Christmas Carol

On this Christmas Eve, as snow falls outside here in Dallas, I'm listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter's great holiday CD "Come Darkness, Come Light."

And her song, "Christmas Carol" struck me. We're counting this as a rare White Christmas, whether or not it sticks on the ground, or there's any here tomorrow. And out at the stores a moment ago, how great it was to see the expressions on people's faces as they came outside, looked up to feel Christmas Eve snow falling on their faces.

Christmas Carol
by Mary Chapin Carpenter

The week before Thanksgiving Day
This town puts up its old display
Streetlights hung with candy canes and bows
The earlier it gets each year
The scarcer is my Christmas cheer
I guess I just like taking these things slow

I really don't remember much
Of Christmases growing up
Except the year the Beatles came to play
On my record player that came from Sears
That White Album filled my ears
In 1968 on Christmas Day

I haven't been to church since God knows when
I'm not someone who usually attends
Truth be told there's just two wishes
On my list every Christmas
Peace on earth and a snow storm now and then

Now I pray that peace comes in our time
It's hard enough to keep from crying
When every bit of news just breaks your heart
The same old stories, same old songs
We dust them off when Christmas comes
And for one day we just try to do our part

And around here winter seems to come
With rain and mud and bits of sun
It's not exactly Currier and Ives
I don't mind cold if it brings snow
Alberta Clippers come and go
But a dusting would make everything all right

Perhaps a Christmas eve from long ago
Delivered Christmas day with knee-high snow
It's something lost but not forgotten
Like candy hidden in a stocking
That makes me every year wish it were so

Because Christmas is for children's joy
For every single girl and boy
That's the truth we come to understand
But the memories that don't let go
Like Beatles songs and falling snow
Can make us feel innocent again

And maybe next year we won't go insane
When they rush to hang the bows and candy canes
Because peace will shine in me and you
From Bethlehem to Timbuktu
Even if the forecast is for rain

Because peace will shine in me and you
From Bethlehem to Timbuktu
Even if the forecast is for rain.

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The Abominable Holy Night: Because You Need a Laugh

OK. Get ready. If you've never heard this before, I offer you your biggest laugh of the day...because, as I often say, we people of faith take ourselves waaay too seriously....

The Abominable Holy Night

So now, you're wondering, "what was that?!!!" You can find out here.

All honor and glory to the Burnside Writer's Cooperative.

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Attention TCU: Welcome to the Big Show. Now Act Like You Deserve It.

I'm only writing this because I've heard multiple TCU friends complaining/grumbling over the past 24-hours about the BCS selection process.

They're saying...
"We got robbed."
"We should be in the big game."
"The BCS is afraid of us."
"The system sucks."

OK. For the record? I totally agree with the last statement. Yes, absolutely, the system sucks. Yes, absolutely, we need a playoff system. Right with you on that, baby. Power to the people.

In fact, if you're really interesting in a playoff system, check out this idea. I came up with this last year, when my team, the Texas Longhorns, seem to be one of the teams that got "screwed" by the system. Please remember that last year, the Horns *beat* Oklahoma. Yet Oklahoma went to the national championship game. In fact, we beat Missouri too, and the Sooners and MIzzou played for the Big 12 Championship.

Was that fair? Of course not.

So, it made me again consider the grail-like quest for a playoff system. But that's not gonna happen this year. In fact, it's not gonna happen next year either. In fact, the earliest it seems to me like it will happen could be 2015, but personally, I don't even think it will happen then.

So, that leaves us with the system we have now. The BCS. And you can love it, or you can hate it, but it is what it is.

So, to my TCU friends, let me say the following as lovingly and with as much care as I can:

Get over yourselves. Grow up. Welcome to the BIG SHOW. You've made it. Now act like you deserve to be here. Barring a *loss* by Texas, there was no way you were going to the National Championship Game this year. No way. (Sorry anybody told you differently...)

You're mad to be playing Boise again? Get over that too. I can give you a list of 100 other teams that would *kill* to play Boise in the Fiesta.

Please see that this is a totally different game. Nobody's "afraid" of TCU. Promise. You were not the only team in the top ten that needed to be placed in a big bowl. Given the way all the other chips fell, you ended up with Boise again. It wasn't because anybody is *afraid* of you. It's just how the whole system works.

You're playing in one of the five biggest games of the bowl season. Millions of people will put aside everything they are doing that day and enjoy watching your team. I hope you *crush* Boise. Seriously. That should put you in the top five, pre-season next year. (Possibly even #2) This is a good thing.

Almost NO team *ever* goes from never having played in a BCS game to playing in the championship game. Very few ever have. If you hope to be in the big time, play with the big boys, you've got to be play with them year after year after year. And you've got to get used to the fact that, now and then, your team will get "screwed." Some other year, your team won't get screwed. That's the way it works.

When I was in college UT lost a national championship because some guy dropped a punt. Was that fair? In the past few years, LSU has definitely been "screwed" by the system. Bama feels like they got "screwed" last year.

But, LSU has also won the whole thing in the recent past, and Bama now has a chance this year. That's the way it works.

Did you really think this year was your only shot? I hope not. I hope you'll be competing at the top for some time. College football needs the Boise's, the Cincy's, and you. Your emergence may be the thing that finally breaks up the BCS for good.

But it's not gonna happen without yall knocking at the door year after year after year...just like Texas does...just like Oklahoma, Florida, LSU, Oregon, and USC do. (BTW, since my Dad went there, Cincy is actually my personal favorite "Cinderella" this year. I think they are at least as deserving as TCU, but they're not getting a shot this year either...and their coach is definitely positioning the Orange Bowl as a step on the road to the Big Game....)

A win in the Fiesta Bowl will be a great next step for TCU, and it matters not that you're playing the same team you played before. Hate to tell you, but nobody watched that other game. (Yes, I know *you* did...) This year, we'll all be watching.

Finally, how pitiful that you say you'll cheer for Bama over UT. Again, this shows a lack of class and make me argue that you really don't yet belong at this level yet.

When OU goes to the championship game, I cheer for OU!! No kidding. If A&M went to the big game (hey, pigs could fly...) I would absolutely cheer for them. The same for Texas Tech or Oklahoma State. (Yes, I am now officially on record...)

Especially if the opponent is from the SEC, Big 10, or Pac 10, it makes sense to cheer for the team from your region. If TCU had gone to the National Championship game, I would *totally* be cheering for TCU over Alabama.

It's good for every team in this region if a team in this region wins.

But you're so "hurt" by the BCS this year that you can't see that. Which is really sad to me.

But I'm also trusting that, over the next few years, you'll grow into your role as a big-time program. To get mentioned by the media, to finally get to the big game, takes years and years.

Get over yourselves. Buy your tickets to Arizona. Cheer like hell.

And welcome to the Big Time.

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Kathleen, did you send the snow today?

What a joy to wake up to a brief snow storm this morning. (pics here)

What a joy to have Maria run in the bedroom, screaming "IT'S SNOWING!!!" That kind of memory will never fade.

Every time it snows, I will remember that moment of joy.

And I needed this snow this morning. I needed the joy. Because I have a sore throat and allergies that won't leave, yes, that's part of it. But the greater part is that one year ago this morning, Kathleen Baskin-Ball died.

A year ago, just a couple of hours from now, I got a call from Bill Ball, saying that Kathleen had just died. The rest of the afternoon was a blur of tears, prayers and hugs.

Like the blend of wet snow and rain that will surely come just a few moments from now, joy is mixed with sorrow, life with death.

The other day, Tom Geddie reminded me of a saying that was carved into the corner of the bar at the old Poor David's Pub on Greenville Avenue*. It was a little life observation that somehow fits today:

"Life is like licking honey off a thorn."

The good is always a "wintery mix" with the bad, sorrow will always follow happiness...will always follow sorrow...will....you get the idea...

So, I invite you to read this tribute I wrote about Kathleen a year ago tomorrow. It's my offering for the day.

And I will watch the rest of this snow melt off, grinning from time to time...and wondering....

Dear Kathleen, did you send us the snow today?

We love you and miss you still...

* Where Bill and Kathleen "remet" by the way...

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Buechner on Christmas

What follows is one of the most beautiful few paragraphs about Christmas ever written. I have had this blog...what?....six years? Why am I just now sharing this?

Anyway, here it is, from one of my all-time favorite writers, Frederick Buechner, and his book "Whistling in the Dark: An ABC Theologized." (A book I cannot recommend highly enough)

"Christmas:
The lovely old carols played and replayed till their effect is like a dentist's drill or a jack hammer, the bathetic banalities of the pulpit and the chilling commercialism of almost everything else, people spending money they can't afford on presents you neither need nor want, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," the plastic tree, the cornball creche, the Hallmark Virgin. Yet for all our efforts, we've never quite managed to ruin it. That in itself is part of the miracle, a part you can see. Most of the miracle you can't see, or don't.

The young clergyman and his wife do all the things you do on Christmas Eve. They string the lights and hang the ornaments. They supervise the hanging of the stockings. They tuck in the children. They lug the presents down out of hiding and pile them under the tree. Just as they're about to fall exhausted into bed, the husband remembers his neighbor's sheep. The man asked him to feed them for him while he was away, and in the press of other matters that night he forgot all about them. So down the hill he goes through knee-deep snow. He gets two bales of hay from the barn and carries them out to the shed. There's a forty-watt bulb hanging by its cord from the low roof, and he lights it. The sheep huddle in a corner watching as he snaps the baling twine, shakes the squares of hay apart and starts scattering it. Then they come bumbling and shoving to get at it with their foolish, mild faces, the puffs of their breath showing in the air. He is reaching to turn off the bulb and leave when suddenly he realizes where he is. The winter darkness. The glimmer of light. The smell of the hay and the sound of the animals eating. Where he is, of course, is the manger.

He only just saw it. He whose business it is above everything else to have an eye for such things is all but blind in that eye. He who on his best days believes that everything that is most precious anywhere comes from that manger might easily have gone home to bed never knowing that he had himself just been in the manger. The world is the manger. It is only by grace that he happens to see this other part of the miracle.

Christmas itself is by grace. It could never have survived our own blindness and depredations otherwise. It could never have happened otherwise. Perhaps it is the very wildness and strangeness of the grace that has led us to try to tame it. We have tried to make it habitable. We have roofed it in and furnished it. We have reduced it to an occasion we feel at home with, at best a touching and beautiful occasion, at worst a trite and cloying one. But if the Christmas event in itself is indeed - as a matter of cold, hard fact - all it's cracked up to be, then even at best our efforts are misleading.

The Word become flesh. Ultimate Mystery born with a skull you could crush one-handed. Incarnation. It is not tame. It is not touching. It is not beautiful. It is uninhabitable terror. It is unthinkable darkness riven with unbearable light. Agonized laboring led to it, vast upheavals of intergalactic space, time split apart, a wrenching and tearing of the very sinews of reality itself. You can only cover your eyes and shudder before it, before this: "God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God... who for us and for our salvation," as the Nicene Creed puts it, "came down from heaven."

Came down. Only then do we dare uncover our eyes and see what we can see. It is the Resurrection and the Life she holds in her arms. It is the bitterness of death he takes at her breast."

-- Frederick Buechner

(As always, if you like this post, then "share it" or "like" it on Facebook by clicking the box below, so others can see too...)

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A Piece of the "Advent Conspiracy"

I've been fans of the folks at "The Advent Conspiracy" for a couple of years now. Every December, I like to see the kinds of things they're putting out, to encourage folks to buy less and yet give more at Christmas.

If you are confused by how one might buy less yet give more, check out this brief video:



What's great about this kind of "conspiracy" is that it grows best when it grows organically, from the bottom up.

Take what my friend, and fellow Northavener, Vicki Caroline Cheatwood is doing. An old high school friend of hers, Scott Horton, is a military guy stationed in Afghanistan this holiday season and recently contacted her with the following message:

"Many of you have asked what I might want for Christmas in a care package. Thank you for the offer as I am most grateful but, here is an idea. In the season which we focus on GIVING, would you send to me some practical clothing articles, even SOCKS and SHOES which your children have outgrown? I see many victories in this opportunity. I have driven around Afghanistan as winter has begun to set in; children dig through the trash to find things to wrap like newspaper, around their bodies. So thanks for offering goodies, but here's a chance to give and I will deliver the clothes here like Santa Claus. If this interests you, please send me a note and I will provide you my APO address. God bless you - Have a great Thanksgiving and Merry Christmas - Scott"

So, Vicki's been putting out the word, via her Facebook, email,and church friends. She's hosting a "packing party" at her house this Friday night. She'd love for you to donate any gently used clothing that you might have to offer. If you want to be involved, leave a comment below and I will send you info on how to find her house so you can drop stuff by.

