In which I contemplate why I've been gone so long

Other people write blogs. Why can't I?

I've had this space on the internet for several years now. I write long pieces on topics near and dear to my heart — editorials, really — every six months or so. But there's nothing in between. No short notes. No mid-range opinions. Just these long screeds every so often.

As you've probably noticed, I don't have time to write a long piece very often. So there is silence, and lots of it, interrupted by large, and often unasked for, pieces of my mind.

I think it might be nice to write something that didn't require me to stitch complex ideas together. May just a few off-the-cuff thoughts here and there — not a magnum opus every time I sit down at the keyboard.

This should hopefully make less pressure on me to create a perfect entry, encourage me to write more often, and allow me to write on more varied, and heck, even personal topics.

We'll see how it goes.

Down, not out

This is a bit of a first. My Internet is down at home, so I'm resorting to my newly acquired Blogger app on my phone to post this. Typing on a 3.5-inch piece of glass is tricky — even trickier when you consider it's in portrait mode. But with patience and the right tools, anything is possible.

I have little to say this outing; only that I am in the end game of a long-overdue week off. Life is good right now. I hope to have more content in the future. For now, I think I'll use the absence of the World Wide Web as a chance to unplug for the rest of the weekend — at least from the Internet.

See you soon.

Imperfect present tense

I had a Facebook “conversation” not too long ago where I confessed to getting old. A friend of mine responded with “it beats being dead,” to which I replied, without thinking, that it did, for a fact.

Another friend immediately (and accurately) pointed out that we actually didn’t know that for a fact. The instant I read his post, I felt a bit like Peter when the rooster crowed for the third time. And I was instantly ashamed.

I was ashamed because I am a Christian. And as such, I’m supposed to know better.

Of course, everyone knows that Christians believe in an afterlife. We believe that what is waiting for us after death is so much better than what we have here that we can’t even imagine it. 

Often, this idea gets over-simplified (or more accurately, derided) by some as “pie-in-the-sky-when-you-die” — an unspecified and intangible reward you get in return for a lifetime of denial, sacrifice and doing what you’re told. And I’m sorry to say that it is the sum total of what some people think Christianity means.

I think it’s more accurate to say that Christians believe that death is the moment that we cease looking at the world through a dirty mirror, as Paul the Apostle famously wrote to the Church at Corinth, and get a look at the way things really are. It’s not just life after death — it’s life as it really is. 

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. (1 Cor. 13:12, NRSV).

Heaven, put simply, is when all of our questions have answers, and when we are reunited with the God we have been, whether we know it or not, yearning for all of our lives.

Before I go any further, I should say that I believe that as an important a concept as heaven for Christians, it is secondary to the much more important question of how we act towards our fellow men and women here and now; we are called to make earth as heaven-like as possible right now, with our work, our love, and our compassion. Simply sitting back, twiddling our thumbs, and waiting for heaven to come to us isn’t an option.

But I digress: I think the reason I gave my casual, off-the-cuff answer to my friend is twofold. First, I am, like most people, seeped in a lifetime of secular thinking, where death is seen as crushingly final. From where we stand now, when death comes, all of your choices end. From the earthbound perspective, the story is over. 

Of course, Christians believe the exact opposite — that death is the moment when the story actually begins. My pastor has a wonderful habit of saying someone who has died has “joined the Church Triumphant.” Apparently, it’s an idea hasn’t fully gotten into my bones yet.

There is a second possibility — that the off-the-cuff, without-thinking answer is much closer to what a person really believes than the reasoned, deliberate one. In other words, with my answer, I revealed that I really don’t believe what I actually profess to believe.

While I concede the possibility, I don’t think this is what’s going on at all. I’ve had ample opportunities during my lifetime to cultivate my innate deist tendencies (I never felt the call of true agnosticism within me, much less atheism). Instead, quite the opposite has happened; as I have gotten older, I have grown in my belief, and my faith.

