At Home On Piety Hill

Poll: Fewer People Link Islam, Violence

By WILL LESTER
Associated Press Writer

July 26, 2005, 4:14 PM EDT

WASHINGTON — The percentage of Americans who believe Islam is more likely than other religions to inspire violence has declined in the past two years, according to a poll taken after the London bombings. Just over a third, 36 percent, now say the Islamic religion is more likely to inspire violence, while 44 percent said that in July 2003, according to the poll conducted by the Pew Research Center and the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life.

Pollsters are still mystified by an unexplainable plunge in the collective IQ of many Americans over the past two years. This trend is expected to continue, as long as the education cartel remains in the hands of ivory-tower academics, education lobbies and teacher’s unions. The good news is that, if the terrorists eventually win out, oversight of American educational institutions will no longer remain in the hands of ivory-tower academics, education lobbies and teacher’s unions!

In a previous post about Muslim terrorism, Brits Get A Wake-Up Call, I attributed London terrorist bombings to British Muslim’s disgust with western culture and a faithful reading of the Qur’an. I may have to take that back after reading this story in Ireland On-Line:

Would-be bomber was on benefits
26/07/2005 - 11:38:06
One of the would-be suicide bombers who tried to blow up a London Tube train last Thursday had been given thousands of pounds in British taxpayers’ money. Yasin Hassan Omar, 24, was given £75 (€108.70) a week in housing benefit to pay for the one-bedroom flat where he has been the registered tenant since February 1999. His housing benefit stopped in May.

It looks as if this fellow may have been evicted from “the projects” by “the man.” Coddled by years of liberal handouts, he reacted like his counterparts across the pond and took his frustrations out by trying to blow up the neighborhood.

This raises another question: How do we deal with this new kind of terrorist: the benefits bomber? Rather than bunking him with his more competent brethren down at Gitmo, where he would likely learn more destructive behaviors, how about years of group therapy around readings from Who Moved My Cheese? An Amazing Way to Deal with Change in Your Work and in Your Life. That’ll surely stop the violence.

I’m still thinking about Art and there are so many memories. I really need to write them down and sort them into some order. Two things are on my mind today. First, a humorous anecdote, which may only be funny to those who could relate to This Is Spinal Tap, the movie.

Art was a self-trained electronic technician (perhaps an engineer, as well) and he worked wherever he found something new and interesting going on — Hewlett-Packard, the Stanford Observatory and Foggy Mountain Music, for example. He grew up fascinated with broadcasting and one of his first jobs was installing and troubleshooting public address systems during the 1940s. When I met Art, he was working at Foggy in Grass Valley repairing electronic instruments and amplifiers. His passion was restoring old vacuum tube scientific measurement instruments, with Bakelite finish, Vernier knobs and analog meters.

I remember discussing sound equipment with him one day, because of my obsession with home audio, rock’n'roll music, my “The Paul” guitar and my Pignose Amp. I’ll never forget this conversation, because it was the only nut Art could not crack, the only concept he couldn’t “get his head around,” the one single, solitary time I remember Art throwing up his hands and abandoning any hope of understanding. We were talking about his work at Foggy, fixing guitar amplifiers for kids in local rock bands. With a tinge of exasperation in his otherwise normal clinical, logical tone Art complained:

Bo, I don’t understand it. These electric guitar players want their amplifiers to distort!

Art had spent a good part of his life working to eliminate any harmonic distortion in sound equipment and now there was a whole generation of musicians using effects to put distortion into the sound. Art was mortified!

The second memory is much more serious. When I met Art in 1980, we were both coming from years of exposure to some very odd ideas about the nature of God. Art was about six months ahead of me, thanks to a knock on his door from representatives of the Watchtower Society. They issued him a challenge, which led Art to study the Bible in order to argue with them, during his free time. He was an agnostic at the time and thought that he would enlighten them with his vast knowledge (and criticisms) of the Bible. Well, they gave him a real run for his money and he ended up thoroughly researching all of their assertions, which he found to be based upon itellectual dishonesty and historical distortions. He later credited those Jehovah’s Witnesses with leading him to faith in Jesus Christ, because in the process of checking their sources and the Bible, he found reasons to believe the gospel.

