Fools That Dream

Three Quotes

2009-07-19T00:37:00.002-05:00

Ran across the three of these this week:

"If I knew for certain that a man was coming to my house with the conscious design of doing me good, I should run for my life." - Thoreau

"How long can you hate yourself for the weakness you can feel?" - Bob Dylan

"FDR [also] surrounded himself with highly intelligent people; that is no guarantee of anything except brilliant rationalizations of failure." - Thomas Sowell

Estate Sale

2009-07-19T00:15:00.003-05:00

I woke up yesterday to cars lined up and down the block. I finally saw the sign on the corner last night that said "Estate Sale - Fri & Sat." They were out in full force again today. I was doing yard work thinking about how sad it was that I didn't even know the person who died when I noticed the second or third pickup truck in a row driving past loaded down with furniture and at that moment I felt the full reality and weight of the saying, "you can't take it with you.." You live and you die and strangers come in and haul off your stuff, ecstatic about the great deals they got. How bout them apples?

"Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the imperfect dissapears...And now these three remain; faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." - Paul the Apostle

A Brief Musical Interlude

2009-06-19T14:01:00.004-05:00

Patty Griffin @ Gruene Hall
The Ballerina and I went to see the Queen of the Known Musical Universe back in late April at legendary Gruene Hall. It was a great Father/Daughter date. We saw the show from several different angles and at one point even wandered outside where the Ballerina danced on a picnic table under the colored lights strung across the courtyard. Magic.

Brandi Carlile @ Gruene Hall
One month later I was back at Gruene Hall to see Brandi Carlile and The Twins strut their stuff. I'm not a huge concert-goer, nor do I stray too far off my personal beaten path (in the past 17 years, I've seen 6 shows - U2 and Patty Griffin three times each) so I felt just a little dangerous. Two shows in one month. Oh my! The video below was shot the same week as the Gruene Hall show but it is from Birmingham. This song was the highlight. The twins (the one on the left looked exactly like my friend Scott Carow) unplugged their guitars and she stepped out in front of the microphones, so the whole thing was acoustic. At the show I was at you could have heard a pin drop, everybody was leaned forward and straining to soak it all in, and when the song was over the place just exploded. It was interesting to watch my two favorite female singers back to back like that. Patty Griffin makes you want to lie back in a gondola on a darkened waterway in Venice and look up at the stars as God's grace falls upon you. Brandi Carlile made me want to smash beer bottles and dance a jig on the picnic tables.

Steve Earle @ Austin City Limits, 1986
As long as I am posting music videos, I've got to throw this one in here too. I have watched all 3 of these videos so many times, my kids probably know the words to all these songs. Steve Earle is amazing, this is not even close to his greatest song, but it is a riveting performance. I love the bass player in the background. Probably one of the greatest sad songs of all time and my favorite from Steve Earle is "Goodbye" If you've got 99 cents burning a hole in your pocket - you can't go wrong with that one on iTunes.

Amusing Ourselves to Death

2009-06-14T20:00:00.001-05:00

I ran across a great cartoon illustrating the foreward of the Neil Postman book "Amusing Ourselves to Death". You can see it here.

The Nepali Response

2009-05-10T20:54:00.004-05:00

Sorry that it's been a while. May was a busy month at work. I've got a few that I'm hoping to post here in June. First off comes this long overdue post. After I wrote about Indian Call Centers, my brother who lives in Nepal sent me a long e-mail response. Jen and I enjoyed it so much that I asked him if I could post it here. Below are two photos taken from his balcony. Enjoy...and thanks Josh for entertaining us.

I step through the door to the balcony of my flat, a cool breeze carries the scent of imminent rain and hits my face. I can’t help but smile. My belly is full from dinner just 40 minutes earlier and my kids, by some miracle, play soccer quite nicely together within my view, making for the perfect moment to wind down. Relax. I gingerly dodge across the terrace and manage to block an attempted goal into the guest room door before climbing the black iron spiral staircase to the rooftop. As I ascend, the kids’ laughter fades and my gaze shifts to the city, my city, sprawled out before me. The setting sun is now faintly lighting the bustling streets below which results in one last rush of errands before darkness takes over and the electricity is shut off for the day. The man who sells potatoes and garlic from his bicycle yells out trying to make some final sales as he pushes his bike home. I watch the exchange as a young girl from a house across the street races out and buys a half kilo or so of potatoes. He pulls out his handheld scale and rummages through his inventory knowing the exact size and number of potatoes needed to make the scale balance. She pays him what must be 50 or so rupees and scurries back to her house calling out to her mother who is waiting by the gate and watching the whole transaction. As the potato man walks out of sight, I can only imagine he is off to the butcher shop to surprise his family with a little bit of meat that he can now purchase with the money from his last sale of the day. I look to my left to the patch of road near the brick pile and smile as seven children play a little game of cricket. A boy is wielding the bat shouting out a mile a minute, pointing this way and that most likely giving a little coaching, or perhaps explaining to Sangita, the new girl, about how ghost runners work.

I set my Sony Digital SW-33 pocket radio down on the ledge and tune it to 103.1 FM, the BBC World Service just as Gareth Mitchell wraps up his live report from Mexico City on the economic toll of the swine flu pandemic. I shift the radio to the right, then a little more, forward a little, just to get the reception clear enough.......oh, there it went, back left a little.... perfect. "And now a world sport update. The Bayern-Munich Football Club has just sacked its head coach after only 10 months at the job."

I didn't know Bayern-Munich had fired the last coach.

