April 27, 2012

One Year Later, Or Last Month

Today marks the one year anniversary of a devasting and widespread outbreak of severe weather across much of the south, resulting in catastrophic devastation and loss of life. At one time, I had begun to prepare a piece for this blog that would look back on that day, from the frantic effort to find a way home across a veritable war zone featuring numerous blocked roads cluttered with downed trees and power lines, to the race to my brother-in-law's house in a failed attempt to patch a roof before the next round of storms, to hiding for the better part of 8 hours in the basement of our home as the darkest of days turned into night. I would have recounted the 7 days without power, the discovery of community among our neighbors, the stories of blessing and heartache and marvel that were born of that experience.

Yet as I sit here, I find that my view of April 27 is clouded - and yet made more clear - by March 2nd. What I could only imagine then, I now know. In the past 8 weeks, I have met several people at the ballfield, at the school, and around town whose lives were changed by April 27. Each conversation, many with complete strangers, was made rich by the understanding and empathy that comes from a shared experience.

As we labor to move on from March 2nd, I am struck by the reality that recovery may take far longer than I expect. To this day, there are still families all around us still struggling to get life back on track after April 27. There are still those who shake in fear at the even the threat of bad weather. Even I have lost my taste for a "good thunderstorm" in recent weeks, and as one who enjoys the science and mystery of weather phenomena, that's saying something. Maybe it'll come back in time, but for now, peaceable weather would be preferred. The point is, I am learning from those who know, that "normal" is a long way off. But I will not lack for hope, and I will remain confident that a restoration is coming. Are we changed? Yes. But we are together, and that means everything.

In closing, I offer the following links below, for those of you who may wish to look back at April 27. God be with you.

My Posts:

  • The post I made just before 1 pm on April 27
  • The day the power came back on
  • When the Lights Came Back On

    Other Look Backs:

  • Huntsville Utilities, TVA overcame long odds
  • A Year Ago Today - al.com
  • Local Meteorologists Look Back
  • Special Report from the National Weather Service
  • April 26, 2012

    Plus ça change ...

    Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. That simple phrase remains one of the very few I can still recall from my days in high school, sitting in a French class taught by a teacher with an Art major and a powerful southern drawl. Such a grand way of saying what we've all heard before: the more things change, the more things remain the same. To the philosopher, it may be one of the most celebrated abstractions used to define the experience of the human condition through the passage of time. To those of a more pragmatic disposition, the notion is so intrinsically obvious as to warrant that other celebrated saying: "Well, duh!"

    I am old enough to have seen the times change, and young enough to not be all that surprised by the fact. For instance, I am old enough to remember the days when TV stations would sign-off at midnight, play the U.S. National Anthem, and shut off their transmitters. I am young enough, however, to recognize - and to a certain extent appreciate - the 24-hr broadcast cycle as a market-driven opportunity. (You know somebody got rich selling all those Ginsu knives that could cut through tin cans and metal pipes and still slice your tomatoes). I would imagine that there are few remaining TV stations that still sign-off that way anymore.

    I'm reminded of the time I lived on base near Grand Forks. Every day at 5pm, the flag would be lowered, accompanied by the playing of the anthem, and Taps, through the system of PA speakers that blanketed the base. Every car, every pedestrian, every kid on his bike would come to a stop where they were until the final note had faded in the wind. Maybe using the word "every" is a bit naïve, but from my vantage point and recollection, I don't recall seeing many violators of that etiquette. Nowadays, I still chafe when I see people talking, cooking, hats-on, and otherwise ignoring the anthem and flag (say, at opening day of little league). I wonder sometimes, if that custom of lowering the colors still continues, in the same way I remember it as a kid.

    I also remember going to the movies on base. Prior to the start of any feature presentation, the screen would fill with the flag, the speakers would pound out a drum roll, and the theater patrons would rise as one as the anthem was played. The memory of silhouettes standing at attention against a movie screen filled with images of national landmarks and flights of Air Force fighters, bombers and tankers is one I'll never forget. I consider myself fortunate to even have such a memory.

    To satisfy my curiosity, I asked the almighty Google if playing and standing for the anthem was still a common practice at theaters on military bases. The results were largely inconclusive, but I saw several references that seemed to indicate that, indeed, this custom remains alive and well. I'm glad.

    Times have changed, and so have people across the generations. This is nothing new. But just as human nature transcends the changing times (in ways both good and bad), so too do certain ideals and virtues. I only wish we could spend more time appealing to that which is virtuous in us, rather than what is base in us.

    The first video below is the video that begat the meandering rabbit trail above, posted by a friend of mine elsewhere. (I say meandering rabbit trail, because as I look at the first and sixth paragraphs, they seem like they should be the bookends of a different kind of essay, rather than the one I've chosen. But this is the path my mind took, so I'll leave well enough alone for now - an opportunity for reuse later). The second video is one I found, that while not exactly the same, is reminiscent of what I remember seeing in the theaters. Enjoy.