I was the beneficiary of much of Art’s research, as he shared his resources and insights into the development of Christian thought on the nature of God and Christ. We examined Sabellianism, Monophysitism, Adoptionism, Nestorianism, Apollinarianism, Arianism and Socianism. We spent hours studying the Bible and tons of church history materials in his barn or the humble cottage behind his daycare center.

I may have trouble keeping all those aberrant views of the nature of God straight nowadays, but I learned so much from Art and those were some of the most enjoyable times in my life… yes, in my entire life. He was a great guy, who came to faith in a great God and I was blessed to be along for much of his journey.

Brits Get A Wake-Up Call
Found A Site I Like

Brits Get A Wake-Up Call
Readers of the Telegraph in the UK got more than a Full English Breakfast with their July 23 edition. Along with a generous portion of beans, rashers of bacon, black pudding and tomatoes, they got a heapin’ helpin’ of comparative religion as British Muslims stopped practicing taqiyah (religious dissimulation) just long enough to let pollsters know what they really think about jihad, the struggle against unbelief and the practical consequences for Britons who reject Islam:

YouGov sought to gauge the character of the Muslim community’s response to the events of July 7. As the figures in the chart show, 88 per cent of British Muslims clearly have no intention of trying to justify the bus and Tube murders. However, six per cent insist that the bombings were, on the contrary, fully justified. Six per cent may seem a small proportion but in absolute numbers it amounts to about 100,000 individuals who, if not prepared to carry out terrorist acts, are ready to support those who do.

However, nearly a third of British Muslims, 32 per cent, are far more censorious, believing that “Western society is decadent and immoral and that Muslims should seek to bring it to an end”. Among those who hold this view, almost all go on to say that Muslims should only seek to bring about change by non-violent means but one per cent, about 16,000 individuals, declare themselves willing, possibly even eager, to embrace violence.

This may come as a surprise to many westerners, who have been lulled to sleep in the cradle of political correctness and multicultural relativism, but a simple trip to the nearest Qur’an Sura 47 (as well as others) makes it pretty plain:

Therefore, when ye meet the Unbelievers (in fight), smite at their necks; At length, when ye have thoroughly subdued them, bind a bond firmly (on them): thereafter (is the time for) either generosity or ransom: Until the war lays down its burdens. Thus (are ye commanded): but if it had been Allah’s Will, He could certainly have exacted retribution from them (Himself); but (He lets you fight) in order to test you, some with others. But those who are slain in the Way of Allah, - He will never let their deeds be lost.

Not to worry, though. Stiff upper lip and all that!

Found A Site I Like
Pyromaniac is the site of Phillip Johnson, but not that Phillip Johnson. This is the other Phillip Johnson, who serves as an elder at Grace Community Church and is a big fan of Charles Spurgeon. I really like the look of his blog — combining humor, theology and commentary on things going on, in and around the world. I hope you like it and I’ll add it to the bounteous column on the left.

From The Telegraph Online:
Two of John Wayne’s best films from the 1950s – “The High and the Mighty” and “Island in the Sky” – have been missing in action for decades… the films, directed by William Wellman (“Wings,” “A Star Is Born”) and produced through the Duke’s own company, had fallen into disrepair… Already, “High and the Mighty” ranks No. 4 on Amazon.com’s presale orders list… Originally released in 1954, “The High and the Mighty” was one of the top-grossing films of the year and was nominated for six Oscars, including best director for Wellman and supporting actress nods for Jan Sterling and Claire Trevor; it won for Dimitri Tiomkin’s memorable score. The granddaddy of disaster films, it stars the Duke as an airplane pilot who guides a crippled airliner to safety on a flight from Hawaii to San Francisco. John Wayne wasn’t originally scheduled to be in the picture, said the director’s son, William Wellman Jr. The role of Dan Roman was to go to Spencer Tracy, but “at the last minute he decided not to do it.” Then, “they had trouble casting the two leading women,” Wellman added. “Every major star turned them down – Joan Crawford, Bette Davis and Loretta Young. So they ended up with Claire Trevor and Jan Sterling, and they both got two Academy Award nominations.”

