Buckle Up, Baby...Another HWOTP Photo

Christina Aguilera has to be one of the most photogenic people in the world, in my most humble, obsessed-with-her opinion. Here's a candid shot I found of her, of all things, putting on a seatbelt. There's not anything really newsworthy prompting me to post a shot of her today, though I did have a "that's my boy" moment earlier this week in which she was the focus. I picked Boston up from baseball practice Monday night, and while driving back home the Sirius Beat remix of "Aint' No Other Man" came on. I proceeded to crank my sound system and say something corny like, "there she is!", at which time Bos said "H-WOT-P!" and laughed. Yep, son, she IS the Hottest Woman On The Planet...

28 Days In The Coke Works

My dad is an aspiring author, and this is his first novel, written a couple of years ago. It was quite an enjoyable read, even if I am just a bit biased. Check out the brief review here.

I used to like Clancy until his books got too technical for my tastes. That's not a slam, it's just when he went that route I lost interest. I like Grisham because he's a master story teller, quite important as a novelist, I'd say. Dad's book is fast-paced and full of make-you-think scenarios. If you're in for a novel, I'd certainly recommend you take a peak at this one.

Front Page Material

I found an interesting link today while surfin' the web during my lunch break (blueberry muffin & Diet Dr. Pepper), and I like it so much I've added it to my Surfin' The Pond section over on the right-hand side of the page. It's a feature found on the newseum.com family of pages that gives a snapshot of over 500 front pages from newspapers from around the world. One of the perks I enjoyed in my previous employ was the travel, and the diversity of papers across the country. With gas prices so high, and my now much-loved life-of-a-homebody, I no longer have to travel to peruse the papers! 'What is so appealing?', you might ask. Well, it's simply aesthetic. Some papers do a really cool job of presenting the same ol' stuff everybody else is yackin' about. I don't look at papers for the content anyway, as I prefer to read about car crashes while there's still smoke rising from the screech marks. I prefer to read about my favorite sporting events while the fans in attendance are exiting the ballparks. The only way to do these things, of course, is to get my news online. But, there is something intriguing about the look and feel of a newspaper. The latter annoys me in my old age, as I can't seem to get comfortable holding it open. The former, though, I can once again enjoy with my new found site. If you're interested, you'd better click my link quick, 'cuz I'm liable to get bored with it and pull it down in about five minutes. I'm random that way sometimes...

The Prodigal Daughtry

I wish to look at three matters: 1) the secular beauty of the Prodigal Son story, 2) the spiritual beauty of Daughtry’s Home, & 3) the staggering beauty of the song & scripture together.