    April 18, 2012

    Moyer Wins

    Now here's a man who clearly plays for the love of the game. Jamie Moyer, drafted by the Cubs in 1984 (five years before I graduated high school), notched a win last night for the Colorado Rockies against the San Diego Padres. Moyer broke into the bigs in 1986, and his career now spans 26 years with the Cubs, Rangers, Cardinals, Orioles, Mariners, Red Sox, Phillies and now the Rockies.

    With the victory, Moyer is now the oldest pitcher ever to notch a win in the major leagues, at age 49, 150 days. In a game where the average retirement age is in the mid-30's, Moyer just keeps throwing, finds his way onto rosters, and manages to be effective. He pitches against some players that weren't even born when he first took the mound in the bigs. He currently sits at 268 wins, and while conventional wisdom makes the 300 milestone seem unlikely, I just don't think you want to count this guy out. Why? Because aging body aside, there's this little gem in Pat Graham's article (emphasis mine):

    Moyer ended the threat by getting pinch hitter Jeremy Hermida to ground out to second on a 76-mph cutter.

    That was vintage Moyer.

    With streaks of gray in his hair, Moyer looks like a player who will turn 50 in November.

    But once he steps on the mound that youthful exuberance returns.

    He's transformed into a kid again, sprinting out to the mound after each inning.

    On this night, he looked more like a spry rookie than a veteran nearing retirement - or at least his AARP card.
    Would that we all could approach our jobs, our lives with such exuberance. Or perhaps, maybe we just should. Tip of the cap to you, Mr. Moyer.

    April 16, 2012

    Moon View

    I really love images like this. From the International Space Station:


    (h/t): Universe Today

    April 15, 2012

    Writing Advice from C.S. Lewis

    A couple of weeks ago, I bookmarked another delightful piece of correspondence from Letters of Note, a wonderful diversionary site I find myself returning to on a weekly basis. In this installment, writer C.S. Lewis pens a letter to a young fan that includes some interesting advice on the craft of writing. Lewis offers five suggestions for writers:

    1. Always try to use the language so as to make quite clear what you mean and make sure your sentence couldn't mean anything else.

    2. Always prefer the plain direct word to the long, vague one. Don't implement promises, but keep them.

    3. Never use abstract nouns when concrete ones will do. If you mean "More people died" don't say "Mortality rose."

    4. In writing. Don't use adjectives which merely tell us how you want us to feel about the thing you are describing. I mean, instead of telling us a thing was "terrible," describe it so that we'll be terrified. Don't say it was "delightful"; make us say "delightful" when we've read the description. You see, all those words (horrifying, wonderful, hideous, exquisite) are only like saying to your readers, "Please will you do my job for me."

    5. Don't use words too big for the subject. Don't say "infinitely" when you mean "very"; otherwise you'll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.
    I have yet to decide whether I should figuratively pin this advice to my writing corkboard, even though I recognize that I'm guilty of some of what he suggests are errors. As for the first item, I have no issue. In fact, I could argue that I'm too obsessed with being understood. It is one thing to put together language and words in order to be clear. It is another thing to go on and on, restating the same argument, making a broad and detailed case for the sole purpose of not being misunderstood. Of course, you must then balance this against the requirement for brevity, the so-called economy of words. Not my strong suit.

    His second recommendation simply pains me. While his example is quite clear and apt (who "implements" promises, anyway?), I admit to the joy of an extended vocabulary. There are so many wonderful words that would fail to see the light of day if we limited ourselves to the lowest common denominator in our word choice. I suppose it depends in part upon the style and audience of the written material.

    Number three, I'm in full agreement. I remember school days in which I would attempt to use such constructions of abstraction, mostly in a silly attempt to impress my instructors with the use of "bigger words." However, I believe there is a natural tension here, as teachers often encourage such constructions to encourage the use of a broader vocabulary. You know, the whole "use this word in a sentence" meme.

    The fourth is a matter of art as much a matter of construction. Some writers simply have that gift to make the reader emotionally connect to their material. In visual arts, including video, the artist can make creative use of color and music to create the desired mood or response in the audience. With the written word, I'm not so certain there is such a clear-cut, manipulative formula. It is all in how you tell the story, or whether it is a good story told well.

    Finally, a lesson in the proper use of hyperbole. If you use language at the extreme, then all that is left is absurdity. Our political class could take some lessons from this. Still, the avoidance of unnecessary exaggeration is good advice, except when used as a tool to further the story in a desirable way. But it is a tool that should be used sparingly - if you are telling a tale, or using it to illustrate a point. Exaggeration or hyperbole presented as fact lowers the value of the writing, and maybe even of the writer.