The sky quickly changes from orange to peach to light blue to purple as night settles in. Slowly the lights of those lucky enough to have battery back-ups pop on and light up the valley as though I am looking down on the starry sky. The scent of rain becomes overpowered by the smell of smoke from a fire in the field just to the south of our gate. Not that plastic smell of a trash fire, but the woodsy smell of a brush pile burning. The neighbors have been clearing that field and tilling it for days getting it ready for planting corn as well as preparing for the monsoons that are just around the corner. Three men are working diligently to get all the brush they had cleared that day into the fire. As one man deposits another handful of dead branches and grass into the fire, their tall shadows cast by the sudden flare of firelight dance on the walls surrounding several of the nearby houses.

I take a long sip of my iced-mocha and savor the scene. Now this is no Starbucks Cappuccino by any means. One-and-a-half packets of Cappa Roma's Mocha Cappuccino powder mix and a spoonful of sugar stirred together and left in the fridge for 14 hours. Not perfect, but it beats that Sanka crap the guys are drinking on their breaks at Indian Call Centers.

The sound of the city is quickly overpowered by the roar of a Beechcraft 1900DS turboprop, operated by Buddha Airlines, on its final approach to Tribhuvan International Airport located approximately 1 mile directly southeast of our flat. I follow the plane and watch it until it sinks out of sight below the horizon of shanty shacks and crumbling buildings just before touchdown. Moments later I catch glimpses of it between buildings as it taxies to the domestic hangar. The sounds of the city return. The faint horn of a taxi honking, the chatter of people, cows mooing, and from a nearby house the din and racket of dinner being prepared as a pressure cooker lets off a spray of steam for the third time.

A cigarette. Well, I don’t smoke, but if I did, this would be a perfect time to smoke it. Something about Nepal just makes one want to smoke. Maybe it is the fact that literally everybody is doing it, even kids. After reading statistics about how the air quality in Kathmandu is equivalent to smoking 2 packs of cigarettes a day, I can't help but think, "Hey, what’s one more cigarette?" I am not a smoker and I do consider myself somewhat health conscious, nevertheless, I do see how a cigarette has the potential to elevate good moments into great ones.

The cricket game by the brick pile has just about run out of light and run out of steam. The streets are all but empty and the hush of evening that falls like dew on the valley is beginning to settle, broken only by the occasional bark of a dog on the street excited about a discovery he made in a trash pile: a shoe, a bone, a discarded apple, a scrap of meat. All the while, not a soul has noticed me above the scene watching it all like an unseen deity. I can't help but to put myself in their shoes for a moment. To imagine what they have done today, or will do tomorrow. To imagine what they might be doing in those houses where I hear the sounds through open windows, but see nothing through the curtains. The boy getting yelled at for not doing his homework. The wife asking her husband how his day was, and his half-hearted response. The family dinner. The brother and sister arguing. The wind rustling the tr.......oh wait, those are my kids arguing. The pleasant aforementioned terrace soccer game has turned into something more akin to a bar room brawl and....uh huh, just as I thought the ball just got thrown off the roof.

So also the scene wraps up below me. My moment of relaxation has passed. I turn off my radio, take the last sip of my now luke-warm mocha, descend from my sanctuary and think, "Some poor schmuck on the other side of the world is just now beginning his Thursday sitting down with his morning paper and getting ready to wash down the bad news to a breakfast of 2 eggs over-easy, 2 sausage links, 2 buttermilk pancakes with extra syrup, a tall glass of OJ and a cup of coffee - cream, no sugar."

"Americans."

No automated sprinkler system are seen from my perch. No manicured lawns or shiny new business parks anywhere in sight. But this is my life, my paradise.

-Joshua Wilson, Kathmandu, Nepal May 2009

I Don't Mind Losing

2009-05-03T22:16:00.003-05:00

The following is one of my favorite excerpts from Mark Helprin. It is from the short story, "Monday" which can be found in his outstanding collection of short stories, The Pacific. The entire story resonated with me and as soon as I read the following exchange I knew that I would carry it with me for a long time. (There is a lot of Helprin that I'm carrying around with me.)

Backstory: Fitch is a contractor in New York City and he is taking on a renovation for a recently widowed woman. They have met at a restaurant for lunch to discuss the final terms of the contract which Fitch has tilted extremely generously towards the woman's favor. As we pick up the story at the midpoint, Lilly (the woman) is speaking-

"It sound so disadvantageous to you. It makes me nervous. Do you understand?"

"Of course I do. Look, I don't know what happened to the country, but everybody tries to screw everybody else. More so than in my father's day, more so than when I was a child, more so than when I was a young man, more so than ten years ago...more so than last year. Everybody lies, cheats, manipulates, and steals. It's as if the world is a game, and all you're supposed to do is try for maximum advantage. Even if you don't want to do it that way, when you find yourself attacked from all sides in such fashion, you begin to do it anyway. Because, if you don't, you lose. And no one these days can tolerate losing."

"Can you?" Lilly asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Tell me."

He hesitated, listening to the clink of glasses and the oceanlike roar of conversation magnified and remagnified under the vaulted ceilings of the dining rooms off to the side, "I can tolerate losing," he said, "if that's the price I pay, if it's what's required, for honor."

"Honor," she repeated.

"Honor. I often go into things-I almost always go into things-with no calculation but for honor, which I find far more attractive and alluring, and satisfying in every way, than winning. I find it deeply, incomparably satisfying."

Mark Helprin is the greatest writer in the world and I have excerpted him on these pages often. He wrote A Soldier of the Great War, Memoir from Antproof Case, Refiner's Fire, and Freddy and Fredericka, among others. His latest book, Digital Barbarism: A Writer's Manifesto, was just released.

High Seas - Soothing Videos

2009-04-30T18:30:00.000-05:00

There is something about this video that I find so calming. I hope that you do too. I've been on a deep sea fishing boat in waves that were 1/10th of these and I hurled for four hours, and yet, even with that experience, I still can't stop watching this video and the one below it.