1. The Secular Beauty of the Prodigal Son parable.

Click here for the KJV version of the story. With such a heavy "churchy" background, I've not until recently considered this parable outside of it's perceived intent of illustrating a backslider's return to the the Faith. While vacationing with my two sons over Spring Break this year, however, I was struck with the similarities I currently, and could, share with the Prodigals father. I began thinking about the story as just a secular account of a father with two boys, one of which decides to leave home. I began to imagine how this father, much like me, loved each of his sons individually as much as he did both of them together. My sons have different personalities, mannerisms, likes & dislikes, etc., all mixed in with the many things they share. I love them both, neither more than the other, and tell them each at certain times ("you're my favorite 10 year old boy on the planet" to Boston & "you're my favorite 8 year old boy in the world" to Britain). I make an attempt to look them in the eyes and tell them daily that I love them, and that together they make up my favorite people in all the universe. It seems the prodigal's father felt the same way, even when things changed for them. A lot of things have been added to the story, gaps filled in and what not, but in just looking at what we know, the youngest son left home after getting his inheritance, and proceeded to "waste" it on a lifestyle of excess. As I glanced over some of these things I began to question how I would feel if one or both of my boys decide in the future to not spend so much time with me, and instead began to live in a way that I would perceive to be injurious to them, physically, emotionally, etc. I need not cite examples, I think the imagination is enough to paint a picture of what I'm after, so just think of the things that might make you worry about your own kids. Would I be judgmental, and hateful to them? Would I be deeply saddened and overcome with grief? Would I try to counsel them each time I saw them that they need to change their ways? Would I tell other people how much I wish they were different? I'm not sure, and I don't think I'm fully ready to answer those things until, or if, they happen. What I am certain of is the fact that I want to cultivate in me what most certainly was in the heart of this father. I noticed when the son came home, there were recorded no remarks of judgment from him. There were no "you should have listened to me" comments, or any "I'm glad you finally came to your senses" lines, only a father's happiness that his son who was gone, now was home. That's it. If my sons get involved in hurtful, potentially damaging activities, I think it's my duty to help steer them in a more life-enhancing direction, but I also think there's a time and a place for that, and in the chronology of it all that instruction should probably come after they are convinced my love for them is still the same. And then I thought to myself, if this is the case for the "big sins" they may get into, then why shouldn't it apply to all errors in judgment, regardless of size. My boys get grouchy sometimes, and they whine, and they don't wanna do the things they need to keep a balance. As soon as I see these things, what is most important? To teach them, or to love them? It's a tough call, because I know kids need instruction from time to time, but it is becoming more and more apparant to me that what I want to give to them more than anything is my love, my understanding, my compassion, my admiration, and communicate my utter sense of joy that they're alive. It's just some of the thoughts I had jotted down here a bit loosely, but I think as a summary I just want to express the attitude of the prodigal's father is a great benchmark for our kids' transgressions.

2. The Spiritual Beauty of Daughtry's Home

Click here for the lyrics to this fascinating song, and here for the video. I'm not certain of my amount of belief right now (read previous posts Why Believe? & The God Delusion), but one thing I recall from more involved "churchier" days how beautiful it was to see a life wrecked by sin and vice repent and "make it right" by turning his life around. It was good to see a man return home who had allowed drugs & alcohol drive him from his family and kids. It was beautiful to see a woman rejoin her companion after falling prey to a profligate lifestyle that left her with a bruised heart and empty soul. Perhaps it's memories like these that immediately struck me when I began hearing this song a while back and related it to spiritual matters. Home is a grand picture of an epic spiritual journey back from degradation and despair to dignity and delight. When it begins with "I'm staring out into the night, Trying to hide the pain", I can almost see the wayward soul searching through the fog of intoxication (whatever the source) for a sense of meaning and purpose amidst their regrets. In the line "I'm going to the place where love And feeling good don't ever cost a thing", I imagine how much of a blessing it is to realize there's someone (we could capitalize this) who loves us for who we are, and not for what we can contribute to them. That's one of the most amazing pictures of Deity I can fathom. In the chorus I like the line "home...where your love has always been enough for me". Doesn't that seem like a contradiction? I mean, if the love was enough, why would one leave in the first place? Therein is a most splendid picture of what causes waywardness to begin with...discontent. So many live with a restlessness, a sense of appreciating what I have, knowing it's magnificent, but wondering if perhaps there's something else out there. It takes a lot of maturity to realize that sometimes the risk involved in trying to answer the "is their more out there" question is not worth it, for there are some things indeed that are "once lost, never regained". If what you have is enough, by all means protect it and cherish it, and certainly be very careful not to risk losing it for a phantasm. A little later the song says "I don't know why. You always seem to give me another try." Once again, if I were seeking a portrait of a Divine, this would be a spectacular brushstroke. Grace and mercy are two very pleasant concomitants of a spiritual transformation. Then later still we hear a most profound admonition: "Be careful what you wish for, 'Cause you just might get it all...And then some you don't want." Wow, true indeed. My line of thinking here is like the story of Faust. With the desire for wine, women & song comes the risk of going too far and suffering from the various maladies associated with excess in these things (for song, just think partying, etc.) Here the lesson is simply stated in the first two words "be careful", nothing more needs to be added (for or by me) concerning our choice of desires. Finally, I like the part "these places and these faces are getting old, So I'm going home". I wonder how many would rise above the squalid environ their in if they only knew they could? I read a book a long time ago called Twice-Born Men by Harold Begbie (read it here, if you wanna) in which a host of conversions were portrayed. I remember it warming my heart. It depicted many lives made low by vice brought up to respectability through religious awakening. That makes an attractive story, huh?

