphor - "Put down the boxing gloves" - especially in the context of a mortal disease. But I would think it applies to everyday life as well. God says, "Put down the boxing gloves, I have plans for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." See Jeremiah 29.11
"A Lot of Blocks in Miami"
We spoke with Mary this morning. She described a shopping trip that took her to a little stand where a Kenyan was selling the sort of scarves she was looking for. She said that when you discuss a possible sale with a Kenyan shopkeeper, they fall into conversation with you (probably to disarm the shopper - a great technique!). She said that the Kenyan asked where she was from, and Mary said "Miami", of course.
"Oh, there are a lot of blocks there."
Mary didn't know what to say to that. Yes, she could say, there are blocks, and streets, traffic circles, parks and such in Miami.
"Blocks?"
"Yes, blocks."
Then she realized he meant Blacks, as in Black people. How politically incorrect, she thought. He should really say African-Americans, she found herself thinking.
"Oh, you mean "Blacks"! Right, there are many Blacks there. And a lot of Latin people too, who speak Spanish."
"Do you speak Spanish", he asked?
"Yes, I do, but I want to learn Swahili".
"Yes, you should learn Swahili."
Mary said it would probably have been foolish to describe to the Kenyan the "blocks" in Miami as "African-Americans". I would agree. I think its a little foolish to describe them that way over here too. I think of them as, well, Americans. Haven't we all been trying to think of each other as Americans for quite some time?
"Oh, there are a lot of blocks there."
Mary didn't know what to say to that. Yes, she could say, there are blocks, and streets, traffic circles, parks and such in Miami.
"Blocks?"
"Yes, blocks."
Then she realized he meant Blacks, as in Black people. How politically incorrect, she thought. He should really say African-Americans, she found herself thinking.
"Oh, you mean "Blacks"! Right, there are many Blacks there. And a lot of Latin people too, who speak Spanish."
"Do you speak Spanish", he asked?
"Yes, I do, but I want to learn Swahili".
"Yes, you should learn Swahili."
Mary said it would probably have been foolish to describe to the Kenyan the "blocks" in Miami as "African-Americans". I would agree. I think its a little foolish to describe them that way over here too. I think of them as, well, Americans. Haven't we all been trying to think of each other as Americans for quite some time?
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Friday, June 15, 2007
"Life with Father: What Kids Get from Time with Dad"
If you can get your hands on yesterday's WSJ, turn to page D1 and read Sue Shellenbarger's "Work & Family" column with this title. She writes about the special ways that dads positively impact their children, even if they are not able to spend as much time with them as mothers sometimes are, especially when the children are toddlers, but later as well.
For one thing, dads get physical with their children in a way that mothers don't. This was called "rough-housing" when I was growing up, and it was fun to rough-house with the boys, even when they were tiny. (I was more reserved with Mary. She's a girl, after all.) We would "wrestle", rolling over and over on the floor, with my protecting them with my elbows as my embrace trapped them against my chest when I rolled on top. That was great fun.
Another thing she mentions is that dads talk to their little ones differently. They tend to talk to them as they would to grown-ups. I remember that too. I would intentionally use adult words that I knew they wouldn't know, just to get them at least familiar with the sound. And then I would give them longer answers to their questions than one might expect. If an answer led to another topic, then I would discuss that topic. (At the very least, this approach would lead them to thinking about taking a nap as Dad dronned on and on and on.)
She mentions playing games. (Not board games!!!!) Hide and seek was really fun. Once I had a couple of two way radios, and put one in a closet and then I hid elsewhere in the house. As they were getting close to my hiding place, I would whisper in my radio, and it would make a sound where I had hidden the other, and off they would go!
We also had a really grotesque halloween mask, one that would fit over one's entire head, and I would put it on a soccor ball. Then I would put it in various surprising places and scare the heck out of them when they opened a closet door or a drawer or whereever. One night, before they went to bed, I put the thing on the pillow of one of the boy's bunks, and pulled the covers up to it after placing other pillows under the covers to make the shape of a body. Another night I propped the thing outside their bedroom window, looking in.
Then she mentions how dad's deal with behavior. She said that they are more likely to warn a child about "real-world" consequences that would attend bad behavior than mom's. I recall warning one of my children that his/her unfriendly behavior to his/her sibling(s) could result in their not being friends when they grew up. He/she took that seriously I think, and they are now great friends. Or maybe they would have been great friends anyway. (After all, they obviously had a common enemy.)
If you are a dad, you will find that article very encouraging and not feel so bad about spending less time with them than, perhaps, their mother. That sounds like the old "quality time" excuse, but I think Ms. Shellenbarger has a point. (We had a joke about quality time vs. quantity time around our household. When the kids and I were just goofing off, we called that "quantity time" and loved it.)
For one thing, dads get physical with their children in a way that mothers don't. This was called "rough-housing" when I was growing up, and it was fun to rough-house with the boys, even when they were tiny. (I was more reserved with Mary. She's a girl, after all.) We would "wrestle", rolling over and over on the floor, with my protecting them with my elbows as my embrace trapped them against my chest when I rolled on top. That was great fun.
