New loves, and old

I am in the midst of enjoying my Father's Day weekend, but wanted to take a break from being spoiled royally rotten to update my loyal readers on a couple of budding interests of mine (pun at least partially intended — see next paragraph).

As the prospect of returning to work loomed large on my horizon, I was suddenly struck with an appreciation of growing things. I have always loved nature, and find trees both comforting and fascinating — when I take the time to notice them, that is. And I have always regretted that I wasn't one of those people who spent their weekends canoeing, hiking or climbing things.

One morning, a couple of weeks ago, I was enjoying my wife's flower boxes on my front porch and the slight valley that is my privilege to view every day, when I was suddenly struck with the notion that this — the plants thriving under the morning sun and the birds wheeling in the sky in the valley — was what was real. The day-to-day things that we humans put importance on are often little more than complicated games compared to the world that God has put around us. If we were all to disappear tomorrow, the myriad of green, growing things, and the multitude of life moving and breathing amongst them, would continue with barely a blink. I actually found it to be a comforting notion, and I was reminded of Matthew 6: 26-34, most strongly the "consider the lilies of the field..." passage (although, as I re-read the passage while I'm typing this, I would been very moved by the part about the "fowls of the air," as I distinctly remember watching the birds soaring across the fields before me. It was a very strong lesson in the true place of anxiety and our often-misguided priorities in the face of God's kingdom, and I hope, a lasting one.

Since that moment, I have been cultivating an interest in things that grow (another pun — sorry 'bout that). I have started paying attention to the species of trees that surround me every day, thanks to a field guide loaned by my father, and I am slowly learning the types of flowers my wife has planted on the porch (and how to care for them). Not only that, but I have actually purchased two house plants, and am trying my best not to kill them. So far, they are cooperating by continuing to live.

In short, I think I might be in the nascent stages of becoming a gardener, but it's too soon to tell.

The other interest is in Le Mans Circuit racing. Briefly put, this is a type of racing in which four different classes of modified or purpose-built sports cars race at the same time. In two of the classes, GT1 and GT2, the cars are recognizable as coming from street-model cars like Corvettes and Porches. The other two (and my favorites) are "Le Mans prototypes," which feature cutting-edge engineering, new automotive technologies, and high top speeds. The circuit is based in Europe, and its jewel is the Le Mans 24 Hours, a venerable 24-hour road race held at the famous 8-½ mile Circuit de la Sarthe track in France. The race is made of about 55 teams of three drivers sharing one car, aided by a small army of mechanics and engineers, each trying to drive as far as possible in 24 hours.

I got hooked on the concept when I was on my back, after I watched a film called "Truth in 24." Available as a free download on iTunes, the film tells the story of last year's race. Something about the whole thing grabbed me, and I was fortunate enough to be able to watch about 10 hours of this year's race in between celebrating my daughter's birthday. Many people would find this tedious (including, apparently, the bulk of my countrymen, since it was virtually ignored outside of the Speed network). Not me. I was enchanted by the drama and flow of the race, and I am looking forward to following the rest of the season. I even have a favorite driver (Allan McNish of Scotland) and team (Audi Sport).

The discovery of Le Mans reminds me very much of the sort of excitement I felt many years ago, when I was a growing figure skating fan. I eventually fell away from that sport when it became clear that it would never shake itself free of the politics it was mired in — politics that often impacted the final results more than the quality of the skating. But the general emotions I'm feeling are the same — mostly excitement at just how much there is to learn about this new sport, and wonder at how much I'm enjoying it.

Finally, for the old. I have been pleasantly reminded of my past this week. My wife stumbled across a PBS showing of Chess in Concert. Chess is a musical — nearly an opera, really — about two world chess champions from the US and Soviet Union in the late 70s and early 80s. I became a fan after I was introduced to it by a friend (who also did a fair job of turning me into a fan of the game), and I subsequently introduced my fiancee to it. When we were on our honeymoon in England, we were fortunate enough to see it performed at the Prince Edward Theatre in the West End. In retrospect, having seen it at all is something of an accomplishment, since the show only lasted three years there, and a retooled version for Broadway audiences closed after only eight weeks.

Suffice it to say, the musical is a dear favorite of ours, both from a shared artistic fondness as well as a sentimental attachment. Our copy of the Chess CD seems to have taken a walk sometime in the past 21 years, and it was a delight to hear the songs again in such capable hands as Idina Mendez, Josh Groban and Adam Pascal — the latter of whom is in my opinion the best actor to play the American champion since Murray Head, who created the role. He may even be a little better, but don't tell Murray that.

Anyway, my wife and I are resolved that we have lived without the Chess soundtrack for far too long, and we intend to replace it this weekend. The only question we have to debate is whether we want the original, or this newer version. Decisions, decisions …