Afghanistan is certainly in the news these days, and many people are trying to figure out how they might help. Maybe this is the way *you* will be involved in the "Advent Conspiracy" this year.

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Black Friday

Many thanks to friend and colleague, David Weber, for his great quote about today, "Black Friday."

It's worth meditating on for a while....

"Americans stopped for awhile yesterday to give thanks for what they have, then rose this morning, early, and left the house, praying 'But it's not enough.' "

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Home Repairs

As if real life wasn't busy enough right now, we're having some pretty major home repairs done in the house where we live.

The house is actually a "parsonage," owned by the church. We moved in when I came to Northaven in 2001. I believe the church bought in the early 1990s, and there really haven't been any major repairs done since then....there was new carpet in one room when we moved it, and some nice tile-work in the bathroom...a little paint.

But, over time, stuff mounts up...the carpets are pretty bad now (at least 15 years old...) ...there is some significant wood rot outside...a leak in the roof...and IVY...ivy that grows EVERYWHERE. It was all over the backyard, and had crept its way across the front of the house too.

Uusually, I think ivy *looks* nice, except that this stuff always had poison oak and poison ivy mixed in with the good stuff. Which really caused everyone (me included) to not be too keen on keeping it up. Sensing our human hesitation, the ivy had taken over.

So, the Trustees of the church have decided to do some major upgrading, for which we are deeply grateful. Painting everywhere. Fixing the leaky roof, sagging soffit, rotted wood on the backporch (which probably means a new sliding door in one room, painting and new carpet/flooring throughout. And, finally, a general clean up of the outside.

They've hired Northaven's own Tom Kargas to do the work or, for stuff he can't do, work with contractors to get it done.

Let me say here, Tom is a home repair genius. He's got a great visual sense for things and there are so many little things he notices that we just don't.

(We've known this for years at Northaven, as he is the guy who does the flower each Sunday, and often the one who creates our "visual" look on the chancel area...)

So far, the biggest changes visible are outside. They dug up much of the landscaping that was there, and cleaned up the whole "look" of the front of the house....much simpler and cleaner. (Also new gutters and some drainage ditches to move the water away from the house...)

It wasn't until after they'd taken all the old foliage out that it struck me "Hey...we shoulda taken a "before" picture..."

For better or worse, I suppose that's where Google "Street View" comes in. So, thanks to Google, here's their lastest image which serves as a pretty decent "before" shot:



Note all the ivy and general overgrown junk in front.

Here's what it looks like now:



Here's a flowerbed closeup:





Obviously, the newly planted stuff will grow in and fill out a little. And, next Spring, the grass will grow back where the bushes and ivy were before.

But, we love it. It's sooooo much cleaner and neater.

I really, really wish I'd taken a "before" pictures of the backyard...because it's even *more* dramatic. Alas, Google Street View doesn't take pics of your backyard (actually, now that I think of it, this is a really GOOD thing...)

Tom's also been doing a lot of work inside too. Mostly painting so far inside. He's done all the bedrooms except for the Master Bedroom, and the "study/studio" (where I'm writing from now...). But he's also replaced some fixtures and just done a lot of other little repairs that, as I said, we often miss but are deeply appreciative of.

This has meant that, for the last few weeks, we've been moving crap out of one room and into another...so that he could paint...only to move it back once he was ready to move to the next room. Pretty tedious and tiring. We've just spent the morning putting a lot of stuff back where it goes, and it's looking really great inside. It's nice to have new paint and cleaner, more open, windows everywhere. (especially in winter...)

Obviously, we'll have to do all this again when it's time to do the carpets/flooring.

So, although you probably won't hear me mention it every day, sufficed to say there's a *lot* going on behind the scenes here.

We're VERY grateful to Tom for his creativity and home decor genius, and to the Trustees for being willing to do have all this done.

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Dear Yankee Fans: Yes, we hate you. Yes, we hate your team.

Dear Yankee Fans:

So, you won again. Goody for you.

You do understand that some of us really hate your team, right?

We can even admire the franchise, its history and tradition, and all of what it means to our American cultural heritage. But we still hate the Yankees. And, yes, we hate Yankee fans.

And, no, we're not just "jealous." We genuinely hate you.

I've only been to NYC once as an adult. But on that trip I did go to Yankee Stadium, out of respect for the history and tradition. Saw the Yankees play the Red Sox there (the last series at the old Yankee stadium...). Sat on the 20th row, right behind home plate.

And, with great pride, I wore the Red Sox cap that I'd bought at Fenway Park the week before.



Now, please understand, I'm not that big Red Sox fan. They count as only my second-favorite American League team. In fact, my favorite National League team is the Reds, which means I spent a good bit of childhood rooting *against* the Red Sox.

But I know that the Yankees hate the Red Sox, and so on that July afternoon it gave me GREAT pleasure to be a Red Sox fan.

Today, I've been listening to the Ticket guys talk about their feelings on all this, so what follows sort of mirrors what they are saying...

No, Yankee fans, we're not just jealous.

Oh sure, we definitely are jealous. I mean, you've won 27-freakin' championships. That's something approaching one out of every four. We're totally jealous.

But that's not why we hate you.

We hate you because last night, and today, both you and the national media are acting like there's been some long and unbearable "Yankee-drought" that last night rectified. I heard players and pundits alike saying this.

"It's been nine long years..."

"At long last the wait is over..."

Boo Hoo.

You want to know what a long time to wait is? How about "NEVER?" Can I interest you in "never?"

As a Ranger fan, I think I can safely argue that "never" is slightly longer than nine years. "Never" is definitely longer than one out of every four championships.

So...
...when you bloviate on and on about how "long" it's been...
...about what a "drought" it's been...

THAT, Yankee fans, is why we hate you.

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The Light Dawns Slowly

Important relearned life lesson during the past few weeks:

I am not in control.

I know this. I really do. I teach/preach/sing it all the time. I celebrate with others when they re-discover it too. But it seems to me that the most important life lessons get learned and relearned. We have short memories. The light comes on, then flickers off again. Or, sometimes the light just dawns slowly.

Speaking of lights, the thing that helped me relearn this important life-lesson were some lights. Sanctuary lights, to be specific. You see, back in late May (on Pentecost Sunday to be exact) the main lights in our sanctuary burned up. At least one of them caught fire and shed a small piece of burning plastic that drifted 50-plus feet down, onto the head of a worshipper.

It was pretty spectacular.

And, yes, it's true: tongues of real fire fell on the heads of Northaven members during Pentecost Sunday worship.

Just sayin'

Anyway, I missed most of it as it happened during the postlude and I was already out in the hall. But Mary Clair came running out of the sanctuary, screaming "Call 911!"

I thought somebody must've fainted or gotten sick, so I went back in to find everybody just kind of staring quizzically up at the ceiling. No one was injured and a quick flick of the switches insured that none of the remaining lights would sizzle out in similar fashion. (btw: I have mused a bit at how everybody just stood there, staring up, seemingly unworried about the potential of additional burning debris...)

There's a back story here too: This is the third time in three years that these lights --despite being installed in complete accordance with the manufacturer's specifications-- have burned out. Clearly, it's an issue. So, we didn't rush to fix them right away. At least we didn't rush to fix them *back* the same way. (Fool me once...won't get fooled again...)

So, we spent much of the summer making due without lights that are now affectionately known as "The Ring of Fire." Which wasn't bad since the Sun is so high in the sky and stays up wonderfully late. But as September shadows started to grow, we began to get antsy about it. OK, I began to get antsy about it. I knew that there would come a time when natural light wasn't gonna get us by. Even more to to the point, that there'd be a time when the Sun would literally set on some evening events.

Sure enough, on one particular September Sunday, it was cloudy and rainy and it was really really dark in the sanctuary.

So, replacement parts were ordered. An idea was formulated to "hard wire" each light fixture. (They'd been on tracks up that point...)

The goal was to get them in before a major event early the next month: The "Second Monday Series" with Monsignor Don Fisher. It was scheduled to meet on Thursday, October 1st. (Don't ask...)

The parts for the lights finally came in on the Monday of that week, a week that our building manager, Chuck Cummings, was scheduled to be off. Nevertheless, the work needed to be done. And, the installers told us that it would probably take two days of work.

What could possible go wrong?

It's really quite a spectacular thing to see the lights being worked on, btw. Here's a pic or two:





They are so high up in the sky that it takes a huge crane, which literally drives in through our double doors, to get up there to them.

Anyway, work began Monday on the two-day job. But the two-day job turned into two-and-a-half. As you can see from the pics, there are eight sections of lights. By noon Wednesday, only TWO of the eight were done!

Yikes. Anybody can do the math on that and see we're not gonna make this deadline. We might not even have lights for Sunday at that rate!

So, we made alternate plans, just like John Lennon said. We reset the big meeting room upstairs full of chairs, and I called Bob Stewart, our layperson in charge in this program, to break the bad news. We'd probably have to move upstairs and that probably would mean not enough chairs for the 200 or so folks we expected might come. Bob was disappointed, as you might imagine. I was too. I mean one bad experience like this could kill a whole program, right?

Still, we were ready with Plan B.

Then, by noon Thursday, things looked like they were turning around. Suddenly, the workers had surged ahead and SIX of the eight light-poles were finished. Wow. That changed everything. It meant that there was every chance we could get this done in time for the event that night. And if we could move back in the sanctuary that would be clearly preferred.

So, I jumped up into the ceiling myself, to readjust the performance lights. You see, in addition to the "Ring of Fire," the sanctuary has some robotic and "Lekko" lights that normally are pointed at the chancel area, choir, organ, etc. (Think mood lighting).

During our months sans the Ring of Fire, we'd moved them around to provide light for worshippers. Which is really not a great idea, since all they really do is blast stage lighting into the eyes of people who are not used to it.

But, I knew that really we probably needed to readjust those lights too. As Chuck was off, and other volunteers who have moved them before have literally themselves moved to Arkansas, I got up there and got busy.

Well, after about an hour and half of that, I was almost done. But just then, I gashed my knee. Pretty spectacularly too. Bent down and cut a nice seam down the middle of it on a metal junction box that I just didn't see. So, I climbed down out of the ceiling and told everybody that I had to go home to fix it up. (Yes, it can be told now, I probably should have gotten stitches...)

As I left, I looked up and the workers were still working on those last two light poles. It appeared they'd gotten nowhere in the past two hours. It didn't seem to me that there was any way these lights were getting done. I mean, not only did they have to finish and re-aim the lights, but they had to drive those big cranes out, sweep the floors and reset all the chairs.

So, as I bled across the floors, walking dejectedly to my car, I thought "What a waste...we're not going to make it."

Even worse, I'm not going to be able to be there to help. I literally can't help because I'm too hurt.

I got my knee bandaged, change my clothes and make it back to the about 5 pm. And much to my shock, the cranes were gone, the floor was swept, and the lights are ON! Wow! What an amazing recovery.

I gazed up at the lights for the first time in several months, filled with the satisfaction that a crisis has been averted through hard work, planning and dogged determination. It all worked out because WE worked hard it. My cut knee was worth the sacrifice!

So, I go into my office for a scheduled 5:30 meeting with some folks. And somewhere around 6 pm, a HUGE thunderstorm rolls in. I mean HUGE. Suddenly, there's a massive lightening strike...probably a quarter mile away. And....all the power goes out in the building! All of it. Total darkness.

So now, not only do we not have lights in the sanctuary, we don't have AC, a sound system, or a way to see in the bathroom. 200 people coming in t-minus 55 minutes and counting, and probably on their way at that moment. Oncor will only say that the power will be out until at least 9 pm, well after we're scheduled to be done.

Good Lord.

What a demoralizing turn of events. All our hard work and planning for naught.

So, we pull out every known candle in the building (and we do have a few...) and put them in the sanctuary.

When Monsignor Fisher arrives, about 20 minutes ahead of the event, we tell him the situation and he laughs and responds quite graciously.

He says, "You know what will happen? Those lights will come back on at just the right moment. I'll be saying something, or you'll be saying something and at just the right moment they will come back on."

I said, "Well, thank you for your understanding attitude," and then I turned to hand an altar candle to a woman so she could light her way to the bathroom. (She was Catholic and I think that mortified her a little, btw...)