If you watch this entire video, you will see some beautiful cliffs as they near land, towards the end of the video. I also like the sounds in this one.

Blue: Storm over the Pacific

2009-04-28T05:00:00.000-05:00

Sunshine and Haze - Charles Courtney Curran

2009-04-27T09:59:00.003-05:00

I am so grateful to my mother for filling the home we grew up in with paintings. I can remember sitting at the dining room table, in the living room, or (in the case of the above painting) in the bathroom, staring at and absorbing all these wonderful pictures. There was no modern art, all the paintings that my mom had were the sort that set fire to the imagination, made you ask all sorts of questions. Mostly natural scenes, they were full of life and light. They were of places that I just had to see. As a teenager I was half in love with the woman in this painting (the sweep of her hair, her flushed cheeks, and that dress!) but more than that, I was desperate to sit on that cliff, or one just like it. And since that time, I have; and I appreciated it all the more because of the desire that was born in me so many years ago by this painting.

Indian Call Centers

2009-04-26T15:22:00.004-05:00

In a perfect world, my family would live in a tiny, self-contained little town in the mountains. We would buy meat at the butcher shop, our shoes at the cobbler, our cobbler at the bakers', and singing chimney sweeps with English accents would periodically clean our fireplace. Julie Andrews would visit from the local nunnery to home school the kids and if we ever got lost in the mountains on one of our many day trips, we would just hunker down and sing songs about our favorite things until we were rescued by a group of St. Bernards wearing giant flasks filled with Irish Coffee. For reasons unbeknownst to me, this is not the world I find myself in. The world that I do find myself in, however, although far from perfect does have some neat little perks. One such perk is that I can have a problem with a product that I bought at a local store here in Texas and in my quest to solve the problem with said product, end up having a conversation with a gentleman in India. Apparently, I am one of the few Americans who enjoy this neat little facet of globalism.

Exhibit A: from the April 18th edition of the Wall Street Journal,

"Delta Air Lines Inc. said Friday it has stopped using Indian-based call centers to handle sales and reservations, making it the latest U.S. company to decide the cost benefits of directing calls offshore are outweighed by the backlash from customers.

Delta said it stopped routing calls to India-based call centers over the first three months of the year. Customers had complained they had trouble communicating with Indian agents, the airline said. Last month, Chrysler LLC said it would move its customer-service center back from India."

Now I am as opposed to globalism as the next guy but it does have several positive side effects: 1) cargo ships (the coolest things besides trains) 2) the growing Indian and Chinese middle class (both nonexistent 20 years ago) and 3) the fact that I, Johnny Six-Pack can have a conversation with a guy in India. Why does this not blow our minds? "Honey, you'll never believe it - I talked to a guy from Bangalore today!" I was pretty excited to end up talking to a lady out of Vegas when we were having problems with our Internet so I can only imagine how cool that it would be to get to talk to a guy from India. The main thing I would want to know is what he had for breakfast. The likelihood that I will ever get to make one of these calls is pretty slim as I tend to avoid the phone as if it were the source of the swine flu. But if I did, I think I would imagine my global counterpart taking a break for tea and a cigarette shortly after our call. I imagine him out on the terrace of a shiny new building overlooking the lights of the city under a waxing moon. As a dog barks in the distance, there is the sound of a horn honking and a man shouting (without anger). The heavy air is occasionally cooled by a breeze freighted with the scent of hundreds of wood burning fires, diesel, feces and spices. In the foreground an in ground sprinkler pops up and begins to water the manicured lawn of the business complex. He smiles as he drinks his tea, it is his favorite time of the day, quiet... He tilts his head back and exhales, stubs out his cigarette and prepares himself to go in and talk to more rude Americans. "That last guy was funny, wanted to know what I had for breakfast", he thinks. He laughs and shakes his head, "Americans..." he mumbles as he walks back into the air conditioned complex.

This is why I love Indian call centers.

Simple Pleasures: Redbird

2009-04-20T20:51:00.003-05:00

It comes as grace, this flit of red amongst the green. An undeserved moment of beauty that reminds me of the One who sees me. No matter what is going on in my life, how down I am, the gift of the redbird never fails to lift my spirit. Everything falls away, and for those brief moments, it is just me, the bird, and the Maker.

Drawing by Heather Ward

Crunchy Cons

2009-04-11T22:22:00.002-05:00

While trying to find some Sowell or Helprin in the bookstore today I ran across a book called Crunchy Cons by Rod Dreher. The book jacket caught my attention so I looked him up when I got home and found the following on Mr. Drehers' blog at National Review Online. Some of these I really agree with and some not so much. I have put my thoughts in parenthesis after his.

A Crunchy Con Manifesto
By Rod Dreher
(hijacked by the Ditchdigger)

1. We are conservatives who stand outside the conservative mainstream; therefore, we can see things that matter more clearly. (I'm automatically suspicious of anyone who can see more clearly than others so this one rubs me the wrong way. How bout: 1. We are conservatives who believe in the freedoms and responsibilities espoused by the founding fathers well over two hundred years ago; therefore, we would like to peel back the manifold layers of "progress" that have buried the simple beauty of their original vision.)

2. Modern conservatism has become too focused on money, power, and the accumulation of stuff, and insufficiently concerned with the content of our individual and social character. (If he had said Modern Americans (accumulation of stuff) or Modern Republicans (power.) instead of Modern conservatism then I would have to agree. However modern conservatism to me consists of a pretty small group who is far more concerned with the content of our character than either power or money. I'm thinking specifically of the Big 3 that I listen to, Bill Bennett, Dennis Prager (especially Prager), and Glenn Beck. Or of the greatest living mind on the right, Thomas Sowell who has taught me that economic and human liberty go hand in hand.