This is certainly good news, because I have never seen these films and I’m always up for a good John Wayne flick. Yes, I said a good one. The Duke has made his share of stinkers over the years, as many fine actors have. However, growing up in the 60’s, it was often in vogue to talk about Wayne as bad actor or limited in his range or ability. This criticism has become cliche´over the years and when I hear it parroted nowadays, I simply chalk it up to ignorance or socio-politiacal elitism. The fact of the matter is, John Wayne was a talented actor and he starred in some exceptional films. Some pretty notable people from the film arts were impressed with his acting abilities:

“I’ve always thought [Wayne is] underrated as an actor,” James Stewart once said. “I think The Searchers is one of the most marvelous performances of all time.”

Stewart’s sentiment has been echoed by those on the other side of the camera, as well:

Film critic and filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard once said of The Searchers: “How can I hate John Wayne upholding [Barry] Goldwater and yet love him tenderly when abruptly he takes Natalie Wood into his arms in the last reel of The Searchers?” This sentiment was also voiced by film students in the late sixties and seventies who began to revise their opinions of John Wayne after seeing him in John Ford’s most mythic film, one that was largely misunderstood when it was first released in 1956 and features what is possibly Wayne’s finest performance… Directors and screenwriters as varied in background and style as Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, John Milius, Paul Schrader, Wim Wenders, Jean-Luc Goddard, and George Lucas have all been influenced and paid some form of homage to The Searchers in their work. Scorsese, perhaps the greatest filmmaker of his generation, exclaimed, “The dialogue is like poetry! And the changes of expression are so subtle, so magnificent! I see it once or twice a year”… The Searchers represents the apex of the Western genre and stands as John Ford’s most emotionally complex and sophisticated film (It was also his 115th feature film!). But it is not simply a summation of the Western themes that Ford had previously explored in his films. The Searchers is one of the first Westerns to deal in a serious and unpretentious way with racism and sexuality. As Joseph McBride wrote in his monumental Ford biography, Searching For John Ford, the director’s decision to tackle such a complicated and ambiguous film dealing with race and sex during the 1950s “was a shrewd career move, showing a willingness to make a more ‘modern’-seeming Western for an audience that wanted greater psychological realism from the genre…”Not only does [Ethan] Edwards perform the only scalping shown in the film, but Ford presents the bloody aftermath of a massacre of Indian women and children carried out by the same clean-cut cavalrymen he depicted so lovingly in films like Fort Apache.” For most viewers, however, it is John Wayne’s performance in The Searchers that is a revelation.

Oh, and one last bit of trivia from The Searchers:

John Wayne’s catchphrase in the film, “That’ll Be The Day”, inspired Buddy Holly to write his hit song of the same name.

Emma’s Gone
Art Went To Be With The Lord
Busy Around The House

Emma’s Gone
Denise and Emma left for North Carolina and I was able to control my emotions pretty well. My eyes are moist in the photo, but no tears – that would come later, just before bed that night. It was late, I was in the hall and realized that I would no longer hear “Hi, dad!” – slam!!! @ 130 decibels. Yes, it was often annoying, night after night over the years, but now it seems rather endearing. So, before I went to sleep I looked through Emma’s baby book and scrapbook – I’ll miss that quirky little girl. I also realized that 28 years of family life under the same roof has finally come to an end – a relationship enjoyed for 56% of my entire life! It’s sort of like starting a new career. I’m sure it will take a lot of adjustment and I’ll be journaling my feelings.

Art Went To Be With The Lord
My friend Dale called to let me know that Art had finally succumbed to pancreatic cancer and the memorial was Sunday. Art was diagnosed about a year ago and began receiving hospice care but in typical fashion, Art wore them out and stubbornly continued on with a ton of energy and his usual “can-do” spirit. They told him to call them when he was ready. Denise saw him at the AAA just over two weeks ago and he was chipper as ever!