Actually, there by the candle-light, the sanctuary looked quite lovely. I mean, the topic *was* contemplative practices. Maybe nobody would notice?

;)

At a little after 7 pm, I got up to make a welcome and apology to the crowd. I felt really defeated, but tried not to let on. We'd worked so hard to get the room ready. I'd sacrificed with my literal blood and sweat. At least the lights were off so nobody would see my knee bleeding through my pants.

Then Bob Stewart got up to introduce the Monsignor. It's so dark, he can't even see his written notes.

Bob finishes with a flourish and says, "So, would you please welcome Father Don Fisher."

And right as Don Fisher takes the center stage, with the applause still ongoing, the lights came on! As if on cue. Stephen Spielberg could not have timed it better.

Peals of applause turn into laughter.

Then, everyone stops laughing and begins to settle in. Monsignor Fisher picks up the mic and simply moves on as if nothing at all strange had happened.

I, however, am at the back of the room, still laughing so hard that I almost have to excuse myself. Between giggles, I snap this Treo picture of Monsignor Fisher:



I am pretty sure it's blurry because of my chuckling.

I am laughing at myself.

I am laughing at my own hubris that believed that whether or not the lights came on had anything to do with me, or were any kind of reflection on me and my ministry. I am laughing at my bleeding knee, in the way I assume Jacob eventually laughed at his night of angel-wrestling.

I am laughing at how hard I was trying to be "in control," and how futile that always is.

I know this. I really do. But, probably like many of you, I forget. I expect to be able to work hard and be rewarded --perhaps even lauded-- for my efforts. I expect accolades for going the extra mile.

Which reminds me of a great line that Len Sweet posted to Facebook just two days ago, apparently a Jewish proverb:

“Expecting world to treat you fairly because you're good person is like expecting a bull not to charge because you're vegetarian.”

Ho man. That'll preach.

It's true. We get caught up in our expectations. Then our expectations create worry and work in us, to the point that we forget to trust in the Spirit, forget that we are *not* in charge.

One of my favorite learnings from Jim Finley has been this little way to enter into a time of meditation. It's a way to "center down" beneath and beyond our thoughts. He encourages us to say these lines and, in between, breath in and out deeply, making sure to be conscious of your breathing:

"Be still and know I am God..."
(breath)

"Be still and know I am..."
(breath)

"Be still and I know..."
(breath)

"Be still..."
(breath)

"Be..."

Whenever I do this exercise, I find myself immediately centered back down into myself, into a deeply spiritual place. It's a powerful reminder, again, that I am me, that I am not you, and that I am not God. I am not all-powerful.

I am me. God is God. I am. God is. And this is good.

It's the kind of spiritual truth we all need to experience, and that we all probably need to experience more often than we usually do.

Every now and then, if we're lucky, the truth that we are not in control is a light that dawns on us, whether or not the real lights ever do.

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Me Braun @ Opening Bell

Wanted to be sure everybody heard about Meg Braun's show tomorrow night at Opening Bell in Dallas.

I met Meg this May at Kerrville, when she not only became a "Kerrvert," but was also firmly initiated into the Camp Nashbill family. (Those of you for whom that last sentence made no sense, just smile and nod...)

Meg's been on a short tour of Texas, making stops in Austin and here.

She's got a CD called "Tomboy Princess," and is a mighty fine songwriter. Here's her website.

Here are the details:

Wednesday, October 14th, 2009
7:00pm
Opening Bell Coffee
1409 South Lamar, Basement #012
Dallas, TX 75215

Opening Bell, formerly known as Standard and Pours (can I get sued for that?!) is a great venue in the Southside area. Hope you'll plan now to come out and see Meg!

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Camp Nashbill Virtual Song Circle

Many of us love a good song circle. Among the circles we love the most are the song circles at "Camp Nashbill" at the Kerrville Folk Fest.



In the belief that "it can be this way always," below you will be our growing attempt at a "virtual song circle," uploaded songs from our Camp Nashbill friends.

The playlist should include songs contributed by our many members and friends. If you upload your own, please let us know and we'll add it.





Songs from:
Karyn Oliver
Jaime Michaels
Eric Folkerth
Meg Braun

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$70,000

Connections debuted our new show last night, the SuperHits of the 70s.

It was a fantastic night. We had over 350 persons in attendance and, as they say, a good time was had by all.

Even with all the planning and forethought that goes into a show like this, we never really know how it'll turn out until we're in front of an audience. It was so great to be in front of our "host church" and to have them be so appreciative.

This show was more of a group effort than ever. There were more band members finding music, and writing charts. More singers singing lead. Quite a few women singing lead.

And, best of all, we can now announce that we've officially gone over the $70,000 mark in funds raised all time.

Check out the most current graph:



If you missed this show, take heart. We'll be going this one a lot in the first half of 2010. And if that's too long to wait, then we can help you with that too.

We're doing it again on October 24th. Details here.

Thanks again, everybody.

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"Love In Time," A Final Gift from Dan Fogelberg

Most of you who know my musical tastes know the hallowed, and unabashed, place that Dan Fogelberg holds in my heart.

Dan died far too young. To this day, many times when I'm listening to his music, it's hard for me to fathom that he's been gone for almost two years now.

And even now, in ways that embarrass me to admit, I can find myself weepy at his loss. I've covered this before. I can't explain it, except to acknowledge what that means for the obvious place his music holds in my musical DNA and personal history.

When any musician dies, we tend to say that their music lives on after them. But in Dan Fogelberg's case, his music now speaks beyond death itself.

Today, more than a year and a half after his death, comes a surprising new gift: a studio CD.

It's titled "Love in Time," and features eleven new tracks recorded at Dan's Mountain Bird Studio. You can get it online here. Here's the link to the iTunes store.

In 2006, Dan was in the midst of collecting material for a "live" CD. (From what I can tell, that disk never materialized). But once he got the diagnosis of prostate cancer, he went to work collecting and recording new studio cuts instead. He put them on a master tape, placed them in a safety deposit box, and wrote a note to his wife requesting they be released upon his death.

(This, of course, causes me wonder if --despite his public statements about how he expected to beat the disease-- perhaps he knew early on how serious his situation was?)

"Love in Time" was actually released digitally on Dan's birthday, back in August, so I've been listening to a copy the past few weeks. What a gift of love from an artist who loved his craft and understood we'd all love to hear from him one last time.

It's classic Fogelberg. As with many of his CDs, he played most of the instruments himself. OK, he played ALL the instruments! He also provides photography and drawings for the packaging. Again, a common thing for his other projects, since he was an accomplished painter and photographer too.

As I think I've mentioned before, this is one of the things that really attracted me to Fogelberg initially...that even in his prime, when you held a new Fogelberg record in your hand, you knew it was a gift that was "all him" (songwriting, instrumentation, art work, production....) from start to finish.

"Love in Time" contains a nice cross-section of styles that have always been a part of Dan's musical DNA. The title track starts off the disk, with lyrics that caught my attention:

"The winds of fortune rarely grace
Those who try to force the pace
And will not see
That love can’t be had for free

Those who try to place a price on
The value of their sacrifice
Will suffer long
Theirs is the saddest sound"

A powerful message from somebody who surely understood life's sufferings at the very moment he recorded the song.

"Soft Music," which Dan didn't write, features a nice interlude that will remind you of the best of Dan's lush production (ala: Netherlands, Wild Places, etc...) through the years.

As you might expect, there are ballads such "Sometimes a Song," which Dan recorded for his wife and was released as a single last year. It's raised quite a bit of money for prostate cancer research.

There's a nice acoustic blues tune, "Nature of the Game." If you ever saw Dan live, you'll recall how great he was one the acoustic slide. This is probably the best example of his blues playing in his released catalogue.

"Come to the Harbor" has a nice Beatles-ish feel to it (think: Norwegian Wood), and lyrics that evoke his love for the coast of Maine. I couldn't help but think of this story as I heard it.

Perhaps my favorite song on the CD is the also shortest (clocking in at just 2:52). "So Many Changes" again features a powerful message for somebody walking his road:

"Do you think that it’s wise
To be cursing the cloudy skies
Don’t come to me with your cries
When the sun’s shining in your eyes"

Some really tasty and bright acoustic guitar work on this one too. (Been picking it out over the weekend...)

"Days To Come" will remind fans of the themes of loss and change that run through "The Innocent Age"

"Tell me true do you still believe the prophets

That you found among the clouds of youthful skies

Broken dreams line your face like stormy weather

But you can’t stay dry forever in the rain
The truth should now be plain

You can’t go back again."

But for the hardcore Danfan, it's the final track that will get you. It's a Neil Young song called "Birds," and the message is clear enough:

"When you see me fly away without you
Shadow on the things you know
Feathers fall around you
And show you the way to go
It’s over....it’s over."

That would be enough. But there's a final chord. A final chord that I won't give away here.

Sufficed to say, it brings things "full circle" for anybody who has loved Dan's music from its beginning. I don't know whether it's a touch he intended, or whether it was added later on.

Where ever it came from, may I just say "thank you."

It moved me to tears. Again, not giving away the farm here; just get a copy and give it a listen. If you're a longterm Danfan, you won't be able to miss the musical homage that closes this last song, and closes a circle on his entire life and work in music.

Thanks to Jean Fogelberg for shepherding this CD to its completion. Thanks to all those who worked to make it happen.

And most of all thanks to Dan who, throughout a career that created so many memories for so many of us, has given us one final and generous gift.

(As always, if you like this post, then "like" this on Facebook by clicking the box below, so others can see too...)

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Apology Still Needed

Let me first say that I still have not seen President Obama's speech to our nation tonight. We're decided to make it a "homework night" around here, so the television is off.

However, I have already seen one clip from the speech, involving the unbecoming behavior of Representative Joe Wilson of South Carolina.

Rep. Wilson heckled President Obama in the middle of his speech, and specifically at the moment when Obama was promising that healthcare reform will not cover illegal immigrants. He yelled out that President Obama is a liar.

Before I get into his behavior and the apology he still owes the nation, I am gong to pretend for a moment that the question his outburst begs is one that needs answering.

During the entire month of August, the blogosphere has been burning up with the allegation that President Obama does support covering illegal immigrants, despite his repeated denials on this point.

Some say they do not believe President Obama because they do not trust him.

Others say they do not believe President Obama because of a report from a committee related to Congress which has pointed out linquistic inconsistencies in one of the three bills working its way through the House.

Best I can tell, this linguistic inconsistency, in one of three possible House bills, is the only tangible evidence that anyone can point to for this claim that illegal immigrants will be "covered" under healthcare reform. What the committee actually found is that it *might* leave the door open to illegal immigrants to get healthcare.

Not *will.*

Might.

But as you will see in a moment, it's a moot point. Because after Rep. Wilson's stunning breach of etiquette tonight, I used the miracle of "The Google," and in about ten seconds was downloading a copy of HB 3200, the current bill from the House Ways and Means Committee.

You can download it too. Knock yourself out here.

Then after you're done, scroll down to page 143. Or, alternatively, search the file for the word "alien."

If you're too hurried to do either of those, let me just cite Section 246, lines 3-7:

3 SEC. 246. NO FEDERAL PAYMENT FOR UNDOCUMENTED ALIENS.
"Nothing in this subtitle shall allow Federal payments for affordability credits on behalf of individuals who are not lawfully present in the United States."

So, before we go any further, I want to ask all those who might believe in Rep. Wilson's claim this question:

Do you still believe there is any legitimate reason, beyond paranoia, to call President Obama a "liar" on this issue?

The facts are these:

1) There is no final bill yet. Everything (yes, including this language) is still being negotiated.
2) I have just provided proof that at least one of the three House bill explicitly rejects providing coverage to illegal immigrants.
3) President Barack Obama has repeatedly promised (including tonight) that the final bill will not allow coverage for illegal immigrants.

With those three facts before us, is there any credible reason to call President Obama a "liar" on this issue?

You see, even if one investigates the alleged "lie" behind Rep. Wilson's outburst, we find there is no factual basis for claiming that President Obama has lied.

Which bring us to the outburst itself...

As just about everyone on the left and right have said tonight, this outburst was totally unacceptable from a member of Congress. Many thanks to Senator John McCain for courageously calling on him to apologize and to do so quickly. And, from all accounts, he did apologize to President Obama earlier tonight.

But his apology remains incomplete because his offense was not simply to President Obama, but to all Americans.

Rep. Wilson's behavior might be acceptable at in the British Parliament. It might be acceptable on the Jerry Springer Show. We might even (and apparently do) tolerate it in "Town Hall" meetings. But that kind of outburst has no place during an address to Congress by the President of the United States.