3. Big business deserves as much skepticism as big government. (Nine months ago it would have been a lot easier to instantly agree with this one. The slight pause I now feel is probably just a reaction to the current hostilities (French Revolution Part Deux). Yes, I do agree that big business deserves as much skepticism as big government, however the one thing that big business has that big government will never have is - competition. I believe in competition because in the long run it keeps you, me, and them honest. Having said that, I'll never forget what the old farmer said to me, "more money has been stolen at the end of the pen than at the end of the sword." True for both big business and big government, although as we are witnessing now with the differing response to the AIG and Fannie and Freddie bonuses - only the private sector ends up paying for their sins (which again proves the point that ultimately big business, although deserving of skepticism, is still far superior to big government). Might I add one sentence to #3? - And may the unions meet the fate of pirates.

4. Culture is more important than politics and economics. (Sounds sweet but I disagree. Just ask the dude in Bamiyan, Afghanistan who watched the Taliban blow up a couple of 1,500 year old statues back in March of 2001, or the nature loving Chinese guy who used to love paddling his boat along the Yangtze River in the Three Gorges area before the government destroyed it with the Three Gorges Dam. No, culture is elevated by sound politics and economics and destroyed by the lack of. The principles of personal, political, and economic freedom that this country were founded on explain the difference today between the United States and Russia, or Haiti, Cuba, Somalia, North Korea, Venezuela, Libya, Iran, Afghanistan et cetera, et cetera...) Switch the politics and economics for the last two hundred fifty years or so and we not they would be the ones living in fear, poverty, corruption, and repression. Ideas matter and ideas have consequences, something that we have had the luxury of being able to forget. I would amend this one to say 4. Sound politics and economic principles based on individual liberty will create a common culture of excellence that binds many diverse people together in a harmony seen nowhere else.

5. A conservatism that does not practice restraint, humility, and good stewardship—especially of the natural world—is not fundamentally conservative. (Finally, I agree 100%.) (p.s. - global warming is still a hoax.)

6. Small, Local, Old, and Particular are almost always better than Big, Global, New, and Abstract. (I am not alone, I am not alone! Oh, I just want to read this one over and over again. Perfect. And the inclusion of the words "almost always" covers me on the apparent conflict with this statement and my upcoming blog post about my love of Indian call centers.)

7. Beauty is more important than efficiency. (Yes, yes, yes!!! A thousand times yes!)

8. The relentlessness of media-driven pop culture deadens our senses to authentic truth, beauty, and wisdom. (You had me at #6 and yet, they keep coming! I was actually thinking about this yesterday morning; Jennifer Aniston could kill Angelina Jolie with a roadside IED and then kidnap all of her adopted children and run off to Mexico and live in the desert like a bandito with her clan of kidnapped children, get caught by Dog the Bounty Hunter and sentenced to die in the electric chair, request a last meal of chicken fried steak, rhubarb pie and Dr. Pepper and then get fried herself in a Texas state prison as Brad Pitt, Sean Penn and Tim Robbins lay chained together weeping and shouting in protest at the prison gates before they immolated themselves and I still wouldn't care anymore than I do that this is the mother of all run on sentences.)

9. We share Russell Kirk’s conviction that “the institution most essential to conserve is the family.” (Yessiree, small and local, uh huh.)

10. Politics and economics won’t save us; if our culture is to be saved at all, it will be by faithfully living by the Permanent Things, conserving these ancient moral truths in the choices we make in our everyday lives. (I am going to ignore the first five words because technically they are correct and the rest of this is wonderful.)

And although Rod Dreher ducks down and hides everytime I say it; "I'm a Crunchy Con! I'm a Crunchy Con!"

The Time That...

2009-03-21T15:15:00.003-05:00

The following is a true story that occurred sometime in the spring of 2007.

I was walking out the front door, headed for work just before 5 a.m. when I noticed a car idling in front of a house down the street. An older couple lived in this house, so I was curious as to why a car would be idling that early in front of their house, it wouldn't be someone carpooling to work with my neighbor and probably not someone coming to pick him up for an early morning fishing trip; was foul play at work? I was already in a heightened state of alert (threat level yellow) as a friend had recently warded off a burglary attempt on his home, so I crouched down, hidden between the two vehicles in my driveway and began watching and waiting for some clue as to what was going on. After a minute, the car abruptly roared to life, flipped a u-turn and raced up our half mile street and disappeared. Relieved, I backed my truck out of the drive and was getting ready to take off myself when a pair of headlights appeared at the top of the street. It was the same car! He returned to his previous position in front of my neighbor's house and resumed idling. Something just did not feel right about the situation and I didn't want to take off and leave my innocent family slumbering peacefully and vulnerable with this shady character on the street so I put my truck in park and killed my headlights, I wasn't going anywhere until this clown either revealed his intentions or left. After a long and uncomfortable couple of minutes he again suddenly roared to life, flipped a u-ey and disappeared up the street. I sat in front of my house for a few more minutes just to be sure that he was gone for good, said a prayer blessing my home and family and took off for work. Well no sooner than I got to the top of my street and here he comes again. "Oh how clever", I thought, "wait around the corner till I leave and then come back and sack my house...not on my watch you bastard!" So I whipped the old Chevy around and raced down the street in hot pursuit (by now he was moving pretty fast down the street). He took a couple of quick turns and I lost him down some side streets so I drove slowly down a few streets hoping I would cross paths with him again and then there he was. I was determined not to lose him again so I pulled up a foot or two behind him, if he had any doubts as to my intentions, there were none now. I was fully committed to, well to what I wasn't sure, for now harassing him until he got nervous and bolted I guess. My heart began pounding as I wondered how far should I follow him this closely? One mile? Five? And just how long would he put up with this before there was a confrontation? Should I stop and get out if he pulls over or should I just keep going and consider it mission accomplished? Wait, he knows where I live. He turned onto one of the main streets outside our neighborhood and I followed him quickly, again closing the cap between our two vehicles to two feet or less. He began slowing down dramatically and then put his hazard lights on. "Oh no that trick won't work on me you idiot. I am all over you!" I screamed as I noticed him throw something out the window. And then there it was again, he was throwing stuff out the window. It happened a third time and as I watched the white cylinder sail through the air I realized that I was harassing the paper boy.