I was disappointed that I wasn’t able to share how much Art meant to me at the memorial service, but it had to be cut short because of heat and cramped conditions – he had a lot of family and friends. I’m sure I’ll write more about him later, but I need to say that Art exerted more influence on my life than few others. He had many friends and I don’t know how I rated with him, but I can say with certainty that he was my best “guy” friend during the early 80’s and I spent as much time with him as possible. I would even help him with chores and building things, just to make more time to “sit at his feet.”

Most people would think we had little in common, particularly age – he was 27 years older than me. We did not like the same kinds of music or film, we didn’t go for the same foods, we shared few interests… We did, however, come from deceptive cults to faith in the Jesus of the Bible and experienced together a whole new world of grace and knowledge at the same time.

Art was a voracious reader and a valuable resource to a young, uneducated man like myself. I can say that his nose for excellent reference materials was keen and he never, ever steered me wrong. And, though I may not have agreed with his analysis or conception of certain doctrines or ideas, his references and citations were impeccable. I don’t ever remember getting in a substantive disagreement with Art and he was a great listener. When I think of Art, I picture him standing, looking at the ground, with his hands clasped behind his back (always a wool cap on), listening intently and then responding now and again, by looking up and saying, “aah… yes.” Then, when I was finished he would begin teaching me and I was content to sit and listen to Art for literally hours. Often, he would whip out his four-colored ballpoint pen to diagram concepts about the nature of God and man or the Adventist doctrine of the investigative judgment, Greek verb tenses or problems in the Mormon Plan of Salvation. I’m sure his family wondered about me, because they were clearly non-plussed by Art’s interest in such things.

I will never, ever forget Art and neither will Denise or our children. He was an original… a recognized genius and self-taught renaissance man. It was as if there was not a single subject Art didn’t know even a little something about. But the coolest thing about Art was, when he prayed, he spoke to the Lord like a little boy.

Hope I see you soon, Art. We’ll chat.

Busy Around The House
Blogging took a back seat to household chores this week, which I enjoyed very much. Besides keeping the house tidy while Denise was away, I did a few loads of laundry, cooked enough spaghetti sauce for about eight meals, had folks over for supper a few times and coordinated the renovation of the bathroom.

Of course, I love doing the dishes and I changed the oil in the truck, hung the closet doors in Emma’s room (now the guestroom) and fixed a variety of little things around our modest abode. My library was reorganized and I decorated a bit in the office and living room. Besides all that, I was able to entertain a few guests.

I need to do this more often… it’s therapeutic.

Today marks 29 years of marital bliss for Denise and I. This is a fitting weekend for the celebration. We will be spending it with Camille, Emma and our wonderful friends, doing the kinds of things we love to do — it’s been very busy and will be, right up until our heads hit the pillow tonight.

I had to work yesterday and, as I was driving home down the Old Downieville Highway, with my sunroof open and Eric Whitacre playing, I was reflecting upon how blessed I am and the fact that all sorts of wonderful things have come my way in unexpected or unusual ways.

For example, I went to the same high school with Denise for three years and never met her. I do, however, remember checking her out, because she dressed a bit differently than the other girls. She was in the same general style ballpark, if you will, but something slightly different or hip. She wore Dr. Scholl’s clog/sandals and definitely the first person I knew who wore Birkenstocks, before they became the rage. One of our first outings was driving all the way to a store in Laguna Canyon to track down a pair.

We were introduced by our mutual friend, Amy, while I was at the high school track, putting the shot. I was in track, simply so I could stay in 6th period gym and take a shower at the end of the day and not somewhere in between whatever semi-academic classes I was sleeping through. Denise and Amy just happened to be walking home while I was loitering, so it was a “chance” meeting. We hit it off immediately.

Denise and I were wed in 1976, the year of our country’s bicentennial. We got off to a rocky start by getting hitched in the Los Angeles Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Mormons. The ceremony was “secret, not sacred” and contained numerous blood-oaths with the appropriate names, signs and tokens. We got new names and I was given Denise’s, so I can call her forth on the morning of the first resurrection… that is, if she proves to be a decent spouse and a good cook. None of our family could be there and we have no wedding photos. I call it our Las Vegas Temple Wedding, because we invited all our Mormon friends, but a very popular old-timer in our ward had died and was buried that day, so only one couple came to our wedding. When it was time to tie the knot in the sealing room, they needed two more witnesses and had to run all over the temple to find two more initiates, while we waited at the altar. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Denise and I have led a somewhat quirky, strange life.