Another thing she mentions is that dads talk to their little ones differently. They tend to talk to them as they would to grown-ups. I remember that too. I would intentionally use adult words that I knew they wouldn't know, just to get them at least familiar with the sound. And then I would give them longer answers to their questions than one might expect. If an answer led to another topic, then I would discuss that topic. (At the very least, this approach would lead them to thinking about taking a nap as Dad dronned on and on and on.)
She mentions playing games. (Not board games!!!!) Hide and seek was really fun. Once I had a couple of two way radios, and put one in a closet and then I hid elsewhere in the house. As they were getting close to my hiding place, I would whisper in my radio, and it would make a sound where I had hidden the other, and off they would go!
We also had a really grotesque halloween mask, one that would fit over one's entire head, and I would put it on a soccor ball. Then I would put it in various surprising places and scare the heck out of them when they opened a closet door or a drawer or whereever. One night, before they went to bed, I put the thing on the pillow of one of the boy's bunks, and pulled the covers up to it after placing other pillows under the covers to make the shape of a body. Another night I propped the thing outside their bedroom window, looking in.
Then she mentions how dad's deal with behavior. She said that they are more likely to warn a child about "real-world" consequences that would attend bad behavior than mom's. I recall warning one of my children that his/her unfriendly behavior to his/her sibling(s) could result in their not being friends when they grew up. He/she took that seriously I think, and they are now great friends. Or maybe they would have been great friends anyway. (After all, they obviously had a common enemy.)
If you are a dad, you will find that article very encouraging and not feel so bad about spending less time with them than, perhaps, their mother. That sounds like the old "quality time" excuse, but I think Ms. Shellenbarger has a point. (We had a joke about quality time vs. quantity time around our household. When the kids and I were just goofing off, we called that "quantity time" and loved it.)
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
"Africa should stand on its own two feet"
When we visited Mary in Kenya, we had dinner with a third generation missionary who had been born and raised in Kenya. He spoke to us of his frustration. He values the idea of providing the resources to the Kenyans to build their own country, but he laments the fact that they largely waste what is given them and nothing is accomplished. They are often back for more help, depending on the white missionary to solve their problems. He said to me, "I just don't know what is to be done!"
Carol brought to my attention this interview in Der Speigal of Kenyan economics expert James Shikwati, and it is well worth the read. (Glen Reynolds links to it on Instapundit.com). Shikwati cries, "For God's sake, please stop the aid."
A mere ten days in Kenya hardly makes one an expert, but I came away thinking that the main thing these people need is the Gospel. See Acts 3:1-10. And John 5: 2-9.
UPDATE: This on the West's patronizing interference with Africans regarding the malaria menace.
Carol brought to my attention this interview in Der Speigal of Kenyan economics expert James Shikwati, and it is well worth the read. (Glen Reynolds links to it on Instapundit.com). Shikwati cries, "For God's sake, please stop the aid."
A mere ten days in Kenya hardly makes one an expert, but I came away thinking that the main thing these people need is the Gospel. See Acts 3:1-10. And John 5: 2-9.
UPDATE: This on the West's patronizing interference with Africans regarding the malaria menace.
The Make Way Partners Report 30 May 200
Dear Friends,
This week’s story is longer than most. It is the story of Mary Adut, the oldest girl in our school in Sudan. Mary knows that girls don’t have many opportunities in Sudan and has fought hard to be faithful with the privileges she receives through Make Way Partners, especially her education. Please read to see what a difference your support for the children of Sudan is making.
In Christ,
Kimberly L. Smith
Executive Director
· To learn more about Make Way Partners Child Sponsorship Program click here
· To become a Child Sponsor and be a part of a transforming ministry to those at risk click here.
Become a Child Sponsor Today!
If you can’t save them all, what difference does saving
one child from slavery make?
(Kimberly Smith and Mary Adut)
I was the first white woman she had ever seen. It was my second trip to her school in Sudan, but my first visit was for just a few days, and I was with a large team of men. This time the word was out – the ‘white woman’ was there for two months, and alone.
The pilot of my small, chartered plane circled the dirt airstrip where I could see hundreds of Sudanese below waiting to greet me. The landing kicked up so much dust that I lost sight of them for several moments. As the pilot opened the door, it was their beautiful voices singing praises to Jesus that first greeted me.
From there on everything happened so fast. The crowd pressed in; everyone wanted to touch the ‘white woman’. Within moments of my foot leaving the last step of the pull-up ladder descending from the plane, the pilot threw my bag to the ground and started his engine to leave. As the crowd sang, cried, danced and grabbed at me, the plane took off. I now had no transportation, no satellite phone and no other American with whom to talk.
Soon, Mary made her move. A tall, strikingly beautiful girl, who I guessed to be about 12 years old, took the lead. With wide eyes blazing directly into mine, she put out her hand as if to take my hand and said in precise English, “My name is Mary.” Impressed, I started to take her hand. Just as our fingertips brushed, Mary withdrew her hand, threw back her head and laughed as if she had made the biggest joke of the year. The two girls with Mary cackled bravely along with her.