Now, in my defense, he was acting highly suspicious, and was clearly looking to evade me once I initially whipped around to follow him (though in retrospect who could blame him). This little episode does illustrates a sad but comedic truth. If awkward situations were an Olympic sport, I would be up on the medal stand mouthing the Star Spangled Banner more often than Micheal Phelps.

A Little Dose of Optimism

2009-02-23T22:23:00.000-06:00

One of the highlights of Saturday morning is reading Peggy Noonan in the Wall Street Journal. Following is the last two paragraphs from her piece on 2/21.

"Perhaps the biggest factor behind the new pessimism is the knowledge that the crisis is not only economic but political, that we’ll have to change both cultures, economic and political, to turn the mess around. That’s a tall order, and won’t happen quickly. One thing for sure: Our political leaders for at least a decade, really more, have by and large been men and women who had fortunate lives, who always seemed to expect nice things to happen and happiness to occur. And so they could overspend, overcommit and overextend the military, and it would all turn out fine. They claimed to be quintessentially optimistic, but it was a cheap optimism, based more on sunny personal experience than any particular faith, and void of an understanding of how dark and gritty life can be, and has been for most of human history.

I end with a hunch that is not an unhappy one. Dynamism has been leached from our system for now, but not from the human brain or heart. Just as our political regeneration will happen locally, in counties and states that learn how to control themselves and demonstrate how to govern effectively in a time of limits, so will our economic regeneration. That will begin in someone’s garage, somebody’s kitchen, as it did in the case of Messrs. Jobs and Wozniak. The comeback will be from the ground up and will start with innovation. No one trusts big anymore. In the future everything will be local. That’s where the magic will be. And no amount of pessimism will stop it once it starts."

The Peaceful Valley

2008-05-02T09:29:00.012-05:00

"Lord take me home
To the peaceful valley
Down the winding river
To your city of souls
I've grown so tired
And my hearts too heavy
To walk any longer
To your cities of gold

All my life I've longed for forgiveness
But I can't ever seem to get enough
All my life I've been rocked into the darkness...

Trying to find a peaceful song
Trying to find a peaceful song
To sing when everything goes wrong
Till the peaceful valley calls me home"

-Ryan Adams

There is a cemetery just south of our house where the kids and I like to walk and ride bikes. When I walk out my front door in the morning and head to the left I can see the military portion of the cemetery; the tombstones of soldiers from the Spanish American War, World Wars I and II and the Korean conflict lined up in procession, cresting and dissapearing over a gentle rise. Seeing those tombstones every morning is a handsome and needed reminder of the grim sacrifices made on a daily basis for our nation.

One thing that surprised me over a decade ago when I left home to strike out on my own was how hard life is. I don't know why this surprised me like it did, but it was a shock. I think the thing that surprised me, as it probably does most people was just how much work life is. As a youngster I guess I just assumed that once you got old you reached some point where you leveled off and then it was pretty much auto pilot from then on, till the landing. But at some point in my twenties, it dawned on me that everything is in a steady state of decline (home,car,body, holiness, relationships) and requires constant upkeep. So much work! As a young boy, I had always looked forward to Heaven, but once I realized how much work was between me and the grave, I was ready to throw in the towel. I'm sure you've probably felt the same thing from time to time so you understand me when I say this is not suicidal, but rather a weary mental submission to the inevitable. "Same sh*t, different day" and "no rest for the weary," that sort of thing. So I spent plenty of time daydreaming about Heaven, looking forward to the great escape. As I matured (slowly), my need for mental escapes grew fewer and fewer, but my basic frame of mind was still basically, "just grin and bear it, this too will soon pass, and then...ohhh! how glorious it will be!" As I walked through the graveyard last fall I still had a tinge of envy for those resting souls, the song by Ryan Adams excerpted above always running through my head.

Slowly over the last year my thinking has been transformed on the subject of Heaven. I read Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell which kickstarted the process, and then recently read The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis which completed my mental one-eighty. I can now say that I look forward to and even desire a long life, regardless of how hard, painful, or full of toil it may be. Jesus has invited us to join him in a grand adventure. And it is! He has shown me to view every hardship and pain as opportunity, and toil as a gift.

Here's Rob Bell in Velvet Elvis: (silencio John!)

"When we choose God's vision of who we are, we are living as God made us to live. We are living in the flow of how we are going to live forever. This is the life of heaven, here and now. And as we live this life, in harmony with God's intentions for us, the life of heaven becomes more and more present in our lives. Heaven comes to earth. This is why Jesus taught his disciples to pray, "May your will be done on earth as it is in heaven." There is this place, this realm, heaven, where things are as God desires them to be. As we live this way, heaven comes here...

The question wasn't, how do I get in there? But how do I get there here?"

Finally, here is C.S. Lewis as found in the absolute masterpiece, The Great Divorce:

"There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, "Thy will be done," and those to whom God says, in the end, "Thy will be done." All that are in Hell, choose it. Without that self choice there could be no Hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it. Those who seek find. To those who knock it is opened."