In spite of our first stumblings and bumblings, we did something right and immediately conceived a son. Here’s a photo of Denise at the Mission San Juan Capistrano just days before Sam’s birth. He was born on Labor Day and it was the hottest day of the year. Sam was followed a couple years later by Camille, who was born on the busiest day of the year at Sierra Nevada Memorial Hospital. Dr. Michelin and the maternity nurses had been there all day and ordered out for pizza. I still remember Denise with Camille on her stomach, while we each had a piece of Frank’s pizza. Emma was typically stubborn and would not conceive for years, in spite of valiant, consistent, enthusiastic effort on our part. Finally, in 1986, she popped out (literally) into the world, mohawk and all. That day was memorable, because we were sitting on the brow of the hill in the parking lot, waiting for Denise’s labor to get a bit harder. It was a beautiful day and the Lord gave us a sign in the heavens that this would be a special child… I saw my first SR71 banking hard as it approached Beale Air Force Base to land and it looked like a big, black UFO.

I won’t bore you with the details of the following 28 years — that’s what this blog is for.

Denise found a nice bedroom set for about $75. I really like it, but wondered aloud, “should we just change our names to Ward and June?” I’ve caught Denise admiring it, when she didn’t know I was looking.

I really like these nightstands. They hold lots of books and will soon support two “funky pink and gold atomic retro lamps.” At least that’s the eBay description. The combo headboard/footlocker is handy for kleenex, more books and, perhaps, some knick-knacks or, Lord willin’, photographs of the grandchildren (hint). I think we’ll be on the hunt for an appropriate bed spread and a funky, gold metal kleenex cozy, like the one my elderly aunt and uncle down at the trailer park used to have.

Not every purchase can scratch the design itch. Our trusty refrigerator finally bit the dust. It’s probably better that way, since it had a “bladder infection.” The water started tasting funky, so I flushed it with chlorine bleach and changed the filter. No improvement. We bought the original from an appliance repair shop up by the airport, which always had sweet deals and would recycle your old appliances. Well, they are no longer there, so we had to buy a new one. Fortunately, Denise found a great deal on this “plain jane” refer, which suits our utilitarian philosophy in the kitchen.

We still deck the refrigerator with special photos, magnets and kids art, although the compositions are a bit more sophisticated nowadays. I spy Levi and Suzanne — how about you?

My friends, Dan and Sadie, are committed Christians who don’t shy away from difficult tasks, including working with the youth group. They seem perfectly suited to the task, because they are in their thirties, they are hip and more importantly, they love Jesus and the Bible. Mark and Sue are their mentors or whatever term is fashionable this week for mature, middle-aged “youth workers” (there’s a whole youth industry in the church and the jargon, along with the t-shirts and graphics, change monthly to remain relevant… or, so the “experts” think).

You know, I still find it hard to believe that so many churches will treat the teens as an afterthought or have some good looking, 22-year-old guy, straight out of college or seminary or a Bible Bootcamp/Recovery Home in charge of a flock of adolescents. My friend Alex once counseled me (and, he has never been wrong… really), that the youth group is the hardest ministry in a local assembly and it will always be the main focus of controversy. Sadly, it is most often the parents that cause the heartache. The kids? They have their moments, but they usually seem to rebound and move on, while the parents stay mired in the memory of hurt feelings and controversies which have long since passed.

That brings me to this article. I found it disturbing, but I must admit it didn’t surprise me.

The Australian: Pastor, teachers beat teen for not going to church [July 08, 2005]: “Pastor, teachers beat teen for not going to church
David King
July 08, 2005

A pastor and two Bible studies teachers bashed a 19-year-old Korean woman because they thought she had been disrespectful to her parents and had stopped attending church.