In the interest of clarity, that belief is best summed up by the concise words of the Apostle’s Creed;

I believe in God the Father Almighty,

maker of heaven and earth;

And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord:

who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, dead, and buried;

the third day he rose from the dead;

he ascended into heaven,

and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty;

from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the holy catholic* church,

the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and the life everlasting. Amen.

Instead, I think there is a third, and much more likely, possibility; that I am simply guilty of having imperfect faith. To quote our friend Paul again, faith “is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1). I have not seen heaven — not in this life, at least — but I really do I believe it exists, for the simple reason that people that I trust — Jesus, Paul, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and others — have told me that it does.

I do not have the faith of any of these men; least of all Jesus, who Paul calls “the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.” Fortunately, faith is a not a quality that one is born with; it is a quantity that is developed, like strength or knowledge. If I am physically weak now, I can exercise, and become stronger. If I am ignorant on a given subject, I can study, and learn. And if my faith is imperfect (a foregone conclusion), prayer, study and fellowship can only increase it. 

If so, maybe next time, simple Facebook conversations won’t trip me up, and I won’t have to use almost 1,000 words to correct what I should have said in 30 or less.

We can always hope.

*We Protestants read this as “universal,” but my Catholic friends can feel free to substitute the uppercase C.

Of Norse gods and flannel Jedis

Friday night, the wife and I went on a long-overdue date to the local movie house. We live in a somewhat rural part of West Tennessee; yet I am happy to say that the local theater now runs 3-D movies. And while I still think the whole 3-D movie thing is a bit overblown, and in no small degree a gimmick by Hollywood to keep traffic flowing to the theaters, I think this is a good thing, in the main — mostly because I no longer have to drive to Nashville to see a film in 3-D, which was the case as recently as two years ago.

On the downside, the local theater isn’t large enough to offer 2-D offerings of the same film for those who don’t like the new format (a non-existent complaint for me — if I care enough to go to the theater at all, it will likely only be for a ‘big’ picture, which I would probably want to see in 3-D in the first place). 

A greater concern is that two tickets to the Friday night 3-D showing of Thor nearly obliterated a $20 bill, leaving only a whimpering portrait of George Washington in its place — which explains nicely why I only rarely go to the movies these days.

So the wife and I have now seen the first of the big summer movies — Thor. I am no one’s comic book geek, as a general rule, but as a fan of stories with at least some element of the fantastical (Star Trek, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, ect.), I find myself following them rather regularly, and consequently, have a passing familiarity with the comic, and the Norse mythos it was based upon. Also, I’ve always been a fan of Kenneth Branagh’s work, so there’s that.

It was, in a word, fun, from start to finish. Chris Hemsworth, whom we last saw as James T. Kirk’s father, is more than up to the task of bringing the son of Odin to life; he is, in equal parts, strong and vulnerable, infuriating and likable, and heroic and flawed. Natalie Portman’s performance was a surprise; she is, for the first time, cute. Thor’s brother, whose name I will not repeat in a nod to superstition, was deftly played by an actor whose name I cannot recall, and am, at the moment, too lazy to look up. In all, it was well worth sacrificing Mr. Hamilton, and I recommend it to anyone interested in an evening’s fun.

Earlier that morning, I had a happy accident when I accidently opened the Disney Parks Blog , which happened to be running a live stream of the opening ceremonies for Star Tours 3-D. I came in just in time to see Bob Iger and George Lucas making a few remarks in front of the attraction. When I went back later (when I wasn’t working), I found a picture of Iger and George standing next to Darth Vader, holding lightsabers.

I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen George with a lightsaber, and I have to say, it doesn’t really suit him. To be sure, no one has earned the right to actually carry a saber more than George, but on him, it looked a bit out of place. I think what threw me off was what he was wearing; jeans and a long-sleeved button-up flannel shirt. Now I know that George has developed a rep for rocking the flannel shirt as his default daily dress, but I’m sorry — lightsabers demand to be paired with a certain look, and “I’m heading down to IKEA to pick up some bookshelves” isn’t it. 