So now, as I walk through that same cemetery where the trees are beginning to blossom, my prayer has changed from, "how long, oh Lord, how long?" to "God, I'm in. I want to fight down here, with these people, for as long as you'll let me, I'll take as much as I can get."

Everything has changed.

Going Negative

2009-02-08T17:42:00.002-06:00

I've been feeling rather depressed lately. I can't seem to beat it, so I'm going to bleed it out on paper.

A Bunch of Stuff That Really Annoys Me:

Standing Ovations. Somewhere along the way, the standing ovation got hijacked. The standing ovation should be reserved for performances so transcendent that they either leave you weeping in your seat or compel you to leap to your feet to shout and clap with wild abandon. My guess is that even if I had season tickets to The Met, I might only see three such performances in a lifetime. On too many occasions I have stubbornly refused to budge from my seat while all around me, entire audiences including my embarrassed wife rose in unison to salute performances that were mediocre at best. Yes, your kid was cute in the Christmas pageant, but he deserves a hug not a standing O. Please join me in the seats, let's make the standing ovation mean something again.

Bicycle Helmets. My wife and I used to make fun of people who wore bicycle helmets. Then we had kids and she bought them bicycle helmets. (Cue longstanding marital disagreement.) My friends and I never wore bike helmets growing up, whether we were standing on the seat with one leg, riding backwards, or bombing down steep hills and we never wore helmets. There is no better way to say, "I am a risk averse American wuss" than to put on a bicycle helmet.

Nuance. This word is used all the time in the media, usually to explain how brilliant a certain politician is, how he understands things at a deeper level than either his colleagues or you. The dictionary defines nuance as "a subtle distinction or variation". So when the media says something along the lines of, "Senator Wormwood brings a more nuanced approach to universal health care than his predecessor", they are implying that Senator Wormwood is so brilliant, so heavy that he can distinguish between a thousand shades of grey. I'm not buying it, whenever I hear the word nuance used in this way, I automatically translate it into its actual meaning, "unnecessarily complicated."

The guy in shorts and flip flops who passes you doing a wheelie on his motorcycle at 90 miles an hour. Always prompts me to shake my fist and scream, "if you crash - I'm not stopping to peel you up off the pavement!" This entry may seem strange considering my dislike of bike helmets. Nuance, my friends. Bicycle helmets and the flip flop wearing wheelie poppers reside at opposite ends of the safety spectrum. One is too safe, the other is too dangerous and in between lies that forgotten trait, common sense.

Guys who wear "Second Place is the First Loser" t-shirts. I would like to assemble a couple thousand of these guy in a convention center and force them to play musical chairs until there was only one winner. Everyone else would then be told they were losers and their shirts would be confiscated.

Catching Up

2008-12-26T17:16:00.004-06:00

The Plain at Suzaki by Utagawa Hiroshige

I apologize for not posting on a more frequent basis. We've been without the internet for the past 6 months and so it has been difficult to get around to posting. We're tossing around the idea of going back online next year so hopefully I'll be able to resume a more regular posting schedule. In the meantime, I've enjoyed not having the internet cause I read a lot more books, but do miss it for all the little conveniences. I've been on a bit of a Middle East binge lately, here are some recomendations:

Books:

From Beirut to Jerusalem by Thomas Friedman. Kind of a memoir of the time he spent as a journalist in the Middle East. Eye opening and pretty fair for a guy from the enemy paper.

Guests of the Ayatollah by Mark Bowden. Super interesting read about the Iranian hostage crisis from 79-81. I absolutely love the way this guy writes. Super thorough, never dry, covers all the angles. Stayed up way too late, way too many night in a row reading this one.

Vengeance by George Jonas. This thriller is the true story that Steven Spielberg based his movie Munich on. The movie was horrible, the book is incredible. When I got done reading it I wished I wished I had never read it just so that I could read it all over again for the first time. Disturbing, makes your pulse race.

Movies:

The Color of Paradise. This Iranian film is about a blind boy whose widowed father is ashamed of him. Beautiful, a real treat for sensates, moves slowly enough to let you feel it. Also gives you a heart for the Iranian people and their land (which was surprisingly scenic).

The Kite Runner. A heavy but ultimately redemptive film about two boys from Afghanistan. Again, will give you a love for the people and the parts of their culture not corrupted by the Taliban. These two movies are both sad and heavy, but I can't stand nor would I recommend a movie without redemption. Redemption doesn't have to come wrapped neatly with a bow on top at the end of the movie, but it must be there for me to enjoy a movie.

Charlie Wilson's War. Gentlemen, you'll have to avert your eyes during the first 3-4 minutes of this one, but it's clean after that. Interesting. The end will make you whistle and mutter sadly, "well, we really blew that one didn't we?"

Thanks, Lady Bird

2007-04-13T10:44:00.000-05:00

The bluebonnets are back and we are loving it down here in Texas. Carpets of bluebonnets, Indian Paintbrushes and various other native wildflowers dotting the landscape along our highways and county roads make driving just about anywhere in Texas a joy this time of year. For that we can thank our former first lady, Lady Bird Johnson, a woman whose tireless efforts to promote natural beauty and conservation led to the Highway Beautification Act of 1965.

While looking at Mrs. Johnsons' website wildflower.org I ran across the following quote that I'll finish this post with - "Mrs. Johnson's concern for the environment was matched by her deep appreciation for wild America's native beauty. Her belief that beauty can bolster the spirit of a society and her determination to make the United States a more beautiful place became Lady Bird's true legacy. "Ugliness is so grim," Lady Bird Johnson once said. "A little beauty can help create harmony which will lessen tensions."

Photos taken along Interste 10 between Houston and San Antonio.