    In the end, the goal is to inform or to entertain, and sometimes both. But to do it well, both the message and the mechanics matter. I have much to learn about each.

    April 13, 2012

    The Future Remains Unwritten

    It is Friday, April 13, 2012, and I do not yet know what tomorrow holds. Funny that such a statement can be made, given how self-evident that is for any of us. Indeed, the title of this post feels a little over the top for its topic, but it works for me, so I'm going with it.

    'Twas Burns that said of mice and men,
    Two hundred years ago
    The best-laid schemes gang aft agley, a
    Truth so wretch'd, bless'd be
    To twist the tack of life we plow!
    I've never been overly keen on long-term planning, in the sense of the "where do you want to be in 5 years, 10 years" variety. It is not that I believe setting goals and having a vision is unimportant - quite the contrary. It is just that over time (and reinforced the last two years in a rather painful manner), I've learned that life has a way of upsetting "the best laid plans o' mice and men." The more detailed you plan, the more likely events will invalidate your efforts. The key lesson (one I often face) is learning to adapt, keep moving and avoiding the trap that leads to paralysis when life takes a hard unexpected turn. I slip into that trap sometimes, especially because I'm typically not a big fan of "change."

    It has been six weeks since we lost our home to the storm. The most frequent question I am asked, and one we ourselves are still asking, "are we going to rebuild"? So much of our focus these past few weeks has centered on the re-establishment of routine, all the legal and insurance matters, and the effort to methodically put our lives back in order. We are back at work. We are living in a rental house. Our old property is cleared of all major debris. We have managed to reduce our salvaged items from 2 10x25 storage units down to 1 (sadly, at least half of what was salvaged so far has not proved savable), but we still have a long way to go. And as much as we have tried to return to routine, life remains anything but. When I am at the office, I find myself preoccupied with matters associated with recovery. When I'm out and about looking at houses, or going through storage, or attending to little things like overdue car tag registrations and the tax assessors office - I find myself fretting about the projects at work that are at risk of falling behind schedule. James 1:8 notes that a double-minded man is unstable in all his ways. While intended for a different context, that verse to some extent does capture the distracted nature of my days. Not much to do but to pray and press through as best I can.

    We have met with one builder, and plan to meet with one or two more. The one we interviewed believes that the existing foundation, aside from some repair and reinforcement, should be safe to reuse if we choose to rebuild. Once we get some cost estimates, we'll have a better feel for what the options truly are. On the one hand, this is a buyer's market for housing. I could even make the argument that it would be far more pragmatic in this economy to buy a house, rather than rebuild, since it is likely that the cost of rebuilding will exceed the cost of buying. And yet, I fully own that land. To not rebuild, I would still incur a cost of restoring it to a condition to sell. The original house plans are sitting here on the kitchen table, and each time we or the boys look at those plans, we talk as if rebuilding is the natural answer to what happens next. And certainly there is more excitement surrounding that path than the one that leads to buying something else. But of course, we miss our home, and this is all indicative of the process in which we find ourselves.

    Soon I hope, we'll be able to choose a direction and start down the path laid before us. We continue to pray, we continue to gather facts, we continue to heal. It'll become clear in good time.

    April 08, 2012

    Bonus: Mr. Blue

    Peter Robinson of Ricochet has a beautiful post today, an excerpt from a book called Mr. Blue, published in 1928 by Myles Connolly. I won't copy the post (it's short, and I encourage you to read the whole thing at Ricochet.com). But I will excerpt just the smallest of portions, if I can:

    He threw his hands up toward the stars: “My hands, my feet, my poor little brain, my eyes, my ears, all matter more than the whole sweep of these constellations!” he burst out. “God Himself, the God to Whom this whole universe-specked display is as nothing, God Himself had hands like mine and feet like mine, and eyes, and brain, and ears!....” He looked at me intently. “Without Christ we would be little more than bacteria breeding on a pebble in space, or glints of ideas in a whirling void of abstractions. Because of Him, I can stand here out under this cold immensity and know that my infinitesimal pulse-beats and acts and thoughts are of more importance than this whole show of a universe."
    Thanks, Peter. Simply wonderful.

    Happy Easter!

    Today is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it! For Christ the Lord died, but He has also risen! And Christ will indeed come again!

    May the joy of Easter fill your heart and your day!



    "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; He has risen!" (Luke 24:5-6, NIV)

    April 06, 2012

    The Death of Jesus

    Adapted from a devotion published in 1996.