Of course, when George gave himself a Hitchcock moment and appeared in Revenge of the Sith, he didn’t appear in Jedi regalia, but instead dressed as a barely-recognizable blue-skinned alien. So I suppose if he didn’t do it when he had the full might of the Lucasfilm costuming and makeup departments behind him, he can hardly be expected to rise to the occasion for a theme park opening. 

But I’ve got to say, I expect more from a member of the 501^st — even an honorary one.

We could be stuck here for a very long time

Well, I’m fresh from listening to TheForce.net’s commentary on A New Hope, which, by the way, I recommend highly. It was nothing, more or less, than four devoted Star Wars fans watching the classic trilogy together, albeit in separate living rooms, and just talking about what they love about the Saga. There was no negativity, no overt bashing of anything — just lots and lots of enthusiasm. Once again, my perceptions of TheForce.net being entirely staffed by collectors has been challenged.

I’m writing so soon after this morning’s post (nearly all of which I wrote last night) because I inadvertently passed along some false information, in the form of a bit of harmless speculation about George’s 3D plans. And I’d be a lot less depressed if it wasn’t true.

I had assumed that, given the February 2012 date of the 3D release of The Phantom Menace, that George was going to follow the same release strategy he did for the Special Editions — i.e., about one a month. Sadly, according to my new contacts at TheForce.net tell me that it will be more like one a year.

Let’s say that again: One a year.

That means that Return of the Jedi will be released in 2018. My daughter will be in college, and I’ll be uncomfortably close to the legal retirement age. This is most certainly not soon enough for my tastes, and I’m fervently hoping that their information is incorrect.

If it is true, at least I’ll have gotten my full mileage out of the Blu-ray box set. And who knows? I may even have a 3D TV by then.

Hey — it could happen.

A final note before I retire. I have just, moments ago, finished Revenge of the Sith, and by extension, the Prequel Trilogy. The tiny candle flame of detached indifference I began Phantom Menace with has grown over the three films. By the time I finished Sith, I was absolutely riveted, and it was some moments after the credits stopped before I could bring myself to speak. As I said in my last post, I'm definitely back.

I’m working tomorrow night; after that, I intend to wade into the Original Trilogy (the Special Editions, in a concession to George — we’ll let him have it his way this time). If all goes well, I hope to reach Jedi by Sunday at the latest.

I’ll keep you posted.

Well, I’m back

You’ve probably figured out by now, or soon will, that the part of me that’s a Star Wars fan has roared back into life in the past week. I have been eating, breathing and sleeping the Saga since Wednesday. That’s right, the same bit of vulgar fanbase manipulation that caused me to rip on Lucasfilm/Fox in my last post also reminded me of why I’m a fan in the first place. So, the old axiom that good can come from bad is once again proved true.

Since Tuesday, I have returned to a project I have long vowed to accomplish; a viewing of the complete saga, in order. I finished off The Phantom Menace yesterday afternoon, and finished Attack of the Clones just a few moments ago. After reacquainting myself with all six, I plan to go back and linger over each for a time — kicking the tires and so forth. 

It’s been a long time since I watched the films, and my viewing of Phantom yesterday brought home just how long it had been. I have always liked Phantom, even as I was aware of its flaws. I was surprised to find I didn’t enjoy it as much as I have in the past; I had a sense of detachment that was a little disquieting, and I didn’t get caught up in the story the way I once did. In short, I was very aware I was watching a movie, and was unable to lose myself in the story. Clearly, I have fallen far from the faith. But I found Clones to be much more engrossing than I expected, so all is not lost.

I have also returned to watching The Clone Wars on Cartoon Network. I have made the complaint in the past that the reason I don’t follow Star Wars more closely is because I don’t have new things to keep feeding the fire. Well, Clone Wars isn’t a full-blown live-action film, but it is at least something new. Thanks to the Official Site and the blessings of high-speed Internet, I can now get caught up on the second and third seasons, assuming this new interest in the saga doesn’t burn out too quickly.