I figured, “12 year-old girls are 12 year-old girls all around the world.” They threw their arms around me, and we continued our walk together toward the compound and New life Ministry School. Several of the teachers (who are all male) and a horde of children walked with us. The singing and drumming set the pace and spirit as the girls laughed and danced around me.
Once we arrived at the schoolyard, the boys beat a massive drum while the other children gathered in a large circle around them. Mary and her two friends jumped to the center of the circle where the trio danced to the beat of the boys’ drumming. I stood on the inner fringe of the circle watching with pure joy and utter amazement. Suddenly, Mary rushed over, grabbed my arm and pulled me into the circle. I quickly learned that Mary’s precise English was limited to a few practiced phrases. However, it didn’t take verbal language to understand that she and her friends wanted the tindeet (old woman) to dance with them.
My first attempt at trying to acclimate myself to the Sudanese form of celebration and worship – I danced. Mary led the trio in laughing as only preteen girls can laugh at other females. I had to laugh at myself as well; I was certain that I was a ridiculous sight indeed! A three-day trip to get to them had surely taken its toll on my appearance even without the aid of my combat style hiking boots, filthy cargo pants and unruly, dirty hair! So, together, we danced, and laughed at me.
James came over to the dancing circle. As soon as he approached, he began to sternly scold Mary and her sidekicks. The gaiety died, and all the children were sent back to class. As we walked from the schoolyard, I asked James to explain to me what had just transpired. He told me that the girls were laughing at me and he could not tolerate that. They must be disciplined and learn to respect their elders.
I told James that all girls go through a time of challenging or competing with older women, just as boys do with men. But girls and women have a different style. I asked James if he would permit me some time with the young girls to earn their respect. This was a foreign thought to James – to earn respect. In his experience, you either respect the authority or be severely disciplined.
James desires to grow strong and healthy leaders among his people so he was open to my suggestion, but he told me he would not tolerate the girls laughing at me or being disrespectful in any way. Reiterating that I would need time and his patience as the girls and I learned one another, he agreed.
It didn’t take long for the girls to seek me out. With Mary in the lead, they found me in church. They found me in my tent. They found me on a walk. They found me in the latrine! Each time, the others would hide slightly behind Mary while she would first ‘invite’ me into some interchange so that she could get the upper hand by rebuffing my response to her. When we walked together, Mary would often run a few feet ahead so that she could mock the way I walked or carried a stick (to ward off rabid dogs).
Each time James caught Mary mocking me or displaying some form of disrespect, he intervened to discipline her. I again appealed to James to allow time and relationship building. I told him that young girls who have been through such unthinkable things as these girls have experienced could not be forced into submission, but they could be loved into healing and eventually, true service. Frustrated, but not knowing what else to do with females, James agreed to turn Mary and her ‘shadows’ over to me.
Then my big break came. All week long, the school was abuzz because of a soccer game being planned for Sunday evening. One of our donors had given 50 soccer balls for children in the area, and our school had kept several. I heard chatter about the ‘big game’ everyday.
It was all very informal. Two of our school helpers arranged the game; whoever showed up could play. We waited until late in the evening, a couple of hours before sunset, so that the heat was not so intense. I had never played soccer, but I wanted to join in. So, without thinking much about it, I joined in.
Our ‘soccer field’ was an area in the bush where the children had worked with relentless vigor to clear out all thorns, debris and roots. With only small tools, not much more effective than spoons, it had been taxing work!
Once on the ‘field’, I noticed there were no girls. I asked James about it; he told me that the girls didn’t like soccer, only volleyball. I was heartbroken! I had only been told about the love of soccer in Sudan so I had only asked our donors for soccer balls. Had I known girls loved volleyball, I would have asked for volleyballs also. I was confused because I had seen the girls working just as hard to clear the field, as had the boys.
After some initial jockeying among the boys over who was on whose team, the game began. I was amazed at how good the boys were! I ran the best I could and played as hard as I could for nearly an hour. Spent, I went to the edge of the ‘field’ to sit on a mahogany tree branch lying on the ground. Other late-arriving boys joined in or out of the game without interruption to the play.
Within moments I saw Mary and several other girls walking toward me. I was accustomed to basking in their high spirit; I had never seen them so crestfallen. I watched cautiously as the girls found a place beside me on the mahogany branch. After a few moments of pregnant silence, I asked Mary what was wrong. She moaned, “We want to play soccer.” I was delighted. I said, “Great! Go ahead.” A wide smile consumed her face, “Really?” “Sure!” I said.
Mary and several of the girls got up and took off. About 20 feet away from me, they stopped in their tracks and turned to me, “You come with us. You play, too.” Still tired, I simply could not run in the heat one more step. “Sorry. You go ahead.” Satisfied, they ran onto the field.
Immediately the game came to an abrupt halt. Hoping to avoid hoisting myself from my perch, I tried to discern what was going on. I could hear shouting but could not make out the words. Then pushing began. I ran to the center of the field.