Yeah, I think I can make it

2007-04-29T15:36:00.000-05:00

Took these pictures yesterday on the bridge just below Gruene. Not sure what this guy was thinking, but heard on the news that he was rescued and then immediately arrested. You can't see it in the picture but his car was getting tore up from all the debris in the water. The dam is going to be letting off this much water all week so he's not going to have much left if they don't figure out a way to get it out of there.

California Love

2007-05-17T21:47:00.000-05:00

The last four years I have had the fortunate privilege of visiting Southern California in the spring when the snow is still capping the peaks above Los Angeles and wildflowers carpet the high desert. I have mixed feelings about California, I love to visit and I love to leave. They have every conceivable variety of vegetation, desert, and mountain all jammed into a pretty small area. All four years my head has been on a constant swivel just trying to take it all in. The negative, of course, is all the people jammed into that same small area. Don't stop to smell the flowers - you'll get run over.

A little slice of heaven off of Interstate 5 south of Lebec

A Texas-like view on Highway 138 between Gorman and Palmdale

The RR tracks running along Historic route 66 in Oro Grande

My co-worker Shawn with Mt. San Antonio in the background last April. Getting to see this sight was a total surprise and near accident.

In Good Company - Part 1

2007-05-26T13:18:00.001-05:00

Thomas, getting 'er done in New Braunfels, TX

Nicknames: Longshanks, X-Factor, Bones, T-Train
Songs: Hard Working Man - Brooks & Dunn, Jole Blon - Waylon Jennings

In one Word: Loyal

Tom is the kind of guy who can build, fix, or modify anything. I keep telling him that when the Chinese, or whomever, invade us, that my family is moving with his up into the mountains in [secret location] where we will live off the land and form a resistance movement. A hard working and talented guy, Tom has been a great co-worker over the past couple of years.

Shawn, happy to be standing on a frozen lake in Colorado moments before we set off on a four mile hike through the snow that nearly did us in.

Nicknames: Sunday Morning, Mr. Automatic

Songs: Easy - The Commodores, Boom - P.O.D., Copenhagen - Robert Earl Keen

In One Word: Steadfast

Shawn is the most reliable and constant guy I have ever worked with. He is like Tim Duncan, quietly and steadily banking 10 footers off the glass day in and day out. I will miss his easy going personality and infectious laugh. I can imagine Shawn sitting on his front porch calmly chewing tobacco and drinking ice tea during a category 5 hurricane saying something like "how bout that?", as the world crashes down all around him.

Bobby, on cloud 9 in southwestern Oklahoma.

Nicknames: Mr. Boucher, The Comeback Kid
Songs: Heart of Gold - Neil Young, Against the Wind - Bob Seger, Rusty Cage - Johnny Cash

In Three Words: Tough as Nails

If you can imagine it, Bobby has experienced it. Life keeps dealing him blow after blow and Bobby keeps getting back up long after most guys would have given up or died. Three stories filed under the category "Dog" will illustrate what I'm talking about. The first year I worked with Bobby, one of his dogs was kidnapped and taken to Pennsylvania by a heartbroken elderly man whose own dog had recently passed away. With the help of friends, Bobby was able to track down his dog and fly it back home.
Last year, on the company beach trip his son Dylan ended up in the hospital after a pit bull bit his knee. And finally, earlier this year his dog killed a monkey in the front yard. Yes, read that last sentence again, bearing in mind that we live in Texas. His dog killed a monkey!

As tragedy after tragedy far more serious than a kidnapped dog or dead monkey has entered Bobby's life, he has risen with a resolve and inner reservoir of strength that has left me amazed. And just like Job, he has refused to curse God, his faith stronger rather than weaker after all he has been through. I have seen Bobby work hard all day, time after time on days when most guys in his situation would just have called in sick. More importantly, Bobby is an all-star dad who gives 110% to his kids as well as his job. I am humbled to work with him, his example will live in my heart as long as I live.

Nate, pausing to watch Shawn's 4x4 hijinks after a hard day's work clearing brush.

Nickname: Nate Dogg
Song: Crazy - Gnarls Barkley

In One Word: Creative

Nate is a computer, marketing and PR genius. He is slowly transforming the look and presentation of the company. Nate's sharp wit and sense of humor keep us all laughing whenever we are in the office. And whenever anybody has a computer question the response is always, "call Nate, he'll know." Nate's computer skills, business savvy and humor will take him far in life.

Brett, auditioning for "When Animals Attack!" in southern Cali.

Nicknames: Friday Night, Dyno-mite!
Songs: Get Down Tonight - KC and The Sunshine Band, Bang a Gong (Get it On) - T. Rex

In one Word: Encouraging

Brett is the life of the party, always clownin' around and making everybody laugh. On the toughest days, he'll drive by whistling and hollering or doing something to lift your spirits. Also incredibly devoted to his teammates, if Brett's around - you know somebody's got your back.

The people you work with end up being like a second family - you laugh, cry, fight, and experience large portions of life together. In our case, "like a band of gypsies [we've rolled] down the highway" spending many a day together in far away places, working our tails off, enjoying the scenery, eating like kings, and trying not to let the "sound of our own wheels drive us crazy."

In Good Company - Part 2

2007-05-28T14:06:00.000-05:00

Quarrytech - Late Summer 2006

Quarrytech - Fall 2003

What a fun ride it has been! I've got to thank the two owners, Jay Heck and J.R. Heck for giving me the opportunity four years ago to come and help them build Quarrytech into a South Texas powerhouse. They have been unbelievably generous over the years, paying us all way more than anybody else would have, treating us to beach trips, lavish dinners,numerous bonuses, and time off. In addition, they have always bent over backwards to supply us with the highest quality equipment to ensure that we are able to do our jobs without the hassles of repeated equipment failure. It's been fun to work for two guys whose faith has compelled them to spread the wealth around rather than hoarding it for themselves.