Chi Yeong Yun, a junior pastor at the Open Door Presbyterian Church in Chatswood, and Bible study teachers James Kang and Tom Chae-Young Lee pleaded guilty yesterday to assaulting Angela Kim at a park at Sydney’s Bobbin Head in July last year.

Somehow, Angela’s behavior sounds fairly common for young people her age:

The NSW District Court heard the men believed the young woman had stopped going to church, had been disrespectful to her elders and had been spending too much time on her web page… “She had no idea of respect, she was just hanging around with her friends,” Lee said.

Either the folks at the Open Door Presbyterian Church are a bit more serious in their faith than I am or, perhaps, they are new to youth work and need to learn “the old paths” of prayer and personal, gentle pastoral care, which comes from years of experience with God’s flock.

As some of you know, Sam asked for prayer before he took off for London, which was the scene of a series of fatal bombings yesterday. I wanted to let you know that God answered those prayers:

Hello Everyone,

I’ve got a lot of calling and switching of plans to do… Just wanted to let everyone know that I’m safe and actually very fortunate. I don’t think I’ll be continuing my trip as it was planned. Anyhow, I’ve got loads to do……. I’ll keep you posted.

Love,
Sam

Thanks again for remembering him daily, when you go before the Lord. We’ll keep you posted.

I am so grateful to live in a community, where we enjoy state of the art medicine. I turned 50 this year and went in for my very first colonoscopy. I’m feeling fine, but it’s a good idea for men my age to be examined for colorectal cancer or other disease. Here we are in the year 2005 and I find it hard to believe that most people undergoing this test will still be subjected to the barbaric colonscope, a long flexible tubular instrument inserted into the rectum and poked around the colon, while the doctor watches on a remote video device.

Our doctor, on the other hand, has been trained in the latest hands-on technologies and this has been a boon for patients, who suffer less discomfort during the procedure and receive a much more thorough exam. This is how it works. The doctor and one or two assistants board a submarine- like probe (pictured below), which is miniaturized and inserted painlessly and effortlessly into the rectum. Once inside, the nuclear powered colorectal vehicle begins its ascent up into the colon for the exam.

.

I arrived at the doctor’s office a bit late and found the gastrologist and one of the nurses waiting for me in the examination room. They were already suited up and ready for the procedure.

Within minutes, the doctor and his crew were seated in the probe and awaiting the miniaturization process. This takes about ten minutes and the actual insertion just takes a little push from a technician in the room.

Once inside the colon, the doctor and nurse(s) leave the probe with their instruments to explore the organ for polyps, perforations, evidence of infection or other anomalies. Although I followed my prep routine to the letter, it seems there was still a bit of the Vietnamese bun vermicelli I had for lunch Tuesday attached to the colon wall. So, it was a bit more work than they are used to, hacking their way through some very tough rice noodles.

The procedure went well and it looked as if I have a healthy colon, but they did find a few polyps, which they had to cauterize after clipping them for biopsy:

I sure hope they’re benign.

All in all, the procedure was painless on my part. The doctor and crew were able to exit just as easily as they had entered and after a bit of cleanup, were returned to their normal size to give me the results.

You know, at my age I sometimes feel as if I’ve seen it all. Something that was once science fiction is now a commonplace medical procedure.

One more day until the opening at the Alison Jaques Gallery and there are now ten drawings and paintings up on the site. Sam worked right up to the last minute, so I believe there will be more at the show. We’ll keep you updated as we hear more from the artist.

Thanks for your thoughts and prayers. Sam is having the time of his life.

This just in:

Just wanted to tell everyone I’m fine. Completely enjoying London. It’s actualy late here, but I’m thinking you are all at work right now. The show isn’t up yet, and already it’s been going pretty well. I’ve sold most of the work and Alison seems to feel real good about it.

I don’t care what people say about the food, but I think it’s amazing. Had fish n’ chips tonight. Really fantastic. I’m surprised that people are not falling over from heart attacks left and right.

Anyhow, I’m fine. Busy. I’ll be taking plenty of pictures tomorrow.

Love,

Sam

It’s finally arrived: Bush will nominate his first Justice to the Supreme Court. I’m hoping he balances out the extremists like Justice Ginsberg with someone more mainstream like Antonin Scalia. You know, someone with Main Street values and a modicum of respect for the Constitution.