The main spokespersons for the dispute were Mary and a young boy Deng for whom moments earlier I had fought for his right to play. When Deng first showed up, none of the boys wanted to let him join the game; they said he was too small. I defended his right to play since it was a game for all the school. The larger boys relented. Deng ended up being a tremendous player and both sides now wanted him on their team.
However, none of the boys wanted girls to play, and Deng was the ringleader in keeping them off the field. I looked at the school staff (all male) who stood on the boys’ side without speaking. I addressed them. “The girls would like to join the game. Are you going to let them play?” The men looked at the ground, kicking it like little boys and said, “Girls don’t play soccer. They only like Volleyball.”
“These girls say they love soccer and want to play. Are you going to let them play?” They answered, “In Sudan, girls don’t play soccer.” I reminded them that I played and no one complained, which set precedence. I said, “How can we tell them they can’t play? I need your support on this. Can the girls play?”
As Deng felt the male staff crumbling, he had held his peace about as long as he could and shouted, “Girls can’t play soccer!” I reminded Deng of what the larger boys said about him just moments before that; and if I hadn’t fought for his right to play, he would still be crying on the bench. “Don’t you want to help someone else who is being sidelined also?” I asked. Deng shook his head, “No! If girls are going to play, then I quit!” I said, “Fine, but you can watch us from your seat on the mahogany bench if you like!” Suddenly, the staff laughed. The boys jokingly punched Deng in the arm and said, “Let’s just play.” The game was on.
Exhausted, but filled with joy for Mary and her friends, I made my way back to the mahogany bench where I was better suited. It only took a few moments for me to figure out why the boys didn’t want the girls to play. They ran like the wind and had far better coordination at this age than did the boys. I knew, in time, the boys would out maneuver them for they had much more practiced skill since the girls never got to play. But for now, the girls surely gave the boys a run for their pride.
From that moment on, Mary has never laughed at me or mocked me. She still seeks me out but now it is for a hug, to practice her English reading or to paint our toenails.
For three years now I have watched Mary grow in stature and in wisdom. I have seen her struggle to leave behind the rebellious girl-child and grow into a woman of wise council and leadership. She has fought with and for those same girls, who used to just follow her around to make fun of others, to help them understand their value and responsibility to become educated, Christian women leading their people to freedom in Christ.
When the meningitis outbreak hit us this winter, we almost lost Mary. She became the sickest of any meningitis survivor that we had. Without your prayers and financial support to provide food, medicine and medical help, I believe Mary would have died. Then, the people of Sudan would have been denied a powerful woman of the Lord, which I have no doubt, with your continued prayers and support, will remain faithful in the Lord’s work to set the captives free!
http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif
Join us to combat human trafficking.
To save a child like Mary and support a future leader in Sudan costs only about a dollar a day.
Make Way Partners
P.O. Box 26367
Birmingham, AL 35260 U.S.A
This week’s story is longer than most. It is the story of Mary Adut, the oldest girl in our school in Sudan. Mary knows that girls don’t have many opportunities in Sudan and has fought hard to be faithful with the privileges she receives through Make Way Partners, especially her education. Please read to see what a difference your support for the children of Sudan is making.
In Christ,
Kimberly L. Smith
Executive Director
· To learn more about Make Way Partners Child Sponsorship Program click here
· To become a Child Sponsor and be a part of a transforming ministry to those at risk click here.
Become a Child Sponsor Today!
If you can’t save them all, what difference does saving
one child from slavery make?
(Kimberly Smith and Mary Adut)
I was the first white woman she had ever seen. It was my second trip to her school in Sudan, but my first visit was for just a few days, and I was with a large team of men. This time the word was out – the ‘white woman’ was there for two months, and alone.
The pilot of my small, chartered plane circled the dirt airstrip where I could see hundreds of Sudanese below waiting to greet me. The landing kicked up so much dust that I lost sight of them for several moments. As the pilot opened the door, it was their beautiful voices singing praises to Jesus that first greeted me.
From there on everything happened so fast. The crowd pressed in; everyone wanted to touch the ‘white woman’. Within moments of my foot leaving the last step of the pull-up ladder descending from the plane, the pilot threw my bag to the ground and started his engine to leave. As the crowd sang, cried, danced and grabbed at me, the plane took off. I now had no transportation, no satellite phone and no other American with whom to talk.
Soon, Mary made her move. A tall, strikingly beautiful girl, who I guessed to be about 12 years old, took the lead. With wide eyes blazing directly into mine, she put out her hand as if to take my hand and said in precise English, “My name is Mary.” Impressed, I started to take her hand. Just as our fingertips brushed, Mary withdrew her hand, threw back her head and laughed as if she had made the biggest joke of the year. The two girls with Mary cackled bravely along with her.
I figured, “12 year-old girls are 12 year-old girls all around the world.” They threw their arms around me, and we continued our walk together toward the compound and New life Ministry School. Several of the teachers (who are all male) and a horde of children walked with us. The singing and drumming set the pace and spirit as the girls laughed and danced around me.