Rep. Wilson owes us all an apology.

Not only does he appear to be wrong on the facts, he is most certainly wrong in his personal conduct, and should immediately revise and extend his apology to include the entire nation.

I decried the tone of rhetoric in our society right now sometime back in another blog entry.

In my wildest imagination, I never would have guessed we'd be decrying that same socially unacceptable behavior on the floor of Congress!!!

Rep. Wilson's behavior in no way besmirches the reputation of the vast majority of good Republicans in government.

Instead, until he extends and broadens his apology, his behavior besmirches us all.

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All the Good We Can: A Sermon on Healthcare

Sunday's sermon seems to be getting a lot of positive comment from folks in various quarters. When that happens, I tend to post it to my personal blog, in the hopes that anybody else who might find it helpful can easily find it.

It's a sermon about healthcare. As you can't help but know, this issue pervades our society right now. This is the second time I've preached on this timely issue in recent months.

I am not a politician or social scientist, but I am a preacher, among other things; and so at the encouragement of folks in our congregation, I preached this sermon about healthcare last Sunday:





If you can't see the player on this page, click here to go to the file.

In the sermon, I mention the United Methodist view on healthcare. The quote I cite comes from the 2008 Discipline, and is a part of the United Methodist Church's official position on healthcare, adopted by the 2008 General Conference. (For those outside our denomination who might not know, the General Conference is the only group authorized to speak on behalf of the whole church...)

In case anybody's interested, here is the excerpt I cited:

"Providing the care needed to maintain health, prevent disease, and restore health after injury or illness is a responsibility each person owes others and government owes all, a responsibility government ignores at its peril..health care is best funded through the government's ability to tax each person equitably and directly fund the provider entities...We believe it is a governmental responsibility to provide all citizens with health care."
-- The General Conference of the United Methodist Church, Paragraph 162 of the 2008 Book of Discipline

Following up on this statement from the Discipline, the General Board of Church in Society has put together this website which also has important information about healthcare and healthcare reform. You might also find it helpful.

Finally, several folks have asked about the quote from Wesley. It's a good one too, and here it is:

"Do all the good you can,
By all the means you can,
In all the ways you can,
In all the places you can,
At all the times you can,
To all the people you can,
As long as ever you can."

That quote is a part of my ever-growing number of "Credo-Bytes."

As always, you're free to disregard a Methodist preacher's point of view. But I hope some might find it helpful as they sort through their own views on this important issue.

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Senator Kennedy's Letter to Pope Benedict

I haven't written much about the death of Senator Ted Kennedy. Today was his funeral in Boston and graveside service at Arlington Cemetery. We had a busy personal day with a whole series of activities that kept us away from the television for most of it.

But one moment we happened to see really captured my attention. It was the text of a letter Ted Kennedy wrote to Pope Benedict, just a few weeks before his death. Personally delivered by President Obama during his early-July audience with the Pope, it was read at the graveside by Cardinal McCarrick.

It seems worth passing along, precisely because of its honest and poignant reflection on life, death, politics, faith, and the desire of a dying man for some kind of closure.

You might like reading it too. The full text of Cardinal McCarrick's remarks are here. The portions of the letter he read are below.

To Pope Benedict XVI, from Senator Ted Kennedy:

"Most Holy Father, I asked President Obama to personally hand deliver this letter to you. As a man of deep faith himself, he understands how important my Roman Catholic faith is to me, and I am so deeply grateful to him.

"I hope this letter finds you in good health. I pray that you have all of God’s blessings as you lead our church and inspire our world during these challenging times.

"I am writing with deep humility to ask that you pray for me as my own health declines. I was diagnosed with brain cancer more than a year ago, and although I continue treatment, the disease is taking its toll on me. I am 77 years old, and preparing for the next passage of life.

"I have been blessed to be a part of a wonderful family, and both of my parents, particularly my mother, kept our Catholic faith at the center of our lives. That gift of faith has sustained, and nurtured, and provided solace to me in the darkest hours. I know that I have been an imperfect human being, but with the help of my faith, I have tried to right my path.

"I want you to know, Your Holiness, that in my nearly 50 years of elective office, I have done my best to champion the rights of the poor, and open doors of economic opportunity. I’ve worked to welcome the immigrant, to fight discrimination and expand access to health care and education. I have opposed the death penalty and fought to end war. Those are the issues that have motivated me and have been the focus of my work as a United States senator.

"I also want you to know that, even though I am ill, I am committed to do everything I can to achieve access to health care for everyone in my country. This has been the political cause of my life. I believe in a conscience protection for Catholics in the health field and I will continue to advocate for it as my colleagues in the senate and I work to develop an overall national health policy that guarantees health care for everyone.

"I have always tried to be a faithful Catholic, Your Holiness, and though I have fallen short through human failings, I have never failed to believe and respect the fundamental teachings of my faith. I continue to pray for God’s blessings, on you and on our church, and would be most thankful for your prayers for me."

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Health Care Blog

Since Health Care is in the news, and since some folks who commented on my blog yesterday seem hungry for a serious discussion of the issues, I remembered a blog I wrote last year on Health Care and the Federal Government.

You can find it here.

Why it took me two months of current national health care debate to remember this, I have no idea. But I just went back and re-read it, and it still reflects much of my thoughts and feelings on both the role of government and the issue of health care.

Actually, the first part of the blog is about the role of the Federal Government. Part of why our nation doesn't agree about the "solution" for Health Care, is that we no longer have basic agreement as to the role of the Federal Government.

As the blog suggests, for over forty years, we've lived with political leadership who are constantly denigrating the role of the government and even the work of decent, ordinary government workers. This cynical and fatalistic view, espoused best by Ronald Reagan's short quip that "government is the problem," must be confronted and overcome.

Without that basic agreement --that government has at least *some* positive role to play in society-- there can be no real health care "debate."

I put forward my thoughts on the issue, using my faith as the compass for my moral views.

The second part of the essay is from an ER doctor, and is a quite good description of what is wrong with health care today.

Hope you find it helpful.

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It Wasn't That Long Ago

Set aside your beliefs about health care for a moment.

Friends, things are getting out of hand with respect to respect for the President. Things are getting out of hand with respect to the things people are saying about Barack Obama. Things are getting out of hand with respect to their actions.

I have written about this before, now and then, and I write about it again today because I am genuinely concerned. And, as a pastor who believes in peace and nonviolence, as Jesus did, I am imploring everyone to do anything in their power to change the situation.

First, it was the presidential campaign and the outrageous claims that Barack Obama was a foreigner and a Muslim.

Remember that?
Remember how talk show hosts on the right wing fanned those flames?
Remember how Hillary Clinton did too? (when she answered the question "Is Barack Obama a Muslim?" with "Not that I know of.")
Remember how, as the presidential campaign went further into the Fall, the "Town Hall" the McCain/Palin campaign fanned the flames of such paranoia and hate? Remember how it boiled over outside town halls?

Here's a reminder, a short clip of the scene outside a McCain/Palin townhall in Denver Colorado last Fall:



Note the little girl, probably very near my own daughter's age, who pantomimes monkey gestures, in clear reference to an Obama cut-out that someone off camera is holding. She later walks by the cutout, saying "Look...the monkey from Tarzan!"
What kind of parent allows that?!

Watch how another man punches the cut out. Watch how others scream: "Communist!" "Terrorist!" "Where's his turban?" and "He's got a rag on his head!" and finally "God may not be on my side, but Satan is on your side."

Maybe you didn't see this video when if first came out.

But, friends, it wasn't that long ago.

Remember when finally John McCain had the courage to stand up at one of these meetings and say "no more?"
Here is the video of McCain showing real courage:



Friends, it wasn't that long ago.

Then, it was how people didn't believe that Obama was an American.

Remember that?
Remember how right wing talk shows again fanned the flames, including nationally syndicated shows, like Lou Dobbs and Glenn Beck?
Remember how members of congress, even when shown copies of his legitimate birth certificate, would not admit on national television that he was a citizen?

It culminated just a little more than two weeks ago, when Republican members of congress were attacked by angry constituents, waving their own birth certificates and claiming Obama was not a citizen. Here's the video, in case you've forgotten:



It wasn't that long ago.

Then, it was the lie that Obama wants to kill old people. This was coupled, of course, by outright vitriolic and rude reactions in town hall after town hall meeting. Watch Sean Hannity gleefully "go to the tape" to show the reaction against health care at one town hall:



Note how, nowhere does he reject the rude, angry, heckling behavior. Even if he opposes health care reform, one would expect him to reject that kind of behavior.

It wasn't that long ago.

Now? Yesterday? In the wake of all this vitriol spewed at Obama *personally,* we read that no less that TWELVE armed citizens brought guns to a town hall meeting featuring the President yesterday.

Watch footage from Chris Matthews interviewing a Rep. Gringrey (Rep) about why folks are bringing their guns:



A few observations:

1) These folks are wearing their guns (and even semi-automatic weapons) openly. They are TRYING to be provocative, and TRYING to make a statement. I know and respect gun owners greatly. And I know that many of the gun owners I know would be horrified to see these men waving their firearms around in public.

2) Matthew's question is salient: Why bring a firearm to a town hall with the President? You're not going to be able to bring it in. I can tell you from watching presidential motorcades in previous times, the President is the most heavily guarded human on the planet. HE doesn't need the protection. Why do it?

When you string all the previous together, the only reason I can see is that somebody is attempting to provoke the lunatic fringe. Talk Radio, certain elected officials, and many other silent co-conspirators, are attempting to speak code to the lunatic fringe. They are secretly hopeful that somebody WILL use their gun, and WILL kill President Obama.

Don't believe me? Remember this from Fox News some months back:



Again, notice how the host does not immediately challenge Liz Trotta for saying this highly offensive joke. (Full disclosure: she did later apologize. on air...)

Remember that?

It wasn't that long ago.

Don't believe me? Might you believe Frank Schaeffer? He is the son of one of America's most prominent fundamentalist ministers. He absolutely believes that all of this mounts up to a "coded message." Take a look:



Why am I bringing this up?

Because if there IS a "coded message" here, the only way to speak against it is to speak up loudly and forcefully against it. Because I've been saying this over and over again.

Because some of us remember John Kennedy. Members of the church I serve remember the aftermath of the Kennedy assassination and how the pastor of Northaven at the time, Bill Holmes, preached a sermon decrying the culture that pervaded Dallas at the time. He cited tangible examples of how Dallas had become an intolerant place and suggested that, while Dallas didn't "kill Kennedy," the culpability for that intolerant society did rest on all who lived here then.

For this, he got death threats and had to go into hiding. No kidding.

BTW, sort of proves the point of his "Dallas in an intolerant city" claim, doncha think?

Some folks I see regularly remember that time. And they see eerie and frightening parallels to what's happening around America right now. Step back from the past year, and ask yourself where this is all going. Where, if not directly to an assassination attempt, or militant uprising, does anybody think this is going?

Enough is enough.

Once again, as I have before, I call on all persons to stop the hate-mongering. If somebody brings a side arm to a Presidential rally, denounce it. If somebody calls the President a Nazi, a Socialist, a Muslim, a Foreigner, a Monkey, denounce it. If somebody lies about the facts of a policy decision (such as the lie about "Death Panels") denounce it. If somebody refuses to stop telling those lies on national media: boycott them. If somebody seems to condone violence against the President, or behaviors that could lead others to take up violence, reject them.

Because this is getting out of hand. Seriously.

And some of us remember that in another time when conservatives could not control their lunatic fringe, a lone crazy --acting on his own, but living in the stew of cultural venom that pervaded this city as the time-- killed an American president right here in our city.

It wasn't that long ago.

(As always, if you like this post, then "like it"  or "share it" on Facebook by clicking the box below, or send it to your friends...so others can see too...and leave a comment...EF)  
 

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Disorganization: My Savior

While I was in Colorado on vacation last week, I stumbled on this short Facebook essay by Sofia Echegaray. There was something about it I found absolutely lovely; something about that beautiful combination of creative accident, preparation, and (as Sofia says here) paying attention.
As they say in Zen, "Don't just do something, stand there."

There's something to taking "time off" and "time away" that sometimes can make all the difference. For example, why, when you're learning a new song, can you struggle one night and then find it's a breeze the next morning? (Actually, Radio Lab answered this sometime back. I'll see if I can find it...)

We all desperately need to not just be in fifth gear all the time. Sometimes, we need to coast. Sometimes, we need to turn off the engine entirely.