3. The Staggering Beauty of The Song & Scripture Together

With these two preceding thoughts in view, is it not apparant how marvelous an illustration of the Prodigal Son can be found in Home? It's almost a ready made movie! We have the script and the soundtrack already provided. If you're in the mood, enter the little cinema-for-one in your mind, read the parable, play the song, and see what images you can witness...

Somalia, Snow White, & The Sting Of A Loved One's Death

Recently I read a story about a Somalian family in Indianapolis that was like a punch to the gut. Less than a full week after fleeing war-ravaged Somalia and locating in a place much safer and more secure, tragedy struck most unexpectedly. While riding a bicycle near their new home, the family’s young girl was struck and killed by a car reportedly driven by a woman who apparently fell asleep at the wheel. If viewed with media drama we might observe many of the things that went wrong to cause this senseless loss of life, and allow ourselves to be terrified of a number of seemingly harmless events. In actuality, there is really no answer to the reverberating “why” of it all, other than the fact that freak accidents happen from time to time. I could suggest that parents should keep their kids out of the road, but I’ve been guilty of letting mine go into the street to ride a bike, walk the dog, and even throw a baseball in times past. The truth of the matter, though, is the same accident could’ve easily have happened right in the front yard. I could overstate the obvious and say the woman shouldn’t have allowed herself to drive if she was that sleepy, but then again, I’ve been just as guilty of driving while tired and nearly falling asleep. Truthfully, though, this could’ve happened while she was wide awake. No doubt whoever suggested the family move in the first place is kicking themselves for making the suggestion, and the family is crushed they ever followed through. I’m sure the motorist is regretful of leaving the moment she did, for if she’d have gone a couple minutes earlier or later, this may not even be a story. But, is there really any feelings of regret that should be harbored? I suppose if we knew how we were going to die we’d avoid the causative activity with a pronounced focus. Such thinking is fruitless, and so is looking back on such an activity and saying 1) the family never should’ve moved, 2) the kid should’ve never been riding in the road, & 3) the woman should’ve pulled over for a rest before falling asleep. It just happened, plain and simple.
As if that wasn’t morbid enough, though, I came across an eerily similar account in, of all places, the fabulous book about Walt Disney by Neil Gabler. Disney & his brother, Roy, worked hard at building the company from nothing, all the while wishing they could have their aging parents closer to them. Located in southern California while mom & pop were in the Pacific Northwest, visits were very few and far between. The reason they couldn’t be closer? money. The elder Disney’s were landlords and couldn’t leave the source of their meager existence. The boys were pouring every last bit of earnings back into the company, and had none to spare to move their parents near them. Then Snow White came to the rescue. From struggling to outrageously wealthy in a few short months, Walt & Roy suddenly became enabled to buy a house and bring their beloved mom & dad to L.A. A very, very short time later, their mother was dead: seemingly due to the faulty installation or shoddy condition of a brand new heating & cooling system. The air wasn’t been circulated properly, and carbon monoxide poisoning resulted. It bears repeating: I suppose if we knew how we were going to die we’d avoid the causative activity with a pronounced focus. Such thinking is fruitless, and so is looking back on such an activity and saying 1) the family never should’ve moved, 2) the heating & cooling company should’ve never been chosen, & 3) the system should’ve been checked and re-checked prior to the move-in date. It just happened, plain and simple.
The Somalian family will begrudgingly speak of the city of Indianapolis for years to come, just like Snow White was the cause of some bitter memories for some in the Disney clan. But our great state’s capital and the lovely friend of dwarves had nothing to do with these deaths, really. The fact is people die from a plethora of different things that shouldn’t be avoided because of it. Motorcycles, cars, zoos, jet-skiing, swimming, mountain climbing, jogging in the woods, sex, sports…the list could go on and on when it comes to some of the things people have been doing when they died.
So what’s the point? Actually, it’s just a simple note to self to value every second of life, every breath, every conversation, every hug, every meal, every walk, every passed ball, every holiday, and every other seemingly “little” thing I experience. I want to be conscious of every detail, regardless of how miniscule it may seem. I want to soak up all of other people I can get, and willingly share my best self with all who are around me.
Two songs come to mind, one from yesterday, and one fresh one from today. Steven Curtis Chapman’s The Next Five Minutes & Woody Bradshaw’s The Last Thing You Do. May we all live it.