Once we arrived at the schoolyard, the boys beat a massive drum while the other children gathered in a large circle around them. Mary and her two friends jumped to the center of the circle where the trio danced to the beat of the boys’ drumming. I stood on the inner fringe of the circle watching with pure joy and utter amazement. Suddenly, Mary rushed over, grabbed my arm and pulled me into the circle. I quickly learned that Mary’s precise English was limited to a few practiced phrases. However, it didn’t take verbal language to understand that she and her friends wanted the tindeet (old woman) to dance with them.
My first attempt at trying to acclimate myself to the Sudanese form of celebration and worship – I danced. Mary led the trio in laughing as only preteen girls can laugh at other females. I had to laugh at myself as well; I was certain that I was a ridiculous sight indeed! A three-day trip to get to them had surely taken its toll on my appearance even without the aid of my combat style hiking boots, filthy cargo pants and unruly, dirty hair! So, together, we danced, and laughed at me.
James came over to the dancing circle. As soon as he approached, he began to sternly scold Mary and her sidekicks. The gaiety died, and all the children were sent back to class. As we walked from the schoolyard, I asked James to explain to me what had just transpired. He told me that the girls were laughing at me and he could not tolerate that. They must be disciplined and learn to respect their elders.
I told James that all girls go through a time of challenging or competing with older women, just as boys do with men. But girls and women have a different style. I asked James if he would permit me some time with the young girls to earn their respect. This was a foreign thought to James – to earn respect. In his experience, you either respect the authority or be severely disciplined.
James desires to grow strong and healthy leaders among his people so he was open to my suggestion, but he told me he would not tolerate the girls laughing at me or being disrespectful in any way. Reiterating that I would need time and his patience as the girls and I learned one another, he agreed.
It didn’t take long for the girls to seek me out. With Mary in the lead, they found me in church. They found me in my tent. They found me on a walk. They found me in the latrine! Each time, the others would hide slightly behind Mary while she would first ‘invite’ me into some interchange so that she could get the upper hand by rebuffing my response to her. When we walked together, Mary would often run a few feet ahead so that she could mock the way I walked or carried a stick (to ward off rabid dogs).
Each time James caught Mary mocking me or displaying some form of disrespect, he intervened to discipline her. I again appealed to James to allow time and relationship building. I told him that young girls who have been through such unthinkable things as these girls have experienced could not be forced into submission, but they could be loved into healing and eventually, true service. Frustrated, but not knowing what else to do with females, James agreed to turn Mary and her ‘shadows’ over to me.
Then my big break came. All week long, the school was abuzz because of a soccer game being planned for Sunday evening. One of our donors had given 50 soccer balls for children in the area, and our school had kept several. I heard chatter about the ‘big game’ everyday.
It was all very informal. Two of our school helpers arranged the game; whoever showed up could play. We waited until late in the evening, a couple of hours before sunset, so that the heat was not so intense. I had never played soccer, but I wanted to join in. So, without thinking much about it, I joined in.
Our ‘soccer field’ was an area in the bush where the children had worked with relentless vigor to clear out all thorns, debris and roots. With only small tools, not much more effective than spoons, it had been taxing work!
Once on the ‘field’, I noticed there were no girls. I asked James about it; he told me that the girls didn’t like soccer, only volleyball. I was heartbroken! I had only been told about the love of soccer in Sudan so I had only asked our donors for soccer balls. Had I known girls loved volleyball, I would have asked for volleyballs also. I was confused because I had seen the girls working just as hard to clear the field, as had the boys.
After some initial jockeying among the boys over who was on whose team, the game began. I was amazed at how good the boys were! I ran the best I could and played as hard as I could for nearly an hour. Spent, I went to the edge of the ‘field’ to sit on a mahogany tree branch lying on the ground. Other late-arriving boys joined in or out of the game without interruption to the play.
Within moments I saw Mary and several other girls walking toward me. I was accustomed to basking in their high spirit; I had never seen them so crestfallen. I watched cautiously as the girls found a place beside me on the mahogany branch. After a few moments of pregnant silence, I asked Mary what was wrong. She moaned, “We want to play soccer.” I was delighted. I said, “Great! Go ahead.” A wide smile consumed her face, “Really?” “Sure!” I said.
Mary and several of the girls got up and took off. About 20 feet away from me, they stopped in their tracks and turned to me, “You come with us. You play, too.” Still tired, I simply could not run in the heat one more step. “Sorry. You go ahead.” Satisfied, they ran onto the field.
Immediately the game came to an abrupt halt. Hoping to avoid hoisting myself from my perch, I tried to discern what was going on. I could hear shouting but could not make out the words. Then pushing began. I ran to the center of the field.
The main spokespersons for the dispute were Mary and a young boy Deng for whom moments earlier I had fought for his right to play. When Deng first showed up, none of the boys wanted to let him join the game; they said he was too small. I defended his right to play since it was a game for all the school. The larger boys relented. Deng ended up being a tremendous player and both sides now wanted him on their team.