Anyway, something about being in Colorado, spending a week away from TV, and most of a week offline, really touched me in these words.

So, what follows is Sofia's essay. Thanks to her for writing it!

EF


Disorganization: My Savior
by Sofia Echegaray
(Borrowed from this original source)

I was all set to write a post praising the heroes who helped to make my treatment and health possible: Louis Pasteur, one of the fathers of germ theory and vaccines, and Alexander Fleming, who first isolated penicillin. People often wistfully long for the olden days, but as someone who has had scarlet fever, strep throat, impacted wisdom teeth, and lyme disease (and who has *not* had: whooping cough, measles, mumps, polio, etc.), I am thrilled to be living in the age of germ theory, antibiotics, novocaine, and childhood vaccinations.

At any rate: I was going to write about these Great Geniuses who helped to save my bacon. But, as much as I owe to them, I seem to owe as much to the August vacation. Louis Pasteur went away for vacation in August, told his assistant to infect some chickens with cholera, his assistant flaked out and went on vacation too, and a month later they infected the chickens with the now-decrepit bacteria. The chickens didn't die: that's how they figured out that a weakened form of bacteria could provide immunity against the real thing.

Decades later, Alexander Fleming went away on his August vacation. When he returned, he saw that one of his staph samples had been contaminated with some sort of fungus, and the fungus had killed the staph. From this, and from other peoples' research: penicillin.

These are both filed under the heading "Happy Accident," and it appears that much of the world's progress in science, arts and so forth have happened because something somewhere went a little screwy. Actually, it's a combination of A) something going a little screwy and B) someone being alert enough to recognize an opportunity. ("Chance favors the prepared mind," is the well-known phrase.)

Another example of this: the chocolate chip cookie. Not a lifesaving miracle drug, but certainly next in line for praise and adulation. According to legend, Ruth Wakefield invented the chocolate chip cookie by accident -- she had thought the chips would melt completely and make chocolate cookies. Because of her botched experiment, we are all happier people.

Anyways: All Hail the discoveries of the world .... and August vacations...and screwing things up a little from time to time!

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"Guess He'd Rather Be In Colorado" (Vacation Blog)

Note: The following is a running commentary about our vacation to Colorado. Dennise has this album of pics up on Facebook. Many of the shots posted here come from there.....EF





July 30th
With some guilt feelings right at the surface, and a lot of major things still unresolved at home, we have left on our vacation anyway. Got the house sitter squared away, and left Dallas late this afternoon in the hopes of getting to Estes Park Saturday by check-in time.

I find that there is never a good time to go on vacation, and that every time I go, I spend the first part of my time away lamenting all the things undone and generally living with my heart in two places.

This time, there's an awful big pile of stuff going on...

Dennise's Dad had heart stint surgery this morning in Irving. It seemed to go well. We stayed through early afternoon, and the prognosis appears to be good. My father-in-law is, thus far in his life, the Energizer Bunny of heart attacks. Last weekend was, by all counts, number six in twenty years.

We of course know that there is a very serious side to all this. But he's in good spirits, and we're hopeful the recovery will go well.

Meanwhile, Mary Clair will have gall bladder surgery tomorrow, and I have significant guilt about leaving with that pending too. Plus, she's in Fort Worth, which makes it challenging for folks to visit as easily. We went by to see her on our way West this afternoon. I will check on this quite a bit tomorrow while we travel.

Also still checking on getting the AC and other issues at the log house fixed. What a mess this has been. More phone calls tomorrow from the road, and some reliance on Dad to help us coordinate things while we're gone. Jeez...

But, with all this hanging, we left anyway. We really need to get away. There's other news we've been dealing with that we're only now able to say: Dennise's Mom, Mary, has been diagnosed with breast cancer. This is old enough news that she's already had a lumpectomy and is getting chemo during these past few weeks.

It took her a long time to get comfortable with telling folks about this, so it's been a quiet, unshared burden around the house for some weeks now. But it's public now, so there you go.

Add to this, we're both just pretty tired and really need to spend some time with Maria.

So, we're going.

Hopefully, nothing else major will fall apart while we're gone. (Where's the wood to knock?)

We had an uneventful and looong drive to Amarillo tonight. Got into the hotel about thirty minutes ago.

I tell you, that stretch of road from Wichita Falls to here is a killer. It's like being in the State Fair funhouse...in that room where the walls spin, and as you walk through, you feel like the door on the other end is actually getting farther away.

Maybe it's the unchanging flatness of the landscape. Maybe it's the number of small towns I know absolutely nothing about. Maybe it's just the anticipation of wanting to leave Texas, and being thwarted by the vastness. Whatever it is it's just the worst drive I ever seem to take in our state, with all apologies to everybody who lives around here.

There was, however, a fantastic sunset, which set the clouds on fire for a while. This is always a treat as you drive West. And one benefit of the utter flatness is that you get to savor every last second of a sunset, and enjoy the widest possible angle on the long afterglow.

Then, after this there was, as Jaime Michaels would say, "one spectacular moon." In fact, all night there were low, wispy, fast-moving clouds traveling East, away from us. They shimmered and glowed moonlight like a stained glass window on an escalator to the sky. It was gorgeous, mysterious and a little dangerous looking all at the same time.

Nice mix on the iPod up here. I was especialy thrilled to hear Lyle Lovett, Marvin Gaye, Tom PR, Eric Schwartz all back to back at one point. It was a moment.

So, we're here now.

What will tomorrow bring?
Will things at home seem calmer from distance?
Will they get more complicated?
Will the distance help us gradually relax and enjoy things?
Will Maria remember that this is the town with the "Big Texan" and force us to be chintzy tourists once again?

These are the big questions of life tonight.

Stay tuned....





July 31st
Yes, Maria did remember that Amarillo was the home of "The Big Texan." We ate there, and afterwards all agreed we were a little underwhelmed. The place is great for tourists...what we we doing there?!

This picture was a from a few minutes down the road from Amarillo, in the very highest of the high plains of the Texas panhandle...



That kind of scene always reminds me of a quote from Larry McMurtry about Texas:

"It was the sky that was Texas, the sky that welcomed me back. The land I didn't care for all that much -- it was bleak and monotonous and full of ugly little towns. The sky was what I had been missing, and seeing it again in its morning brightness made me realize suddenly why I hadn't been myself for many months. It had such depth and such spaciousness and such incredible compass, it took so much in and circled one with such a tremendous generous space that it was impossible not to feel more intensely with it above you."

Nice to be reminded about the sky....

BTW, I always forget just how high Amarillo is! By the time you get there, you're already at 2,600 above sea level. Nothing like Colorado or New Mexico, but an impressive little rise over Dallas.

After a few miles more, making it more than eight hours of driving, we were finally out of the state. Immediately, the scene changes, and you start to see the volcanic mesas and wheat-colored fields of New Mexico.

On the recommendation of several Facebook friends, we stopped at Mount Capulin, a pretty stunning volcano on the road between Clayton and Raton. We hiked all the way up, and got some good pics and videos that eventually will make there way here. For today, enjoy this iPhone pic:



We did walk all the way around the volcano's rim, and honestly the mile-long hike kinda kicked our butt a little...the altitude, that is. Hopefully, by the time we're in Estes, we'll be better adjusted.

Beautiful smells among the Pinon and other vegetation.

Back on the road, we found ourselves face with an incredible New Mexico thunderstorm. It was one very powerful cloudburst that we drove through in about 10 minutes....sunshine on both sides, pelting rain, no visibility and tons of lightning right in the midst of it.

The storms was absolutely stunning, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. Here's are a couple shots:






I love being out where you can see the full force of these storms, spanning the horizon. I love the amazing way that storms in the mountains pelt you with rain, and then are gone as quickly as they come.

There were more storms through Colorado, and as we passed Pikes Peak, Dennise got this shot, just at sunset:



Isn't that fantastic?

We stopped for dinner in Pueblo along their riverwalk (I don't know if that's what they call it, it just reminded us of the San Antonio Riverwalk...) and we got here to Denver about 8:30.

Two long days of travel. Time for some sleep.





Aug 1st
We have arrived here at Estes, and checked in to our cabin a the YMCA of the Rockies. One of the discoveries we've made is the cabin doesn't have internet or a TV. Interestingly, we didn't bother to check this out ahead of time, which I interpret as a secret desire to actually be rid of these things for a while.

What this means, in practical terms, is that these entries won't get posted every day. In fact, maybe not even every other day. There is Wifi up at the main lodge here at the YMCA of the Rockies, and when we can we'll get there to post an update. Just the way it is...

We spent about half the day with my Aunt Alice and Uncle John in Denver. They've always lived in and around Denver, but since last I was in Colorado, they've moved out to Arvada. It's closer to their daughter (my cousin) Caroline and her family (Walter and kids). Caroline brought her two very cute kids to breakfast at a local place, and then we all went back to Alice and John's new house for a while. We stayed until just before lunch, and then continued North to Loveland. They lent us a sleeping bag for Maria, since we forgot to bring one for her overnight camp out. Nice to have relatives in Denver.

To my mind, the best way to get to Estes Park is the Loveland route, which takes you through Big Thompson Canyon. This 30-mile journey is one of my most vivid memories of our family trips to Estes Park when I was a kid. I'd be in the back seat (rear-facing) of the station wagon, with my little cassette tape player, playing a mix tape that I'd made just for that part of the journey.

That mix tape was heavy on the John Denver, as you might imagine...."Rocky Mountain High," "Poems, Prayers and Promises," "Sunshine on My Shoulders." And, of course, "Eagle and the Hawk."

In my seventh-grade mind, I imagined that song was probably written about that very canyon. I mean, every now and then you'd see an actual eagle or hawk during the journey.

How cool is that?

Hiking through the Rocky Mountain National Park during those years of the late 1970s, John Denver was always the intentionally-conjured earworm in my brain.

Yes, I totally get how cheesy that is. Yes, I totally get how geeky it is to admit what a big fan I have always been. This is another of those times where my proud answer is "I don't care."

I mean, when you spent your youth actually going to Colorado, seeing the places that surely he had in mind when he wrote some of this music, you can't help but have a special place in your heart for it.

And, I realized something after he died. When I thought back over what he'd meant to me, I realized that it was John Denver ("Rocky Mountain High") who first introduced me to "alternative tunings (Dropped D) years before I learned about them via folks like David Wilcox. That's worth something.

So, I had no mix tape this time. But I did have an iPod playlist. It had all those John Denver songs on it. A bunch of Dan Fogelberg too (Surprised? Wonder where I learned to love him?) But also some friends too....Bill Nash's "Colorado," started us off, and Amilia K. Spicer's "Moving Mountains" was a nicer addition than I could have imagined ahead of time.

None of us actually took any pics of the trip through Big Thompson. We mostly just looked around and enjoyed the ride. But I did find this photoblog, via Google, and it has some nice pics.

We pulled in to the YMCA of the Rockies about 4 pm local time. We're in a cabin called "Ghost Rider," pretty near the center of the camp. It's a very nice cabin...nicer than I remember them being as a kid.

We walked around the grounds after dinner tonight, just to get acclimated a bit. I think I saw Ken Hardt (retired from Perkins) walking through the main lodge, but I couldn't recall his name quick enough to stop him and say "hello."

Late this afternoon, I went back into town to get a few more things on the grocery list, and saw an Elk on the way back! Just meandering across the road....amazing. At about the same time, Dennise and Maria were taking these deer pics just outside our cabin window:



Tomorrow, is probably the day for a first short hike, getting Maria registered for the week, and who knows what else.





Aug 2nd
Wow, what a great day.

We started out by visiting the Estes Park UMC (Dennise's idea, actually...), which is just outside the Fall River entrance to the park. It was a nice service, and they certainly have a great view out the window....the stained glass window here simply a clear-glass view of a huge Ponderosa pine and the mountains beyond. Frankly, I could've just sat there watching that scene, listening to a little music, and called it church.

It was a nice service. We bumped into my friend Debra Hobbs Mason there. She and her family have been up here for three weeks. She says they have a family place up here and they come every year. Like me, she first came up here as a kid too.

We came to church dressed to hike and slipped right into the Rocky Mountain National Park afterwards. Our goal was the Bear Lake area and, in retrospect, it might have actually been quicker to just loop around back to the other park entrance. But, it was a nice drive down through the park.