A Smudge On The Crystal Ball

As I was finishing reading Neil Gabler's Walt Disney last week I came across an interesting bit o' information. Two notable things happened in the year 1955 that 50+ years later still find the world feeling the repurcussions. On April 15 of that year, Ray Kroc opened a franchised restaurant called McDonald's, in Des Plaines, Illinois. A quarter year later, on July 17, Walt opened Disneyland in Anaheim, California. At some point, the paths of Kroc & Disney crossed, and the former referenced his recent purchase of a fast-food restaurant chain, and posed to the latter his desire to open a unit inside Disneyland, which was denied. My first thought was how powerful a combination it would have been, and that Walt Disney certainly made a mistake in not seeing the potential of such a great concept as McDonald's. Then, of course, I was quick to remind myself that it doesn't look as though either company suffered anything from the avoided marriage. According to a Business Week report in 2004 concerning the top brands in the world, Disney was ranked #6 and McDonald's was #7. (Read the PDF here.)
I then recalled John Greenleaf Whittier's poignant poem Maud Miller, in which he said:

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: “It might have been!”

But, of course, hindsight is always 20/20. Can we really blame Disney for not accepting the offer? I think not, and here's why. In life we are frequently presented with opportunities (granted, not multi-billion dollar ones) that require split-second decisions, and sometimes we miss it. This little scenario was a gentle encourager to me in that although I may win some, and lose some, a miss doesn't necessarily mean I can't succeed in other manners.

The God Delusion

After some interesting conversations both verbally and electronically with Andy the past couple of months, I've launched out into the depths of atheistic literature. The book I started this weekend is The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins, a noted atheist and gifted author, which appears to be a quite potent combination considering that this work is ranked #15 on the New York Times Best Sellers List today, and has been on the list for 32 weeks. I actually referenced Dawkins a few posts ago when I asked Why Believe?, but this is the first time I've read any of his material directly. In the post I linked to an article I found on Arts & Letters daily that I felt was well-written and just enticing enough to probe a bit further, so here I am. As if the article itself wasn't enough, the widely disparate viewpoints of a couple of my friends (Andy & Jabel) on Dawkins & atheism in general have provided the final impetus necessary to get me reading. As a matter of fact, the book was hand-delivered to me by Andy, tucked nicely into a saddle-bag on his beast of a bike and brought the many miles that separate us geographically, so I offer him my sincere thanks.

As of this post, I'm better than 10% of the way through, and already I've found many, many intriguing points. Not the least of which is Dawkins' "spectrum of probability" concerning the existence or non-existence of God. He sums it up as follows:

1. Strong theist. 100 per cent probability of God. In the words of C.G. Jung, 'I do not believe, I know.'
2. Very high probability but short of 100 per cent. De facto theist. 'I cannot know for certain, but I strongly believe in God and live my life on the assumption that he is there.'
3. Higher than 50 per cent but not very high. Technically agnostic but leaning towards theism. 'I am very uncertain, but I am inclined to believe in God.'
4. Exactly 50 per cent. Completely impartial agnostic. 'God's existence and non-existence are exactly equiprobable.'
5. Lower than 50 per cent but not very low. Technically agnostic but leaning towards atheism. 'I don't know whether God exists but I'm inclined to be sceptical.'
6. Very low probability, but short of zero. De facto atheist. 'I cannot know for certain, but I think God is very improbable, and I live my life on the assumption that he is not there.'
7. Strong atheist. 'I know there is no God, with the same conviction that Jung 'knows' there is one.'