However, none of the boys wanted girls to play, and Deng was the ringleader in keeping them off the field. I looked at the school staff (all male) who stood on the boys’ side without speaking. I addressed them. “The girls would like to join the game. Are you going to let them play?” The men looked at the ground, kicking it like little boys and said, “Girls don’t play soccer. They only like Volleyball.”
“These girls say they love soccer and want to play. Are you going to let them play?” They answered, “In Sudan, girls don’t play soccer.” I reminded them that I played and no one complained, which set precedence. I said, “How can we tell them they can’t play? I need your support on this. Can the girls play?”
As Deng felt the male staff crumbling, he had held his peace about as long as he could and shouted, “Girls can’t play soccer!” I reminded Deng of what the larger boys said about him just moments before that; and if I hadn’t fought for his right to play, he would still be crying on the bench. “Don’t you want to help someone else who is being sidelined also?” I asked. Deng shook his head, “No! If girls are going to play, then I quit!” I said, “Fine, but you can watch us from your seat on the mahogany bench if you like!” Suddenly, the staff laughed. The boys jokingly punched Deng in the arm and said, “Let’s just play.” The game was on.
Exhausted, but filled with joy for Mary and her friends, I made my way back to the mahogany bench where I was better suited. It only took a few moments for me to figure out why the boys didn’t want the girls to play. They ran like the wind and had far better coordination at this age than did the boys. I knew, in time, the boys would out maneuver them for they had much more practiced skill since the girls never got to play. But for now, the girls surely gave the boys a run for their pride.
From that moment on, Mary has never laughed at me or mocked me. She still seeks me out but now it is for a hug, to practice her English reading or to paint our toenails.
For three years now I have watched Mary grow in stature and in wisdom. I have seen her struggle to leave behind the rebellious girl-child and grow into a woman of wise council and leadership. She has fought with and for those same girls, who used to just follow her around to make fun of others, to help them understand their value and responsibility to become educated, Christian women leading their people to freedom in Christ.
When the meningitis outbreak hit us this winter, we almost lost Mary. She became the sickest of any meningitis survivor that we had. Without your prayers and financial support to provide food, medicine and medical help, I believe Mary would have died. Then, the people of Sudan would have been denied a powerful woman of the Lord, which I have no doubt, with your continued prayers and support, will remain faithful in the Lord’s work to set the captives free!
http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif
Join us to combat human trafficking.
To save a child like Mary and support a future leader in Sudan costs only about a dollar a day.
Make Way Partners
P.O. Box 26367
Birmingham, AL 35260 U.S.A
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Obscure (to me) but Interesting (to me) Christian Things
I'm calling out Macon to comment on Robert's post here.
Candidates' Religious Affiliation
Sean credits Brad with finding this link that runs down the religious affiliations of the Presidential candidates. They are fun to consider:
1. Isn't Hillary's response just so predictable?
2. I liked the honesty of Kucinich's response. I like him too. Not as a President, but as to what I perceive to be his character.
3. Don't you think Giuliani's response is just a little testy? And how is God these days, Rudy?
4. Some mixed religious practices here. Brownback is a Catholic in the AM and an Evangelical in the evening. And McCain too. A Baptist Episcopalian. Do you think its the drinking-in-public thing? Do you think that if the Baptists came on out of the alcohol closet they would pick up thousands of Episcopalians? I think so. Drop the grape juice, guys. Let's have some wine!
5. Boy, the Methodists are all over the block. We have Edwards and we have have Gilmore. But the Methodists have always been all over the block.
6. Obama is UCC. "Unitarians Considering Christianity", I've heard it said.
7. Tancredo is a Presbyterian. I'm so embarrassed.
8. Fred? Fred?
9. Romney. The article says all of the candidates are Christians. The AP, then, has decided the question of whether Mormons are Christians. I'm glad we settled that. If Romney's candidacy does nothing else, he has scored a victory for the Mormons. They are finally seen as one of us. At least by the AP.
1. Isn't Hillary's response just so predictable?
2. I liked the honesty of Kucinich's response. I like him too. Not as a President, but as to what I perceive to be his character.
3. Don't you think Giuliani's response is just a little testy? And how is God these days, Rudy?
4. Some mixed religious practices here. Brownback is a Catholic in the AM and an Evangelical in the evening. And McCain too. A Baptist Episcopalian. Do you think its the drinking-in-public thing? Do you think that if the Baptists came on out of the alcohol closet they would pick up thousands of Episcopalians? I think so. Drop the grape juice, guys. Let's have some wine!
5. Boy, the Methodists are all over the block. We have Edwards and we have have Gilmore. But the Methodists have always been all over the block.
6. Obama is UCC. "Unitarians Considering Christianity", I've heard it said.
7. Tancredo is a Presbyterian. I'm so embarrassed.
8. Fred? Fred?
9. Romney. The article says all of the candidates are Christians. The AP, then, has decided the question of whether Mormons are Christians. I'm glad we settled that. If Romney's candidacy does nothing else, he has scored a victory for the Mormons. They are finally seen as one of us. At least by the AP.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
What Happens to Tall Poppies
This past week NPR interviewed a Kiwi comedian/pop star, Jemaine Clement. (Apparently this genleman and his group are about to burst upon the US cultural scene under the auspices of HBO.) The interviewer ask Mr. Clement to describe what he saw as the main difference between the culture in New Zealand and that in the US.