I suspect that part of the reason for falling back in the habit, apart from the fact that it was simply just time, is that it is summer, or soon will be.

Most of my best memories of Star Wars take place during summer. Obviously, this is because Star Wars films get released in the summer. So when I weathered my first week away from home and family as a Boy’s State delegate, buttressed by a cassette version of The Empire Strikes Back soundtrack and the Brian Daley Han Solo novels, it was summer; when Entertainment Weekly published a cover story on the “new” Star Wars movies being made on the exact day of my daughter’s birth, it was still summer; when I drove to Virginia to see Phantom with my nephews (and fellow Jedi), it was summer again; and when I returned there six years later to attend the midnight screening of Sith in full Jedi regalia, it was, not too surprisingly, summer. In fact, for many movies — Phantom and Jedi in particular, I sort of lived in Star Wars leading up to summer, and well through it. It was, as they say, good times.

So welcome to summer a month or so early! I don’t think we’re in for as deep a journey as I’ve had in the past, but for now, I’m content to saddle up this bantha and ride it as far as it will take me. Next time, I will try to have actual Star Wars content, for you, my patient readers, and a little less about yours truly.

Wish me luck.

Star Wars? What's That?

Welcome back! Hail and well met, all. I have returned after a long absence to throw out a few crumbs of Star Wars news, and maybe — just maybe — get out in front of a Star Wars related story. This post should be good deal shorter than my usual musings, but, I hope that it will be the first in a renewed effort at regular posts. I realize that my past performance of roughly two posts in a year probably doesn't bode well for my future efforts, but what are we if we don't try?

First, I must confess that I am fresh from watching the Royal Wedding this weekend. This was somewhat hypocritical on my part, since, like a lot of folks, I scoffed at the incessant media coverage leading up to the event. But when my wife, a veteran of the 3 a.m. brigade for Charles and Diana's wedding, expressed disappointment that she hadn't been able to watch, we found a repeat of the coverage of BBC America Friday, and gleefully made a night of it. As it happens, I enjoyed myself immensely, from a historic, Anglophilic and (gasp) fashionista standpoint, not to mention the always very great joy of being able to share an experience with my wife. Oddly enough, I still find myself trolling the internet for little informational nuggets on the occasion, and will likely continue to do so for the next week or so. In any case, the whole affair was great fun, and I shall probably look back on it fondly for some time.

All this goes to show what I have long suspected; that my opinion on any given subject cannot be trusted, since I am such an innate snob, and my tastes are so very malleable. Indeed, I have a long history of reversing myself on a number of what I had thought were strongly-held opinions, ranging from my distaste of large churches as a young man (I am currently a member of what just happens to be the largest church of its denomination in my county, which encompasses a building roughly one side of a city block long) to my musical tastes (I initially rejected several bands on first hearing which later became staples of record collection, including Jethro Tull and Pink Floyd). In short, I'm still rather a fool, but am still trying to at least become an open-minded fool.

But I promised short and sweet, didn't I? Very well; to the point. I noticed this morning that on Feb. 10, 2012, George Lucas will be releasing Star Wars: Episode 1 in the theaters — in 3-D, no less. No doubt, this will be followed by Episodes II in March and Episode III in April, leading up to the inevitable release of A New Hope on Friday, May 25 — 35 years to the day after it was originally released in theaters. If this is, in fact, George's planned schedule, then I think we can expect Episodes V-VI in June and July, respectively, which would give us arguably the three best films during the summer blockbuster season.

As a further point of conjecture, I think we can then look forward to a 3D blu-ray release of all six films in time for Christmas. If true, this will annoy me just a teensy bit since George has made rather a habit of milking re-releases of the films in new mediums; witness the multiple VHS versions (at least four different releases of the classic trilogy); two different DVD versions, Laserdisc set, and now, the upcoming Blu-ray release in September.