    Intense, anguished prayer...."Not my will, Father, but yours".... "Are you the Messiah?".... Shouts, accusations from every direction, taunts..."Let's see a miracle, Son of God!".... "This man is innocent, I will release him".... "No! No! Crucify! Crucify! We have no king but Caesar!"...."I wash my hands of his blood, let it be on your heads".... The robe, the thorns piercing his flesh, the terrible agony of metal grinding through bone, being driven through flesh.... A stranger carrying his cross.... "Don't weep for me".... "Father, forgive them".... "Save yourself, if you are the Christ! Come on, you worthless piece of scum, call for your angels! Come, Oh high and mighty King -- save yourself!! He's quite clever at 'saving' others, but he can't save himself! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!".... "Hey, let's cast lots for these clothes, they'll bring a good price down in the temple market".... "Hey there, Messiah! Come down from that cross and we'll believe you!".... "Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom".... "Today, you will be with me in paradise!".... A darkness deeper than any night fell upon that site. The air became oppressive, stagnant. And as it fell, the people became quiet, the taunting died away, even as evil rejoiced. For 3 hours, the darkness smothered the land. The only sounds were the agonized breathing of the dying. Suddenly, there was a loud cry from the mouth of God, shattering the eerie silence and shattering the hearts of those who heard it. "It is finished." The
    veil was torn in two. A spear thrust into His side brings forth a flow of blood and water.

    The Son is dead.
    It had to be done. It was the only way. Jesus died. He died so that we might live. We can never understand the joy of the Resurrection if we fail to understand the Death. In three days, the Victory was made known. But you cannot appreciate the Victory if you don't experience defeat.

    "Now I have given up everything else -- I have found it to be the only way to really know Christ and to experience the mighty power that brought him back to life again, and to find out what it means to suffer and die with him. So whatever it takes, I will be one who lives in the fresh newness of life of those who are alive from the dead." (Philippians 3:10-11, LB)

    "In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins ..." (Ephesians 1:7, NIV)

    "... and the blood of Jesus, his Son, cleanses us from all sin." (1 John 1:7, NIV)

    "Those who belong to Christ have nailed their natural evil desires to his cross and crucified them there." (Galatians 5:24, LB).

    "I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me;" (Galatians 2:20, RSV)
    Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

    Originally published 05 April 1996. Encounters! Ministry, Copyright © James A. Chase

    April 04, 2012

    1988 Literature Homework

    It was indeed, the year 1988, my junior year in high school. My Literature teacher, whose name for the moment escapes me, had assigned us a peculiar piece of creative writing homework. Our mission (which we were forced to accept), was to perform an act of blatant mimicry using as template the opening free-verse styling of Walt Whitman's 1855 "Song of Myself." It begins, of course, with the notable line "I celebrate myself, and sing myself …." I admit, I do cringe a little at the apparent sound of it, as if it were some sort of braggart's delight. But it is I suppose indicative of Whitman's style, this celebration and wonder of the created individual, and the depth of what and who we are as beings of thought, emotion and essence. Nevertheless, I used the opportunity to speak of what I knew about what I believed to be true about myself at the time. I got an A, of course.

    I never thought I would use something quite like this as a blog post, but given that I hold before me my journal of poems recovered from the wreckage, plus the fact that it has been 8 days since my last post, I figure it would be as good as anything. So for your temporary enjoyment or not, I present "Personal Thoughts":

    I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
    And you too shall know
    That which stirs within my being.

    I sing and I play,
    Losing myself in the beauty of the tune,
    The melodies of the heart,
    The harmonies of the soul.

    I dream,
    Dreams of peace and happiness,
    Bravery and adventure, love and hate.
    Dreams, which are
    The only things which keep me sane, and
    Provide me the escape I need
    From time to time.

    ***

    A child said "What is a dream?"
    Climbing onto my knee.
    What could I say?
    For I have pondered that question all my life,
    And have received no answers.

    Maybe it is the playground of the soul,
    A place where you can relax
    And enjoy yourself without worrying
    About reality and responsibility.

    Or maybe it is an outlet, a bottomless hole
    Into which you can release all your problems
    And stress, perhaps forever, perhaps for good.
    And yet, maybe it is both and more.
    A deep, fathomless question,
    The answer for which is not meant to be understood.

    ***

    I believe a tune is no less than the sound
    Of the Universe,
    The music by which the stars themselves dance
    With their intergalactic grace.
    The melody sings out in the heavens
    Harmony mingles in and out of the Glorious Song.
    A tune of joy, life, happiness,
    And eternal bliss.
    A song that is inaudible to some human ears,
    Yet can be felt within the stirrings of the heart,
    A song from Heaven itself.

    ***

    I understand the need for a dream,
    And the need for a song,
    To cleanse the soul of its worries and strife
    And to relieve the pain of the heart.
    Without these, life would be worthless and hard,
    With no respite.
    If dreams were non-existent, evil would abound,
    Crimes would be committed without
    Regard for others,
    We would have no conscience,
    No consideration,
    No compassion.

    But we do have these things,
    And some of us
    Realize their importance,
    For they, in their own way, make us truly human.
    Yes, I was a rather strange specimen as a 17-yr old. Well. I guess some things don't really change with time, do they.