We stopped off to have lunch at some little unnamed picnic area on the road the Bear Lake area. The goal was Glacier Gorge, and a quick hike up to Alberta Falls. It was short enough to be a nice first hike of the vacation. Check it out here:



We came back at 3 pm to register Maria for the camp for the week. She actually seems excited about perhaps making some friends and going to the camp. It's 8:30 to 3 every day, but she'll skip out on some of it to do stuff with us.

We were pretty beat after that, and rested for a while. I had actually hoped all along that we'd do a late afternoon drive up the Trail Ridge Road, but at about 4 pm that looked to be pretty iffy, since everybody was tired from the hike.

But dinner perked everybody up, and by 7 pm, we were back in the park and headed up Trail Ridge Road.

In the interest of full disclosure, I probably did not fully disclose to Dennise how treacherous the road was. OK "probably" is a little weak. I didn't really make it clear that it was the highest continuous highway in the US. I didn't really mention the steep, hairpin turns, with no guardrail and a vertical drop of several thousand feet. I probably failed to mention how, when you're most of way up, you look down at cars that have that ant-like size you usually only see from an airplane. I also left out how, at the highest point you are 50 percent of the way through the earth's atmosphere.

The point is Dennise doesn't like heights, and she got a little nervous. OK, she got a lot nervous. We made it up to the tundra area, and took these pics up there, before turning back:







This last one is of a Marmet, native to the area up there. The info station up there calls them squirrels that have adapted to the atmosphere. To me, they looked more like the gopher from Caddyshack.

Isn't that a great shot? Marmets hybernate eight to nine months of the year. That's mainly because the "frozen tundra" up there is, literally, frozen tundra for most of the year. It's inaccessible to cars, and most humans and animals for most of that time.

But these Marmets just burrow into a little hybernating cave and shut their systems down for eight months. That means they spend two third of their life asleep.

It also means that when they wake up each summer, they immediately start eating for the next winter. And, finally it means that even though they spend two-thirds of their entire life asleep, they when they are awake, this is their incredible everyday view.



So, I suppose there are tradeoffs to being a Marmet.
(btw, doesn't it look like he's just taking it all in?)

We turned back before the actual Continental Divide. Which was fine with me. It was pretty clear we were as far as we were going to go. Maria loved the whole thing, and I think is ready to go again. In fact, she's said she wants to hike Longs Peak someday.

Was I scared? I mean, I was driving up this crazy road. And it IS high. Yes, it's a little scary. But, jeez, it's so awesome being up there. The mountains are so amazing, and I'd sort of forgotten how much I love being in them.

Here's the thought I had when I got back:

Everyday of life, we are beholden to a million great and small, legitimate and self-created, fears. It's an extraordinary day when you are given the chance to overcome one of them. You should take the chance every chance you get.





Aug 3rd
(As noted in the one of the entries below, we have limited internet access here at the YMCA of the Rockies. But this afternoon, D and I are spending a little time here at the main admin building (where there is wifi) and so I'm posting several days worth of updaates...EF)

This morning, we sent Maria off for the first day of "day camp." As I mentioned, we mistakenly thought she was signed up for the camp where there was one overnight camp out. Turns out, that's not exactly true. But I *think* she'll enjoy it anyway. As we left her, they were all singing some of the same Y-Camp songs we used to sing on our Y Princess camp outs.

And, just now, we saw her little group pass by our cabin. We waved at her goofily, which would have totally mortified me at her age. But she waved back and pointed us out to her whole group. She's a lot kinder to us (as far as we know...) than I was to my parents at that age.

After we dropped her off, Dennise and I took the guided walk around the Y Campgrounds. It was a pretty gentle little hike. During the nature hike, the guide stopped to identify the purple-flowered "thistle" growing up. A sharp-eared kid --no more than three-- chimed in that thistle is "Eeyore's" favorite food.

Which, of course, it is.

He then opined that the small cabin, off in the distance, must be Eeyore's cabin. He then chatted for the rest of the hike about the Winnie the Poo movie where Eyeore builds his cabin.

I love that age when reality and fantasy are all one thing. We miss a lot as adults because we don't walk over that line nearly enough.

Ten minutes later, the guide stopped again to read a few verses from the Psalms. They were nice verses about the splendor of God visible in nature. He concluded by quoting a verse about Jesus coming back in great glory through the clouds.

The adults nodded politely, neither seeming to be unduly inspired or overly offended by the verses.

But as we began to walk again, the sharp-eared kid said to his Dad, "I think Winnie the Poo is coming back right here!!"

Jesus.
Winnie the Poo.

It's all kinda one thing when you're three, I suppose.
-------------------------------

We stopped by the museum here on the YMCA of the Rockies grounds. Despite the fact that we came here a lot when I was a kid, I really don't know much about the place. So, it was nice to fill in some blanks.

Two things caught my attention. They were little biographical facts about some of the "founders" of the Y-Camp. One was about William Sweet, who is considered one of the great founders of the camp. He was not only a great philanthropist and naturalist of the 1920s, but he also had a career in politics, serving a term as governor of Colorado. Sweet was elected in 1922 as a Progressive Democrat. But the plaque in the museum contained a line that jumped out at both Dennise and me. The line said that he lost his second term as governor because of his opposition to the KKK.

The other story was about A.A. Hyde, for whom the camp chapel was named. Hyde made his fortune creating Mentholatum. Yes, that nasty smelling stuff your grandmother used to slap on your father's chest when he was a kid. The guy created what would become a very large and successful company, selling Mentholatum. In fact, the company was owned by his descendants until 1988, when they sold out to a Japanese corporation.

But Hyde's Christian principles would not allow him to keep that fortune. So, he vowed to give away 90 percent of his worth to charity. Much of this giving came in the gifts that established this very camp.

This was, as the museum told it, his way of doing a "reverse tithe."

The tithe, in Christian theology, says that one should give away 10 percent of what one earns to the glory of God. Hyde turned that math on its head. By the time he'd died, he'd managed to give away the vast majority of his "net worth."

I often preach about how poorly Christianity is seen by the world at large today, primarily because the world sees people of faith as hypocritical, and see the story of Christian history as an empty, perhaps even evil, tale of conquest, domination, and subjugation.

Diana Butler Bass calls this "Big C" Christianity: "Christ. Constantine. Christendom. Calvinism. Christian America."

Over and against this, Butler Bass says that there have always been "Great Commandment Christians" who were not swept up in the triumphalism of the dominant cultural faith....folks who lived out their lives by the command to "love your neighbor as yourself."

I would never pretend to believe that every facet of these two white men's lives --whose stories are briefly enshrined in the Y-Camp museum, and who lived about a hundred years ago-- were pure and saintly. I am sure they had their foibles just like the rest of us.

But these two little stories in the museum reminded me of something important. The faith commitment of one caused him to stand up to the hate and intolerance of his day, and he paid a political price for it. The faith commitment of another caused him to give away a great fortune, because he felt that God's call on his life spoke against the accumulation of personal wealth, for wealth's sake.

In both cases, it was apparently their faith that led them to make these moral choices.

As Butler Bass might say, that's a part of the story of Christianity too.





Aug 4th
Hard to tell if Maria is liking camp here or not. (Just now, she told me that she does like it...). She on the "old" end of the age group for this camp, and I think she kinda feels like she's "been there, done that, got the t-shirt." She says that today's camp was a little better than yesterday's. We've told her that she doesn't have to do any of it and that she can just tag along with us if she'd like.

She's convinced that the counselors are botching several key camp songs, such as the seminal "short neck buzzard." I have assured her that this is, in part, because of regional differences in our folk song traditions. Kinda like our accents.

Speaking of folk songs, as we were walking up to get her today, the whole group was singing "This Land is Your Land."

Even if none of those kids know the name Woody Guthrie, it made me smile.

Today, we had a good day of hiking. Dennise and me headed for the Bear Lake area, and the three lakes of "Nymph, Dream, and Emerald."

To get there, we hiked across the border of the YCamp and into the national park. There's a very quick and easy cut through that crosses the river and dumps you out at a bus stop for the National Park shuttle. If you hike it the right way, it's only about a quarter mile from our cabin.

I say IF you hike it the right way. We didn't. I'm not sure either of us is quite sure how it happened, but we ended up on two wrong trails, and before we new it were looping back around the side of the camp the other direction.

(One observation: the trails in the national park are marked quite clearly. The trails in the YCamp? Not so much...)

We probably hiked 3/4 of a mile out of the way and, more disappointingly, down the hill the wrong way twice. Which means, of course, we hiked UP the hill the wrong way twice too. Not fun early in the morning, when you're not sure how long any of this will take.

Eventually, we got our bearings, got on the right shuttles, and ended up at the Bear Lake trailhead, where we'd been headed all along.



Man, was this a great hike. Clear sky. Perfect temperature outside. Despite the early exercise in getting lost, we still managed to get to Emerald Lake by lunchtime.

Here are a few shots.

Nymph Lake area:





Dream Lake area:





I remember Nymph and Dream lakes pretty clearly from previous trips, but if I've been to Emerald Lake I do not recall it. It's such an amazing place, just below the tree line, nestled right in the farthest reaches of that valley, ringed on three sides by stunning peaks of the Continental Divide. Wow. What a great place for that trail to stop.

Here are some shots around Emerald Lake:





We ate lunch at Emerald Lake and just soaked in the scene for a moment. Then, like clockwork, the afternoon clouds started rolling in about 12:30, and sprinkled on us a bit. So we decided to head back down.

It wasn't serious although, back at the Bear Lake Park and Ride area, it looked like it had been raining there pretty good.

The trip down was equally fantastic. Personally I alway love the trip down. I so enjoy the scene that opens up in front of you. And how is it that it can be the same mountain, but when you're coming down, it's like you're seeing everything for the first time.




I suppose when you're on the way down, you've got your head down, and your working hard, panting a little. On the way down, you just let gravity do its job, and enjoy the ride.



We sat/stood next to two pretty interesting people on the shuttles there and back today. On the way in, we stood next to a woman who must be local. She clearly gets into the park a lot, and seemed to know the bus driver by name.

She asked where we were going, and then told us about her planned hike, somewhere off the Glacier Gorge trail head.

Then, she told about some other hike she'd been on once by herself, where she was supposed to hike around a waterfall. But she lost the trail, and wasn't at all sure where she was supposed to go next.

"Just then," she said, "right as I was getting worried, a little girl appeared out of nowhere and said 'The trail's right over here...' she helped me find the trail again."

She paused for a moment and then said, "Personally, I think it was one of those angel things."

On the way back, we stood/sat next to another lone hiker, who was also headed back here to the YCamp. He was, quite likely, in his mid 80s. While most of us half his age were sprawled out on the benches, waiting for our second shuttle back, he sat upright and chatted-up anybody who would listen. I'm not sure any of the people he was chatting up were fully conscious. Everybody was semi-comotose from their hikes.

But he kept chatting away.....

He had one of those loud, but somehow soothing, southern accents from the Deep South. Sure enough, we'd later overhear him say he was originally from Mississippi, but now had moved to Alabama where his wife was originally from.

The two of them, he said, had been coming here since the mid 1980s...when, he swears, you could get a cabin at the Y for $28 dollars. His wife has continued to come each year, but the last several years, including this trip, the altitude has gotten to her. So, she stayed behind to do crafts with his daughter and kids.

While we were on our hike of just under four miles, he apparently hiked something like nine. Or, so he said. I also heard him say he'd hiked Longs Peak nine times (the last time in 1992) and Dennise says she heard him say he'd done Everest. So, at that point, I'd about assumed he was just a tall-tale-teller...ala the movie "Big Fish." (With the exact same accent as Albert Finney, btw...)

But then, we got back to our stop to cross the river and head back to the YCamp. And he took off up the hill like a guy in his twenties. He had a walking stick, and the slightly hunched over look of an older person....kind of like Yoda.

Got to the top, not a bit winded. Which is not something neither Dennise or me could say. He pointed us the right way, helping us figure out the wrong move we'd made that morning. Then, we came to a place where he stopped to call his wife on his cell, and we kept moving.

"Have a good life," he said, as we walked away.

So, all the hiking stories he told? Quite plausible to me now.

Just goes to show, you never know.

I will also note that half a dozen times in my life, I have overheard somebody say to the following to a guy like: "When I'm your age, I hope I have half your energy."

To hell with half.
I want all of what that guy's got.





Aug 5th

It's been so cool to get everybody's comments about this little blog. Especially from those of you who've been here before and have your own memories. Thanks for all the tips...

Dennise and me had lunch in town today. The big exciting news about that is that we saw a HUGE Elk on the way out of the YCamp:



It was just standing there....amazing...