Before you ask, yes, I am planning on buying the full Blu-ray set when it comes out. Herein lies my problem. I am a "bonus features" junkie, and George has been very sparse with his behind-the-scenes content since hitting it out of the park with the Phantom Menace DVD. In fact, the follow up to Phantom Menace, Attack of the Clones, re-set the bar to an all-time low by using a collection of video press releases featuring the main actors being interviewed about the story as the core of its behind-the-scenes content. Revenge of the Sith got better marks for imagination, showing the roles of the different departments in producing one shot of the film. But the fly-on-the-wall stuff I love so much was nowhere to be seen.

When you add to this the paltry one disc of special features for the entire classic trilogy, I must admit my hopes for George to finally crack open the vaults for some top-notch bonus features are rather high. We will see if he delivers on Wednesday, May 4 (a date yielding the atrocious pun "May the fourth be with you"), when Lucasfilm promises some big news on the subject. That is the story that I have tried to get out in front of, and I will try my best to post some kind of reaction, no matter how short, on the day.

So far so good; on to my teensy problem. There is always going to need to be more stuff to for George to release, simply from a revenue standpoint. So knowing in advance that there will be a 3D version of the films, and knowing that there will inevitably be a demand from the 12 people who own 3D televisions for a home game version, will George follow the lead of films like Tron: Legacy and re-release a Blu-ray box of the 3D films? Likely. Will it have additional content to make compulsives like me need to buy it again? Ah, there's the rub — all indications (i.e. George's previous track record) say yes. Will it make me grumpy if he does? Absolutely.

Be that as it may, we will cross that bridge when we come to it; life is troublesome enough without borrowing more, and there is enough negativity in modern society without me throwing more on the fire — especially about something I purport to love. So, let me end you with the following daily affirmations: I am looking forward to the news on Wednesday, whatever it is, and I am excited about the possibility of being able to finally take my daughter to see all six Star Wars films in the theater.

That's all for this week campers. I doubt that life will allow me the time to make similarly lengthy posts in the future. But at the least, let's all meet back here Thursday — or more realistically, a week from today — and we'll sift through next week's announcement.

Time Out, Part II

"I'm going to do a lot of nothing this weekend," I told my coworkers on the way out the door Friday afternoon. And God, in His wisdom, must have agreed; less than an hour ago, I bent to give the dog a forkful of catfood for her breakfast, and felt the familiar dagger in my spine of my back going out.

Since then, I have tried moving to work the kinks out, but a quick walk up the road got me no further than the neighbor's house. I followed that with a return to the middle of my living room floor, where I intend to pass the morning, at least, before trying additional physical therapy.

I'm not terribly worried about this; although I've been pain-free for some time, my back was in no wise cured, and will likely be an ongoing condition until I have no other option available but surgery. I was told when I got my last round of shots that they could last as long as a year and a half; it has been, by my reckoning, about three months shy of that. I will see what a regimen of rest and low activity does for me this weekend. But if all else fails, all I need do is make an appointment for another round of shots with my surgeon in Nashville.

I must admit, though, the entire process would be a lot more palatable if I wasn't also fighting my way through a sinus headache.

On to other matters; I had intended to touch base this morning in any case, if for nothing else than to say hello. Life has been good lately, and I have much to be thankful to God for. For starters, I am writing again. The outline of a particularly troublesome chapter in my long-neglected novel fell into place as I was commuting to work two days ago, and so I have had a reason to break into my freshly-updated version of my Apple Pages word processor.

I'm also putting a toe in the water when it comes to some old friends. I have been so inspired by the news that "The Hobbit" movie has been greenlit that I have returned to my abandoned promise to re-read the whole "Lord of the Rings" series. This time, my goal is to finish reading the trilogy by the time filming begins in February. I am still a bit anxious about whether or not the movies will, in fact, be filmed in New Zealand, but I am enormously cheered by the news that Martin Freeman will be our Bilbo. He doesn't look as close to the Bilbo in my head as Elisha Wood looked like my Frodo, but it's still a very near thing, and I am greatly cheered.