He said, "Tall poppies get cut", which puzzled the interviewer. Clement explained that "tall poppies get cut" is a saying in New Zealand that refers to the strong cultural value there of keeping one's affairs below the radar. He said that in the US, on the other hand, people seemed to value standing out from the crowd. People down under find that risky.
I think that was once the value in the US as well, and still is in many parts of the country.
I remember when I was a young partner at Smathers & Thompson attending a partners meeting when this value was discussed. During this period of time the legal practice generally was in transition. The practice, the experts insisted, had to move from being a profession to a business, and our firm was struggling with that change. Part of being a business was marketing, apparently, and so we discussed retaining a marketing firm to get our name in the paper and so forth.
Hervey Yancey, an elder statesman in the firm and a fine trial lawyer, blasted this idea. We did not want to get our names in the paper. "Fools names and fools faces", he recited, "oft appear in public places," a saying that mother was fond of using until I got my picture in the paper once. (The saying remained true. In fact it was then and there for my mother demonstrated. But my mother quit using the saying.)
I think flying below the radar is a good thing. When I was litigating full time, I had a number of cases and in each case there was another lawyer, of course, the opposing counsel, most likely smarter and more experienced than I. The lawyers with whom I contended also juggled a great number of cases. I wanted to remain a very short poppy as the lawyer on the other side surveyed the field in which he worked. I did that by always being courteous and not being contentious on issues that really didn't make any difference. When that lawyer came into the office on Saturday, in the peace and quiet of the morning, to think about the week just past and to plan the week to come, to plan the next steps of his various battles, I really didn't want him to think about me and my case. I was hoping that some other adversary of his had made himself quite prominent during the week before and that I would be unthought of, unseen, and safe.
I remember when I was in college and once visited my aunt and uncle in Spartanburg, SC, home of Deering Milliken, a large and well-known multinational textile firm. My uncle was on the faculty at Wofford College, and one day we drove together from the college back to his house through a well kept residential neighborhood with nice houses. It was not a neighborhood that would strike you as being particularly a wealthy one, but the houses were of a generous size and well kept. As we drove by a particular house on a corner lot, my uncle said, "That's where Roger Milliken lives", the president and chairman of Deering Milliken. I was suprised at how modest it seemed, next to the image I had of this great businessman from this great business family. He did not live as such a tall poppy, and my respect for him increased greatly.
But some people in the US make a living off of being tall poppies, often wittingly but sometimes unwittingly. Not just movie stars, but businessmen, clergy, lawyers, politicians. Wittingly, Paris Hilton was a tall poppy. Perhaps unwittingly, Skooter Libby was a tall poppy.
He said, "Tall poppies get cut", which puzzled the interviewer. Clement explained that "tall poppies get cut" is a saying in New Zealand that refers to the strong cultural value there of keeping one's affairs below the radar. He said that in the US, on the other hand, people seemed to value standing out from the crowd. People down under find that risky.
I think that was once the value in the US as well, and still is in many parts of the country.
I remember when I was a young partner at Smathers & Thompson attending a partners meeting when this value was discussed. During this period of time the legal practice generally was in transition. The practice, the experts insisted, had to move from being a profession to a business, and our firm was struggling with that change. Part of being a business was marketing, apparently, and so we discussed retaining a marketing firm to get our name in the paper and so forth.
Hervey Yancey, an elder statesman in the firm and a fine trial lawyer, blasted this idea. We did not want to get our names in the paper. "Fools names and fools faces", he recited, "oft appear in public places," a saying that mother was fond of using until I got my picture in the paper once. (The saying remained true. In fact it was then and there for my mother demonstrated. But my mother quit using the saying.)
I think flying below the radar is a good thing. When I was litigating full time, I had a number of cases and in each case there was another lawyer, of course, the opposing counsel, most likely smarter and more experienced than I. The lawyers with whom I contended also juggled a great number of cases. I wanted to remain a very short poppy as the lawyer on the other side surveyed the field in which he worked. I did that by always being courteous and not being contentious on issues that really didn't make any difference. When that lawyer came into the office on Saturday, in the peace and quiet of the morning, to think about the week just past and to plan the week to come, to plan the next steps of his various battles, I really didn't want him to think about me and my case. I was hoping that some other adversary of his had made himself quite prominent during the week before and that I would be unthought of, unseen, and safe.
I remember when I was in college and once visited my aunt and uncle in Spartanburg, SC, home of Deering Milliken, a large and well-known multinational textile firm. My uncle was on the faculty at Wofford College, and one day we drove together from the college back to his house through a well kept residential neighborhood with nice houses. It was not a neighborhood that would strike you as being particularly a wealthy one, but the houses were of a generous size and well kept. As we drove by a particular house on a corner lot, my uncle said, "That's where Roger Milliken lives", the president and chairman of Deering Milliken. I was suprised at how modest it seemed, next to the image I had of this great businessman from this great business family. He did not live as such a tall poppy, and my respect for him increased greatly.