I am writing this from the Main Administration Building, here at the YCamp. Dennise and Maria are making baskets over at the new craft center (which is HUGE, btw...) this afternoon.

Sitting here on the porch, looking out at the mountains just now, I have a flood of memories of what it was like to be here some years back. I told somebody before we left that it had been twenty years since I'd been here. Actually, it's probably more like thirty.

I remember being a younger kid and making a leather belt at wherever the old craft hut used to be. Pounded out all the letters of my name with the little metal brands (or whatever they're called...) Probably wore that belt until it wore out. Lest you giggle, leather belts were actually pretty cool in the mid-70s.

I remember sitting on this very porch, looking out at these very same mountains. I can look out there now, and it seems like only yesterday. And the moment I type that sentenceProxy-Connection: keep-alive
Cache-Control: max-age=0

C I feel like just another incredibly old geezer. I would guess hundreds, maybe thousands, of other folks who've come here over the years say the same thing.

I was mainly junior high/high school aged when we came up here then, and we did all sorts of cool stuff with the youth program they called the "Teen Barn." We had dances where we danced to stuff like Foreigner and Saturday Night Fever. We rode horses. We camped out overnight on top of a mountain somewhere. Wish I could remember which one it was.

One year, I remember riding around with some slightly older guys from Houston one of the years we came up here (names, and even faces, completely forgotten now...) and listening to Jerry Rafferty's "Baker Street," the Eagles "Hotel California," and Boston's "Don't Look Back" back-to-back-to-back on their car stereo.

We didn't go anywhere, we just drove around the little YCamp streets for as if we owned the place. Those guys introduced me to Van Halen, which means (according to Wikipedia) that year must have actually been 1978. They acted like I was a moron because I'd never heard of them. Heard of them plenty after that.

Other than D and me getting lunch in town, we had a pretty calm and laid back day today. Maria did go on the all-day hike. For one reason or another, they didn't make it all the way to Fern Lake. I think that disappointed her some. But, she's now liking the camp enough that it sounds like she'll go all day tomorrow, even though there's no big activity planned. (There is horseback riding, but she's not much in to that...)

This morning, I went into town and had coffee with Scott Wesson. Scott is a friend from RHS who also graduated my same year. He's one of those folks I've reconnected with, via Facebook. Hadn't seen him in twenty years, but got the chance to catch up today. That was quite nice. He and his family live in Denver, but they're also up for the week so we both took an hour out to catch up at Starbucks. It was great to hear how is life is going.

One of the things we both agreed is that Facebook has been an incredible tool for reconnecting old friends in a way that's truly amazing. I mean, I certainly would have never known he was here this week, if not for Facebook. And, I've also learned my old HPUMC friends, Dean and Pam (and their family) are going to be at their cabin in Southwest Colorado this weekend. They invited us to swing by, but we probably can't make it this trip.

Northaveners Cindy and Sandy (who just got married in Mass. btw) also invited us by their place too on our way home. Jeez, it's so great to have to many friends. It feels like an overwhelming blessing. We probably won't be able to make it there either, but how nice to have the options.

And! Just now (on Facebook) I note that Tom PR and Cary are doing a show Friday about thirty miles from here, and another in Colorado Springs Saturday night. What a ridiculously small world.

But, I digress...

Scott and I both took a moment to remember Brian Barnaud, another RHS classmate who recently died of a heart attack. It was a big shock to all who knew him. Lots of us had just caught up with Brian again via Facebook (even some of us in Dallas!) so it was a shock to hear he'd gone.

I told Scott how the death of Brian, along with last year's deaths of Kathleen and Russ, now strike me like the beginning of some big "bell curve of mortality" that almost everyone I know will fall out along eventually. I say this neither in jest or in cynicism. Just a growing reality of how much "we are dust, and to dust we shall return."

Scott told me a couple of nice stories of how Brian had touched his life at various points after high school. They're really Scott's stories to tell, but they reminded me of this fascinating tapestry of life that we all begin to weave, the older we get...sort of like Facebook.

Sort of like a wicker basket you might make a summer camp.

Sometimes, all the folks you know seem to be right there...all the time...even if you haven't seen them in a while...even if you never see them again....the communion of your personal saints.

Like the front-porch view of a mountain range you haven't seen in thirty years.





Aug 6th
Big storms last night have ushered in cooler weather today. Around ten o'clock storms moved in over the mountains. Lots of lightning and thunder-booming. The East-facing porch of our cabin was the perfect shelter to watch the storms come in. Not quite as torrential as a Hill Country storm in May, but impressive nonetheless.

And so, today has been significantly cooler. We've been in long sleeves and multiple layers all day. I know all yall in Texas probably don't want to hear that. I'd guess it's probably 55 to 63 degrees out there right now.

In fact, yesterday I checked Dallas weather just for kicks. The "low" temperature in Dallas was already higher at 8 am Dallas time than the projected "high" here. Again, just stating the facts. Not trying to make anyone feel insanely jealous. Really I'm not.
;)

People from Texas have been coming here to avoid the summer heat for a long, long time. It seems to me the folks here must have a love-hate relationship with all tourists, but perhaps Texans especially.

For example, I remember a bumper stickers/tshirts here in the 1970s that read "If God had wanted Texans to ski, he would have made bullshit white."
(Obviously, I am simply quoting here...)

There was a Texas retort that went, "If God hadn't wanted Texans in Colorado, he wouldn't have given them all them money."

Theologically, of course, both those views are pretty untenable. (In case you needed reminding...)

Nevertheless, we Texans are sincerely grateful for the chance to come here in August.

I've just returned from the craft building, where all three of us made a basket tonight, to add to the two baskets Dennise and Maria made yesterday. That's a grand total of five baskets.

That's a lot of baskets.

And like some homage to Lilly Tomlin's old comedy routine about buying a trash can at the store, they gave us a box to put all our baskets in.

We picked Maria up from camp a little early because she didn't want to ride horses. She had a frightening experience riding once, at a Y Princess campout, and she's done her best to stay away from horses ever since. Kinda sad about this. Not sure anything can be done about it, but I'm always open to tips.

So, since we had a short day, and since we'd assumed that we'd all three be going on a big, long hike Friday, Dennise and me took it fairly easy today. It's probably more accurate to say we went on three walks, not three hikes.

We started at Sprague Lake, just after dropping Maria off this morning. When we arrived, the only humans around the half mile oval were two fisherfolk, and one other couple. It was wonderfully calm and serene. Take a look:


This one includes "Half Mountain." Another shot for Bill Nash....




From there, we caught the Bear Lake shuttle, and made a little walk around Bear Lake.



Once done with that, we drove up the beginnings of Trail Ridge Road to "Hidden Valley," mainly because it seemed like a good place to eat lunch. Which it was. It was interesting to read about that area. Apparently used to be a ski area, right inside the national park. Operated until 1992, according to the signs.




The information signs all over that place made a big deal of how they'd removed the old ski lodge, taken down the lift, and pretty much just left the place so that nature could do her business in the years since. The result is that you can see pine trees growing back. But it's a slow, slow process.

Some of those trees, the signs say helpfully, are between 300 and 700 years-old. You don't just replace trees like that over night.

Another educational sign at the "Hidden Valley" area, which must be several years old now, implied that the only real and significant danger to the pine forest is forest fire.

That probably was true when they created that sign. But based on everything we're hearing around here, it's not true anymore. There is a HUGE, potentially devastating, disaster unfolding in the national park right now. It's the Pine Beetle.

Haven't heard of them? Well, if you haven't been here in several years, or if you're coming soon, you won't be able to help hearing about them. Because it's a big, big deal.

I am sure there's a more scientific name for the things, but everybody around here calls them Pine Beetles. They're little creatures no more than an eighth of an inch long each. And they kill pine trees. Pretty much all kinds of pine trees. The adults bore into the trees and lay eggs. The eggs hatch, and the larvae eat the bark from the inside out, effectively killing the tree. They're very good at it, and right now they are spreading with the same effects as a wild fire.

We've been told that much of the Western half of national park has either been killed or clear cut to attempt to stop their advance.

We've also been told that for every brown, dead tree you see, that have fallen at their advance, there are five more already gone right next to them. Given that math, it looks to me like much of the entire park could be wiped out as early as next year...and there are doomsday folks around here who agree with that.

Here's what some Pine Beetle damage looks right around Sprague Lake:



There is an insecticide, but it has to be applied from the ground...can't be sprayed. So, that's effectively pointless in this big a place.

They say that the Pine Beetles are extremely active because of two reasons:
1) Drought-like conditions that have weakened the trees, and
2) Warmer winters that have failed to kill of the predatory bugs like they used to in the past.

I'll leave you to decide whether this is more evidence of global warming. You get the sense lots of folks around here think it is. As evidence of this, they point to archeological evidence which shows ancient attacks by these killer bug's ancestors. But! In those cases, the winters almost always turned cold after a few years.

So, an extremely cold winter this year could theoretically save the park. But nobody's counting on that. And so (and I'm serious about this) there are folks predicting that ALL of the pine trees in this part of Colorado may eventually be gone. All of them. The great pine forests gone....poof. Five hundred years of nature's work gone an instant.

Which brings me back to "Hidden Valley," where we humans are so proud of the restoration work underway there. Yes, it's nice. But the tiny little trees growing since 1992 are dwarfed by their pine forest elders.

If this really does happen, it will change everything people have assumed about this place for the rest of our lifetimes.

Stay tuned.

Tonight, we're gonna head to town in search of "Bob and Tony's." That's the famous pizza place where you can carve your name in the wall. Somehow, we've missed it on our trips downtown so far. I hope it's still there.





Aug 7th
I am pleased to report that Bob and Tony's lives.

The pizza joint is still cooking, and we ate there last night. I must confess one trick of my own memory, though. My memory was that it was a *wood* walled restaurant, and that everybody carved their names in the wood. That doesn't seem to be the case. Most of the names were in the bricks.

Delish stuff, btw. Really good pizza.

After dinner, we walked around downtown and then called it a night.

As I mentioned, me and Dennise took it easy yesterday, because we assumed that Maria was joining us for an adventurous family hike today. Turned out not to be. She wanted to go to camp again. So, she did.

In fact, when we picked her up a while ago, she said "I don't want to leave."

Later she said again that she wished we could stay another week. I suppose that's a very good thing. It makes me smile a lot.

So, Dennise and me changed our plans, and took another hike off the Bear Lake trails. Since we had to pick Maria up a little after 3 pm, we decided to head down the trail to Sky Pond, just as far as we could make it; knowing that, time and energy wise both, we might not get the whole way.

We actually got pretty far...to the base of Treeline Falls. By then, it was clear that to get back in time for Maria we'd need to turn back. And, frankly, I'm not sure either of us had the energy.

It was an almost 8 mile round trip, if you count how we started at Bear Lake, ended up back at Glacier Gorge, and took a five minute detour up the trail to Andrews Glacier. I think both of us really wanted to go to the Glacier, because Dennise has never seen one. But that trail was pretty steep, and we clearly weren't gonna get there...perhaps just get close enough to see it.

So, we didn't see the Glacier. But we did see some snow up there:



Making the choice to head toward Sky Pond ended up being the right choice. It offered a us a nice place to stop, just above the treeline, have lunch, and enjoy the incredible falls.

We stopped at the marshy area, just above the treeline. We were absolutely swarmed by the weakest, wimpiest mosquitos I've ever seen in my life. I have always heard that temperature has a lot to do with a mosquito's ferocity.

Didn't expect them above the treeline frankly. Hadn't put any Off on. (I like that sentence...) And in the time it took to wrestle it from my bag, the mosquitos at home would have done their vampire best for dozens of bites.

But up there? The whole swarm of them didn't even land one single bite.

How pitiful for them.

Good Lord, those falls are gorgeous.

I know, I know, some of you will probably tell us how we should have pushed on to Sky Lake. But we really didn't have time. Really, we didn't.

We picked up Maria with just 5 minutes to spare.

It was an amazing hike. Truly incredible. I can remember hiking above the treeline once before. In fact, when we were here in high school, I distinctly remember a hike where we were well above the treeline for a long time. And yet, it wasn't really that bad a hike. (Of course, I had the body of a sixteen or seventeen-year-old...)

My memory is that on the way down, some folks continued on and boot skied down a glacier, while others of us went down another way. It wasn't exactly the approved trail either....it was kind of down the side until we came on the trail.

I really wonder which mountain that was.

I have no idea.

So, this was my first time hiking up to the treeline in quite a while. It was gorgeous.

Here are shots....