Not too long ago I would have unquestionably placed myself in category 1, but now I'm not so sure. What I do know is that I'm determined to never latch onto any belief (or non-belief) without a copious amount of investigation...

Blast From The Past: White Lion's "Wait"

I heard this song on the radio today (Sirius Big 80's) and it brought back some pretty powerful feelings. I grew up obsessed with MTV in the 80's, and this is one of the videos that I really got into. It's full of the big-hair of that decade, and invoked a lot of emotion in my teenage heart. Click here to watch the vid.

Of E-Mail Replies & Ethicist Selection

Scott Adams for President! I love, love, love today's strip.

My First In-Person View Of The HWOTP

I enthusiastically revealed in an earlier post a most phenomenal Christmas gift purchased for me by my adorable gal-pal Amy. Yep…she got me tix to a Christina Aguilera concert, and I’m jotting down here my musings on the mind-blowing trip we just experienced.
We left on a Thursday night last month, right after one of my Financial Accounting classes, and headed out on a road trip toward the concert venue in Cleveland, Ohio. Driving at night, not much traffic, jammin’ to some favorite tunes (thank you, God, for Sirius)…man, it was so relaxing. In a previous employ I spent many hours driving back and forth across US HWY 50 between Bedford & Cincinnati, and it seems not much has changed since last I whip-surfed that blessed asphalt. Somewhere over on 275 we had “a Big & Rich time”, and decided that one thing would help make it a perfect night, so we “had a bowl of that Skyline chili along the way.” It was aj’s first stop-off, her only other experience with Cincinnati style chili coming in the form of Skyline’s MUCH inferior rival, Gold Star. Blah!...who can eat that stuff. Skyline rocks! I even asked the (um, attractive!) waitress which was better, and she agreed Skyline gets the nod;) But, the highlight of the chili-stop was when one of us (I don’t remember which) asked who the best drummer on the planet is, and we both enthusiastically responded with “BARCH!”, and followed up with an emphatic high-five. Yep, Brian Barchman of the world-famous band Junk is the real deal…and you gotta see it to believe it! That first night ended somewhere around Columbus…just an hour or so from the concert venue…
We awoke to Friday the 13th, but this was to be no spooky day. After a quick share (we do that a lot) of Momma’s Pancake Breakfast at Cracker Barrel, we were off toward Cleveland and the Wolstein Center where the HWOTP would be belting out tunes in semi-clad grandeur in just a matter of hours. If I was excited (and I was, so why do I say if?), I kept it stoically hidden behind a stoned-faced determination. Nothing, and I repeat NOTHING, was going to stop me from layin’ blue eyes on the blonde bombshell. About mid-afternoon we spotted the Wolstein, staked out our entry point, and were off to find are snazzy jazzy razzle-dazzle of a place to stay-The Wyndham Cleveland at Playhouse Square. We located it, put my spectacular $400 car in the hands of an awe-struck valet, and strolled into the place like we were rock stars. Man, life is good. A swim & a shower later, it was time to begin the leisurely two block jaunt to the concert hall. The weather was a spot chilly, but that would be the only inconvenience of a perfect day. After standing in line for a spell, turning down some dude sellin’ $10 concert shirts (note to self: GET ONE OUTSIDE NEXT TIME, DORK!), and making the dreaded mistake of uttering the words “American Idol” in line behind a simple girl with nothing better to do than listen to strangers talk behind her and then butt in on the conversation. I really wasn’t annoyed, I’m just funnin’…but she did know a helluva lot more, it seems, even than the 2nd place Idol-addicts, the Jabels. Anyway, we got in the stadium and headed toward our seats, when I was encouraged to take a peak at a cool tattoo (or was it a necklace, aj?) on a chick’s chest. Yip, Amos, they were nice;) And then (hussssssshhhhhhh)…it was all about to happen. The opening act was Dannity Kane, which was a’ight. Next came the Pussycat Dolls, who ain’t right (which is a compliment, btw). Damn! That’s my short review. And then, the world stopped spinning…a light breeze began to blow…and I saw her, “an apparition in white”…