But some people in the US make a living off of being tall poppies, often wittingly but sometimes unwittingly. Not just movie stars, but businessmen, clergy, lawyers, politicians. Wittingly, Paris Hilton was a tall poppy. Perhaps unwittingly, Skooter Libby was a tall poppy.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Rhythms
Lately, I have found that my life is very full, so full that I can't possibly find time to do everything that needs doing, and yet when people ask me what's going on in my life, I find that I don't have much to say. I have been thinking about this and have wondered, "how can I have nothing to say? My life is so full!" Then, I realized that my life is very full but it looks very much the same every day and progress is slow and change very gradual. There are not many tasks that I can point to that are truly and finally done as most of them are tasks I will simply have to do again the next day or the day after that (e.g., laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, cooking, changing diapers, putting kids down for naps, feeding kids, burping my baby). These things all take time, and none of them are inspiring to talk about, but in the midst of them I am learning to recognize the rhythms of my children, their needs, their highs, their lows. I am learning when to discipline and when to laugh (and sometimes choosing to laugh is one of the hardest choices in my day...I tend to be more of a worrier than a laugher, and laughter is so necessary to both my sanity and my children's sense of hope and confidence).
I am learning to enjoy this slow and gradual process. I am learning to laugh when I would rather shout or maybe even cry. I am learning to give choices when I would rather just push something through and say "because I said so" (although sometimes it comes to that anyways). One of the greatest achievements in my recent life is beginning to discover my daughter's cues of tiredness before she reaches the point of sheer exhaustion. This was difficult to do with my son, and that was when he was the only person I was paying attention to. Now, I am paying attention to him and to her, and having enough presence of mind to read her signals has taken most of the attention that I have to give. But it is so exciting when I put her down and she drifts off without fighting it, when she can fade into drowsiness and sleep because I didn't wait until she was too tired. I feel like I have served her well and like I am getting to know her better as I begin to sense her rhythms.
My son is finally starting to be okay with me saying "I need to go feed your sister and put her down for a nap", and I cannot tell you what a relief it is when he does not pitch a fit every time I need to put her down. He has been having to learn new rhythms. Everything he thought he knew has been shaken up and put back down in a different space. This has been very trying for him at points, but he is beginning to be able to move with the new tempo. He is beginning to find himself again in a new way, and is learning to enjoy his sister. One of the great joys in my life right now is how he can make his sister laugh. She is only 4 and 1/2 months old, and while her father and I can make her smile, only her brother can really make her laugh. When he is silly for her, she will laugh from her gut and will shriek with glee. What a gift! What a pleasure. What a wonderful thing for him to discover that one of the spaces he now fits into is that of her friend.
As I move through my days, one looking much like the other, I am discovering what a privilege it is for me to get to watch and take part as my children begin to discover themselves and one another, as they learn how to move within their own rhythms and that of the other.
It's a full life, and one I love. So, that is what's going on in my life for those of you who have asked and found me silent or slow to respond. I wanted to share and let you know, but the rhythm of my life is slow and it took a while for me to figure out what to say about it.
Now Who Did This Remind Us Of?
Carol reports that as she was jogging this morning, on the bike path by the canal she saw a boy, about nine years old, standing on the bank, fishing pole in hand, tackle box by his feet, silently waiting for a bite. Carol wondered, "Just what is he using for bait? A kernal of corn? A tiny ball of bread?" Sigh.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Monday, June 04, 2007
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Is Something Up in Hollywood?
Ann Althouse comments on two "date flicks" where abortion is rejected as a solution to the problem.
Carol and I saw Spiderman 3 last night. Unlike Superman Returns, where patriotic references are pared (Truth, Justice, but no American Way), there is a quick scene with Spiderman swinging in front of a large American flag (although it would be easy to edit that one second shot out of international editions of the movie). The vengence-is-bad, forgiveness-is-good theme is very prominent and the deus-ex-machina solution to the evil black stuff takes place in the bell tower of a church. Moreover, even though this is the third movie, we don't see MJ and Peter in bed, it's simply a kiss that causes the main romantic complication. Finally, Peter's aunt gives a theory of marriage under which the husband is to put the wife first (as Christ loved the Church?).
What's going on?
Carol and I saw Spiderman 3 last night. Unlike Superman Returns, where patriotic references are pared (Truth, Justice, but no American Way), there is a quick scene with Spiderman swinging in front of a large American flag (although it would be easy to edit that one second shot out of international editions of the movie). The vengence-is-bad, forgiveness-is-good theme is very prominent and the deus-ex-machina solution to the evil black stuff takes place in the bell tower of a church. Moreover, even though this is the third movie, we don't see MJ and Peter in bed, it's simply a kiss that causes the main romantic complication. Finally, Peter's aunt gives a theory of marriage under which the husband is to put the wife first (as Christ loved the Church?).
What's going on?
Friday, June 01, 2007
Father's Day Gift Lists
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