The "Loch" area:






The "Treeline Falls" area:



Now, we are beat. Seriously beat. We're gonna head back into town to carb-load at a hamburger joint, and do the last bit of our souviner shopping. We had not sent one post card to anybody, which made me feel pretty guilty until Dennise helpful reminded me that this blog is kinda like a postcard to you all.

I wish I was more reflective right now, but I'm beat. And tomorrow will come fast and furious. We've got to check out by 10 am, but will probably hang around here a bit to let Maria make one last bracelet at the craft house.

Then, it's back through Denver to return the sleeping bag to my Aunt and Uncle. The plan is to end up at Colorado Springs, and do Pikes Peak...which, incredulously, I have NEVER done. I think Dad was always eager to get us home and thinking, "We've already been in mountains all week!"

But we're gonna stop there, and may even stop there for the night. Hopefully, we can call it an early night, before a long day of driving the next day.

By incredible chance, my sister and her family will arrive here tomorrow afternoon. We've not check flight schedules yet, but I'm gonna assume they get here late afternoon, well after we'll need to be gone. We're gonna leave 'em a note, though.

And, all of this activity is ahead of an idea that is still in the "idea" stage: a big family gathering here next year, to mark my parent's 50th Wedding Anniversary.

Frankly, I think it's a really cool idea. And it's very clear that the Y is good at going reunions.

(Dad and Mom, if you're reading this, we'll do a little research on what's available. From what we can tell, we're gonna be two people short of what they require for their reunion cabins, but we plan to ask about it tomorrow. And I'm sure Linda will too. And then we'll all get our heads together during the year to come. One thing though: we're gonna have to plan early!)

It would be cool for all the cousins to be here at the YCamp in camp at the same time next year.

I'm sure Linda and her family are coming to check it out this year, just like we are.

And no matter what plans get made for *that* event, I'm really really happy that Dennise and Maria both liked it this week.

This makes me smile ear to ear.

As one last pic, enjoy this shot of the moon tonight, from our cabin's front porch. Our cabin looks due East, out over Twin Sisters Mountain.



The pic is of the moon, just rising over the top of Twin Sisters, with clouds above and to the side, and the lights from cabins scattered down the side of the mountain.

A fitting nightime "goodbye" to this place.






Aug 8th
In the summer of 1893, Katharine Lee Bates, a teacher at Wellesley College, set out on an adventure across America. She and other teacher friends were invited to spend the summer teaching at Colorado College in Colorado Springs...the city I'm writing you from tonight.

But before coming here, they stopped in Chicago to see the World's Fair, and took in the best of human ingenuity of the time. Then, they headed south through Kansas' amber waves of grain.

Among other friends, she was accompanied by another woman named Katharine, who many believe may have been her longtime lover.

Bates herself describes one of the events of that summer in Colorado Springs:

"One day some of the other teachers and I decided to go on a trip to 14,000-foot Pikes Peak. We hired a prairie wagon. Near the top we had to leave the wagon and go the rest of the way on mules. I was very tired. But when I saw the view, I felt great joy. All the wonder of America seemed displayed there, with the sea-like expanse."

One story goes that Bates lingered longer on the mountain than her companions and --even there, at that high elevation-- began to write down verses. By the time she left the town later that summer, she had all of the verses of a hymn you have heard countless times.

O beautiful, for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea.

As you might imagine, I am thinking of all of this today, because earlier we took our own sojourn to the top of Pike's Peak.



Dennise says she remembers visiting here at a kid, but she clearly didn't remember the road; which, turns out, is as daunting, or more so, than the Trail Ridge Road. (And I've already written about how *that* went...)

Frankly, I was a bit surprised by the road too. I'd always been told what an easy drive up it is. And, I guess in some sense that's true. But, much of the top third of the drive is gravel (nobody mentioned that to me!) and there are few directional or speed limit signs.

Which, of course, means the speed limit is *slow*.

We made it all the way up, To my mind, this means we have no good reason to avoid the Trail Ridge Road next year.
;)

It *was* amazing.



I totally get that folks have varied relationships with this song. It *is* a hymn, that is sure. It was first published in a Congregationalist newspaper. And the nationalistic tone can sometimes be troubling.

But I sure like it more than "God Bless America."

To me, "America the Beautiful" was redeemed by two events. One was when Ray Charles recorded it, which gave us, by a factor of ten, the best recording of it, ever.

The second event was after September 11th, when along with millions I saw Dan Rather on David Letterman, and both of them teared up a little. But none more than when Rather cited the fourth verse of the hymn:

"O beautiful, for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years,
Thine alabaster cities gleam
Undimmed by human tears!"

There was something about the memory of the twin towers, the connection of urban America with rural America, that really spoke to me. For about a year I learned my own little acoustic version of the song and played it at every show.

I still like it far more than "God Bless America." There is something about the driving, bombastic nature of that song that simply doesn't do anything for me.

But "America the Beautiful?"

There's such richness to the imagery...

Amber waves of grain...
Fruited plains...
Purple mountains majesty...
Alabaster cities...

The poetry is lush. And, the truth is, the theology is better too. Check out the chorus of verse two, in case you've never heard it:

"America! America! God mend thine ev'ry flaw;
Confirm thy soul in self control, thy liberty in law!"

There's something about this song that, while it *is* asking for God's favor on the nation, is not *assuming* we deserve it. It's a song that assumes whether or not we have God's favor depends upon us.

It's a song that's not so much saying that America is "great," but that America is "beautiful." I like to meditate on how being "beautiful" might even be more important than being "great."

Perhaps the beauty comes from the country's incredible nature landscape. Perhaps the beauty also comes through, dare I say, *humility?*

Yes, let's ask God to mend our many flaws. Let's remember our self control. And, above all, on a day when we hear the current Attorney General probably *will* launch an inquiry into torture, lets remember we're a country based on law...and that nobody is above that law. Ever.

In every generation, we have that chance to become beautiful again.

In *this* generation, on this day, what stunned me was to imagine how difficult a trip like that must have been in 1893. We now call Pike's Peak, "America's Mountain," partially due to the relatively good road that goes all the way to the top. (Even if it's more harrowing that I assumed...)

But imagine earlier generations. Whether it was via wagon or on foot...whether it was a United States surveyor, or Native people centuries before...what an unbelievable journey to get to the top!!! You can see how much awe there must have been in the journey, how impressive the memory would have been, compared to almost anything else they could have seen in the known world of the time.

I *love* the trip down. Maybe it's because since I'm usually driving, I can see much more of the incredible vistas on the way down. Gravity is such an amazing thing.
--------------------------------

We did stop at Aunt Alice and Uncle John's on the way back through Denver. Linda sent me a message that their flight was delayed into Denver, and that they didn't expect to get to Estes Park until 10 pm or later. I hope they had a good drive up.

I also thought about Bill Nash briefly again this afternoon. We stopped for gas on I-25 at Highway 66, where you can actually turn back to go right back up into the mountains (right back to Estes, really...) Bill and Patty probably traveled down that same road today, on their way to the Rocky Mountain Folks Fest...which I really need to get myself to one of these years.

I'm thinking again about the several friends who invited us to visit their cabins/houses at places here in Colorado on our way home. We're not gonna make it by any one of these kind offers. But it was nice to have the invites. And nice to think about other folks I know crisscrossing the state today.

Tomorrow, after a trip to Garden of the Gods, it'll be time to head back to Texas.





Aug 9th
We're back in Texas, in Amarillo, tonight. We had another great night last night, and one more great day today.

Last night, after we came down Pike's Peak, we found ourselves in the Manitou/Colorado City part of town. I don't know enough to know whether these are actual suburbs or just names of parts of town (like "Lakewood" is to Dallas...). Maybe somebody can enlighten me.

I have heard from friends who used to live in Colorado Springs that the town is pretty starkly divided among different populations. There is as mostly liberal part of town that's something like Austin or the West Coast, and then there is the part of town where Focus on the Family and other ultra-conservative para-church groups are located. Many of these kind of groups have moved to the town, earning it the name "The Protestant Vatican" in some circles. More accurately: The Conservative Protestant Vatican. But it's an interesting name anyway, and speaks to the power and influence of these groups on the nation, and likely on the city.

For example, I did note a green freeway sign pointing out the exit for the "Focus on the Family Visitor Center."

Hmmn...

Anyway, from my own visual observation, it appeared to me that Manitou/Colorado City might be the more Austinish part of town. And if so, that was more than fine and dandy with us.

We ate at a place called Front Range Barbeque, on the main street of Colorado City. Seemed to be a lot of live music today, and we even saw a guy busking as we were leaving today.

Love it.

We stayed at a Days Inn in Manitou. Added bonus there: a hot tub! Perfect for some still sore muscles from the day before.

We intentionally took our time getting going this morning, because we could. We first stopped off at the Manitou Cliff Dwellings. These are some fascinating Native American dwellings right on the outskirts of town....literally right off the highway. Here are a few shots.



They reminded Dennise and me a lot of the Taos area and, sure enough, the museum indicated a link between the people's who founded this area and the Taos Pueblo. On Facebook today, Tom Geddie reminded me of the several sets of ruins in and around Northern New Mexico...Bandalier, etc. We had indeed visited those a few years back.



Manitou was neither as large nor as spiritually powerful as those sites in Northern New Mexico. (at least to me...) Still, it was fascinating to learn of that cultural connection.



After this, we stopped off at Garden of the Gods, and mostly just did a quick drive through. We all realized that the park would have been quite cool to explore on foot, but it was time to get on the road.







We finally got on the road by mid-afternoon. Thankfully, the interstate bridge that is under construction in southern Colorado is only the northbound side (Walsenburg?) and we just sailed through that area.

I actually didn't feel real great much of the afternoon. Perhaps dinner didn't agree? Who knows? Slept some.

Anyway, by the time we go to Raton, I was driving again, and we pushed through all the way to Amarillo tonight.

Man, did the Highlander Hybrid do well through New Mexico!! As we made that slow descent down, zipping back past the volcano fields, we were getting fantastic mileage....30 mpg for the entire trip through New Mexico! Slightly less once we reached Texas and hit a small thunderstorm. But still finished around 28 mpg for the day...pretty dang cool. If we sustain that, it's more than 475 miles per 17 gallon tank.
Whoohoo!

As we drove across the Texas line, the iPod gods bestowed a Nancy Griffith song on us...Love at the Five and Dime..the live version.

And at this same moment, we started to note some incredibly ominous clouds on the horizon...clouds that stayed with us the rest of the night. The Treo and iPhone weather radars told us that it was a HUGE Texas storm, situated just over Amarillo.

Dennise shot these, as we drove straight East and toward the storm.





It was an incredible thing, to watch this powerful cloud right in front of us...how it turned from white to pink to amber and orange...and how after the light slipped away, the lightning show was amazing.

From the looks of it on radar, we were pretty sure we'd miss the whole thing. But no. We hit a tail end of it about 30 or so miles north of town. Very heavy downpour for about 10 minutes, and possibly some hail.

Then, as often happens here...poof...it was gone. We'd driven through that tail of the storm and into open dark sky, with the lights of Amarillo shimmering in the distance.

So, we're here now. And this is very likely the last update for this blog.

If you've been reading all along, you will recall that we left a lot of things hanging when we left; things I wrote about the last time we were here in Amarillo.

I can give you some updates...

Mary Clair *did* have gall bladder surgery. And while I haven't spoken to her in a few days, she was doing very well the last time I did. The report on Dennise's Dad is equally good. He went home from the hospital the day we got to Colorado, and seems to be doing well. The renters are still moving out, and there is much to do to get our log house in order. Dennise's Mom is still going her chemo and radiation. Please continue to pray for her.

But, all in all, we did a pretty good job not worrying about all of that while we were gone.

Tonight, some of it is inevitably creeping back into my brain.

As I wrote on Facebook, I'm still looking for how you can get a vacation where all the problems you left at home are magically solved by the time you return. Haven't found that yet. If you've got any tips, not only let me know...but write a book. You'll be a zillionare.

But I trust some of this trip will stay with me over the next few months, as we move through what we left at home, and whatever else is coming soon.

-----------------------------
CODA:
I will probably do a couple of things once we're home:
1) rearrange it so that it reads chronologically. This will be more enjoyable for anyone stumbling on this in the future, and
2) Add some links and possibly some video.

No timeline for any of this. Just when I get around to it.

Hope you've enjoyed this blog. I really appreciated all my Facebook friends leaving tips and comments each day. That was fun to read. Thanks again.

Peace....

EF

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