I simply call her “my obsession”, and the majority of folks smile and nod and offer up a simple “everybody has one”, with only a small minority of dishonest souls who are scared of anyone seein’ inside of ‘em says something akin to “there comes a time to grow up” and other snide comments. To the latter a response is not worth the bandwidth, howsoever small, so I’ll ignore them here as I do in person;) But my obsession she is, and when I first saw her silhouette on the stage before the lights came on and the music began to rip, I knew she was worthy of the admiration. For the next 2 hours she belted out hits, new and old alike, in a dizzying display of well-planned sets and mind-boggling choreography. I’ve been to concerts before, and I’ve been mesmerized by the musical talent of such bands as Rascal Flatts, Bon Jovi, System of a Down & others, but this was different somehow. This was as much a production as it was a concert, and gave a whole new meaning to the term “show”. From a critical perspective, in my opinion the whole production was flawless. Her singing is somehow even better in person; the dancing was elaborate and never missed a beat; the costumes were gorgeous and appealing; the stage decoration was very detailed and snazzy; and Christina is certainly a very beautiful woman. Wow, I was and still am in absolute awe.
I could say more and more about the concert, so if you’re interested then just get a hold of me and we’ll discuss it over a favorite libation, something fitting for a conversation about a goddess. But for sake of time & space I’ll finish up this post with a quick summary of the (only slightly) inferior activities that followed our concert experience.
We left the show and walked into downtown Cleveland amidst a throng! Billy Joel was in concert down the road, and had just let out, & the Indians had just played their home-opener at Jacobs Field, and had also just finished, so a confluence of the three crowds descended on the eateries and drinkeries of the area. We settled in a most fascinating bar called Panini’s and ate some of the delectable fare and chatted it up a bit.
The next day we set out on a whirlwind three day road trip that took us to some interesting places. Our first stop was in Buffalo, New York, where we dined at The Anchor Bar, the location of the original Buffalo Hot Wings. This was my 2nd trip to the restaurant, but hopefully not my last. We then headed up to Niagara Falls to take a quick glimpse of the falls before sundown. We were next to American Falls, and looking across to Horseshoe Falls I noticed the place I stood the last time I was there was all covered over with several feet of snow and ice. It was quite extraordinary. Our late night run-around landed us at the Seneca Niagara Casino where our string of bad luck gambling continued, then on to a club for some dancin’ and gettin’ wild.
Then on Sunday we decided to cross over into Canada for the day. We made it through the border search legally, and then we moseyed around the Canadian side of the falls before journeying up to Toronto, which was an uplifting experience, then across the Canadian highways to Detroit, then a stop-off for the night in Toledo. Holy Toledo, it was a happenin’ Sunday night and we had a blast in that city.
Monday was our day to head back home, and thus cap off the excursion with a relaxed pace drive across the northeastern Indiana countryside. All in all, I must say the journey was spectacular, and I hope to do it again.

Icky Thump by The White Stripes

I just took a quick saunter by one of my latest digital haunts, londonilly, and discovered a link to check out the new White Stripes tune Icky Thump. Now, I love, love, love the white Stripes, but this track is off-da-chain! I'm not sure how long the link will work, but check it out here before it's too late!