A Great Line

2007-10-10T18:14:00.000-05:00

"It was a lovely night, one of those nights, dear reader, which can only happen when you are young. The sky was so bright and starry that when you looked at it the first question that came into your mind was whether it was really possible that all sorts of bad-tempered and unstable people could live under such a glorious sky."

-Opening line to White Nights,

a short story by Dostoevsky

Feels Like Years...

2007-10-12T16:00:00.000-05:00

Placid
Here she is. I cannot tell you how much peace this little girl brings to me. Amidst moving (twice), starting a new job (sort of), and Margaret's birth, the last four months have been crazy. But this sweet little package of grace and love has flooded our souls with a sustaining peace and surprisngly, rest. We had initially been planning on calling her Charlotte, but as I told friends, she looked much too regal for that when we first saw her and so out of the blue she ended up as Margaret. I have received quite a bit of gentle ribbing about this, but scoffers take note: in our house, we play an endless procession of music cds and Margaret has no reaction to any of them except for the visible reaction she shows to classical music. Unlike Willie Nelson, it never fails to put her in a great mood. Told Ya!

Ramblin
We are now located in Des Moines, Iowa - one third of the way between Canada and Mexico on Interstate 35 and almost halfway between New York and San Francisco on Interstate 80. I am enjoying being at the crossroads of two great American highways, but still wish I was further south at the crossroads of I-35 and I-10. Although it is a slightly different string of pearls than I-10, I just love heading West on I-80 knowing that Cheyenne, Salt Lake, Reno and San Fran are all just sitting out there in the setting sun waiting for me.

Unbecoming
In the course of my work, I run across quite a few men in their 50's and 60's. I look up to and enjoy being around older men and so I am always excited by these brushes with wisdom. Probably more so because of the initial burst of anticipatory excitement, I am always extremely let down when they turn out to be more like a 30 year old than a 60 year old. I've got to say that one of the saddest sights in this world is a dirty old man or a bitter old woman. Old age should be a glorious time. So many battles behind you, so many rivers crossed, valleys endured and peaks enjoyed. It is a time to pass on lessons learned to those in need of your wisdom, a time to slow down a little and enjoy the world with your knowing yet grateful eyes. I am so thankful that I have grandparents who are people I can look up to.

From the Mighty Mo' to the Mighty Miss
I've been to Omaha four times now in the last few months and I've got to say that it is such a great town. The Missouri River runs along the eastern edge of town and the wide and sandy Platte River runs just to the south of it. It is a town with a great railroading heritage that is celebrated by the two locomotive engines permanently parked on the river bluff just above the highway as you come in from the east on I-80. You can feel the history in the air, the stories of both hard working men of the field and of free living hoboes riding by on boxcars heading from one great city to another. Like Des Moines, it is immediately and completely surrounded by fields full of grain, corn and beans as soon as you get out of town. Sitting on the edge of Omaha gazing west gives me a similar feeling to the one I used to get as a teenager when I would stand knee deep in Atlantic staring out into the darkness at the great emptiness between me and Europe. As you sit there can feel the vast and wonderful nothingness between you and the mountains of the West, and out of the dark, a siren song wails, tugging, tugging at you till you can barely stand it and almost give in.

Also had the chance to visit Dubuque, Iowa on the Mississippi River, a town where you feel like at any minute the ghost of Johnny Cash is going to float by, feet dangling off of one of the many barges moving either north or south as he soaks up the sun. Really, the Mississippi is stunning from St. Paul all the way down to at least Davenport ( that's as far as I have been up to now). The river runs through a deep valley surrounded on either side by towering river bluffs topped with tall and leafy trees.

The corn was 6 to 7 feet tall and green as grass when we got here and it now a bleached tan just waiting to be harvested. I am so jealous of the farmers running down miles of corn in their green John Deere combines from well before sun up to well after sun down. That has got to bring such a great feeling of accomplishment as well as a connection to both the past, and the rhythms of life and earth.

Fellow Sojourners
Before we left Texas, Jen and I were able to catch Patty Griffin live in concert in Austin. While waiting for the show to begin, we started talking to the couple next to us. I love Patty Griffin, but I've got to say the highlight of the evening was getting to meet this couple. They were so much fun to talk to. He is a scientist/conservationist type guy who was in Kileen, TX studying birds and has since moved to Florida to work on another project. I would like to point you in the direction of his blog which is filled with tons of great wildlife pictures like this one. You can get a better look at the photos by clicking on them which will enlarge them. Check out the amazing colors in the coral snake.

Iraq
My buddy Scott has one month left in Iraq, after being there for 15 months. Would you please pray for his safety during this last month?

God Bless Texas.

El Paso & a Poem

2007-10-24T15:07:00.000-05:00

Brothers

Rolling down 54

between

the setting sun and rising moon

so fat and full tonight

they hang there like scales

and I can't help but feel that we are

the ones being weighed

On the Road Again

and

I've Always Been Crazy

blaring from the radio

as we blast down that desert highway

the music coarsing through our veins

like blood

cause their ain't no song

like the one you're livin'

All day long we fought

the desert wind

and dust

but never

let them get the

best of us

we're off to celebrate

at Andale's tonight

Gathered round the table

we eat and drink our fill

cause tommorow

we'll die

again

between the rising sun

and setting moon

only to be

resurrected

by the beauty of mountains

and the strength of brothers

Ray's doing his best Cosell

and Brett is cracking jokes

as Shawn takes it all in

up on the hill

overlooking

dirty Juarez

Nobody's smiling

but its not cause

we aren't happy

the night wind

is blowing now

and it picks up our souls

Spinning, spinning

it carries them

high up into

the mountains

We can't get there

any other way.