I let the movers and shakers in my party know that the people I talk to are fed up with their shenanigans:

I don’t know what sort of feedback you get, but in my world we Democrats are seen as a bunch of spoiled children, engaged in a non-stop tantrum since November 2000. We seem to pick all the wrong battles and lose election after election.

Concerning the upcoming battle over the nomination to replace Justice Sandra Day O’Connor, I am afraid if our Senators “Bork” the nominee, a number of our best people may get “Daschled” in the election of 2006.

You may want make your views known to the Members of the Senate Committee on the Judiciary. I understand that a letter carries more weight than a phone call and an eMail message or online petition is ignored.

My friend, Ian, is a power blogger. He can juggle three at once, while tending to a squad of Marines. Big salute!

• What A World
• Ian’s Exodus
• Well, In My Opinion…

P.S. Isn’t Ian a great name? If Emma had been a boy, she would have been Ian.

First things first: If you look over in the left column, you’ll see that I’ve been at work adding some mini-reviews of books and music I like. Perhaps you will like them, too.

Yes, it’s Independence Day here in the US, but I’m not really a very independent person… I’m writing a blog and reading others’, for cryin’ out loud. I think that demonstrates that I am a very interdependent person.

With that said, I would like to declare my independence today from slavery to my passions and pardon from the just condemnation I have merited by my dreadful conduct:

So those who are believers in Christ Jesus can no longer be condemned. The standards of the Spirit, who gives life through Christ Jesus, have set you free from the standards of sin and death. It is impossible to do what God’s standards demand because of the weakness our human nature has. But God sent his Son to have a human nature as sinners have and to pay for sin. That way God condemned sin in our corrupt nature. Therefore, we, who do not live by our corrupt nature but by our spiritual nature, are able to meet God’s standards. Romans 8:1 - 4 (GWORD)

This post should be read to Green Day’s Boulevard of Broken Dreams.

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
And I’m the only one and I walk alone

Every morning, Denise and I wake up shortly after 5AM to go out for our daily walk/run. We’ve done this probably since we lived in Maine, ten years ago. However, there’s something about me… about my little pea brain, that I’ve known since I began running way back around 1982. I like to exercise alone. When I’m with someone else, no matter the physical activity, I always feel like I have to catch up with or wait for them. I think it’s the downside to my “hospitality gene.” I am driven to accomodate people. “Come on in…” “Would you like something to drink?” I feel like I have to keep the conversation going.

So, when I go out walking or running, I’m constantly keeping tabs on my partner(s) and that takes a lot of energy. I’d probably be an ideal cross country or relay runner. However, when I run by myself, I seem to do a lot more running and a lot less walking. Plus, it’s relaxing because I’m not trying to make my partner(s) happy.

This leads me to another subject: my legs. Those of you, who know the condition of my legs probably wonder why I keep running. Well, actually it seems that a certain amount of walking or running keeps the skin on my reconstructed leg in pretty good shape and the pumping prevents edema in my “good” one. Here’s what my leg looks like today:

This is fairly good condition, but the scarring on my thigh gets red and warm to the touch this time of year. I have wondered why that is over the past five years and have tried a number of possible fixes. I’ve concluded that my leg overheats this time of year with the 10 - 20º spike upward. The leg can probably moderate heat when it is cool outside, but is unable to catch up when it’s warm out, because there’s no soft tissue, sweat glands or hair to dissipate the heat. So, I have to limit my exercise — not too much, but not too little, either.

I was having problems at work, because I stand so long throughout the day. The past six months or so, I’ve been wearing Jobst pressure stockings from the knee down. They keep the swelling down, which keeps the grafted skin (and donor sites) soft, hydrated and attached to my leg! They are definitely hot and get my thigh overheating sooner than normal, but I hit the air conditioner right away and all is well. Pretty amazing, this body of mine! I praise God for His mercies every day.

It’s Time for a Blog Break
¿Que Paso Blondie?
Awareness Never Fed A Starving Child
Emma Spreads Her Wings

It’s Time for a Blog Break
Okay, so I’ve just about finished Mounce’s commentary on Revelation, got my notes ready for Tuesday and took a trip to Remnant Books to round out my studies: John Walvoord’s commentary from the dispensational perspective, James Ramsey’s postmillennial commentary from The Geneva Series and Three Views on the Millennium and Beyond, edited by Darrell Bock.

I also answered a bunch of eMail… Denise and I repaired our window… I got a haircut at the Gentlemen’s Quarters in Grass Valley.

I think the photo above captures the simple joy of blogging… it’s nearly bed time, the heavy lifting has been done, the Powerbook is behaving properly and a large home brewed decaf latte´awaits me.

¿Que Paso Blondie?
I’m listening to Beck’s Guero and it’s taking me back to my roots: a surfer growing up in barrio South Whittier. The title tune captures the sounds and vibe of Brooklyn Avenue in East Los Angeles, then effortlessly transitions into Girl, an electronica surf tune with Beach Boy vocals and a bottleneck guitar solo, which would certainly measure up to Brian Wilson’s discriminating standards. Camille’s favorite is the funky Heck Yes and it is definitely the most danceable tune. Hey, ese! I’m stoked!

Awareness Never Fed A Starving Child
“I don’t think the awareness thing is working,” said Sue Kim, a 22-year-old student, in Philadelphia. “There’s going to be a lot of drunk people and what are they going to remember?”

Truer words were never spoken, yet expect to hear a lot of caterwauling and calls for the Group of Eight to forgive third world debt. If you want to know what to do about Africa, I’m afraid you may have to take a trip and see how the folks there do things. The Live 8 is a nice sentiment, but I think Sue Kim nailed it.

Emma Spreads Her Wings

Well, in about a week, Emma will take off for North Carolina. She will be going there to establish residency at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill, along with her miniature roommate, who shall remain anonymous. Here’s a photo of her diminutive pal:

They are a real pair. I say her roommate is miniature, because Emma is the smallest of our children by at least a half a foot and her roommate is a tad tinier. They remind me of a couple of elderly ladies and I told them that if they could just get some nylons to bunch up down at their ankles, they would look like fugitives from the convalescent home. They like the same “little ol’ lady” activities and seem to compliment each other quite well. They thought my observation was accurate, so they call themselves “the golden girls.”

It’s been kinda fun getting ready to send them off… we had supper to get to know “the in-laws.” Seriously, that’s what it was like and we really hit it off with them (I’ll keep them anonymous, as well). Denise will meet them all back in NC, where they will help the girls get settled in.

This week at my Post Office, my barn swallow babies were doing their Al Jolson routine… when mom and dad fly in to feed them, they all look up and open their mouths and it looks like a little Minstrel Show, with their little white beaks and dark heads. I call them my little “Al Jolsons.”

Well, Thursday the two older ones flew off and when I came in Friday morning, the last one was in the nest moving around nervously as mom stayed perched on the floodlight watching her. She would come up to the edge and flutter her little wings, lose her balance a little bit and then turn back around. This went on all day… I would check every half hour or so. Then, finally, she flew. She would land on the ground or the lower bushes and seemed a little uncertain about going higher. With each circle away from the nest, she went higher and higher, eventually landing on the telephone line or the tree across the street. But, she would always come back near the empty nest. I say “near,” because she would fly right up to it, then turn back away and land on something close by and look at the nest. It’s as if she wanted to return home, but knew it was time to go and be a grownup barn swallow.

I went out to watch her a number of times and talk to her (yes, I do talk to animals, even though they don’t understand a darn thing I’m saying). Then it struck me: This is a metaphor for Emma’s stage of life and our empty nest. The rest of the afternoon, I called the little barn swallow “Emma.” Later that day, she was on the wire outside with another swallow, chattering away just like our Emma does. Then, they would fly off in their little circular path and swoop down to puddles, drawn intuitively to the mud they will need to make their own nests. At the rate that little swallow is developing, I think she’ll figure out how to make a nest any day now: just like Emma and her miniature roommate will in North Carolina.