By the way; I fully expect Peter Jackson to take some of the new footage from "The Hobbit" — particularly Bilbo's finding of the ring — and insert it into the flashbacks in "Lord of the Rings" where he used Ian Holm in a curly wig as a much younger Bilbo. Personally, I think this is an altogether sensible idea, but some of you may be a little squeamish about it (despisers of Hayden Christianson's disembodied head, I'm looking at you). Either way, you've been warned — it's going to happen.

On the music front, I have returned to my track-by-track comparisons of The Beatles stereo and mono recordings. I just finished Sgt. Pepper last night, and will no doubt find some time today to make some headway into Magical Mystery Tour. My sonic forays have been accompanied by readings in a couple of Fab Four-related birthday presents; The Complete Beatles Chronicle by noted Beatles historian Mark Lewisohn, which is a day-by-day account of The Beatles' entire professional lives; and The Beatles: Anthology book; an impressively-detailed first-person history of The Beatles, by The Beatles, and the last piece of the Anthology project I had yet to own. There's also Beatle Gear, a well-researched book examining all aspects of The Beatles' instruments — probably boring as watching paint dry to many folks, but irresistibly fascinating to an old guitar slinger like me.

On the Star Wars front, I am very close to a long-overdue viewing of the Original Trilogy. I have two yet-to-be-achieved goals in my DVD-watching life; watching all three Lord of the Rings movies back-to-back, and an uninterrupted viewing of all six Star Wars films. I may try the former sometime before the first "Hobbit" movie is released (or immediately after seeing the second one), but have no firm timetable for Star Wars. I only know that I want to remember what I liked about the Saga. In order to do that, I have to begin at the beginning, which is the original three movies, without the special edition treatment, thank you kindly. I still intend to sit down and watch all six movies, in numerical sequence, as George intends them to be seen. At the moment, though, I'm not in a place where I can watch The Phantom Menace without wishing I was watching Empire instead.

Finally, we come to Disney. I am pleased to report we just obtained the BluRay/DVD combo pack of Beauty and the Beast. Since we don't own a BluRay player yet, I can only report on the DVD content, which is bare-bones compared to the BluRay stuff. As someone who decided, back in the day, that they needed Beauty and the Beast on DVD a couple weeks after the company put it "back in the vault" (a forced-scarcity policy on Disney's part that I heartily loathe), though, it was nice just to have it again. Happily, the new DVD contains everything that was on disc 1 of the original release — namely the original theatrical release, special edition version and "work in progress" version. The budding Disney animation geek in me loves this last version, since it gives a peek behind the curtain at the animation process in real time. The polished, final animation periodically drops out, to be replaced by rough-outs, storyboards, pencil sketches and other steps in the hand-drawn animation process. It can be a little jarring if all you want is to get caught up in the story. But if you're a fan of the movie-making process, as I am, it's great fun.

A little later, my daughter and I are going to do a little theme-park planning. This isn't the logistics and pricing exercises I spoke of in my last post. Instead, it will be a simple comparison of what attractions we want to see in what park; a little 'let's pretend' exercise that may help us narrow down what we want to do when we finally do arrive at the parks. All in all, fodder for a good, relaxing afternoon at home.

So that's life this week. I may be sidelined, but at least I'm not bored. And, God willing, I'll be back in the line up sooner rather than later.

Gone, but not forgotten

I just wanted to tape a quick note to the virtual refrigerator to let all four of my readers know that I have not forgotten my posting responsibilities here. My life has been very good of late, but also very hectic, so when the muse has struck, I'm usually too busy to heed it. Inspirations and blog-worthy notions that have bounced off my cranium during my morning commute have usually been forced into a back corner of my brain when I get home, if not forgotten entirely.

By way of a quick update on a previous post — namely electronic books — I will mention that I am discovering that having a portable device, such as a Kindle or iPhone, makes a world of difference in their appeal. Since getting my iPhone more than a month ago, I have found that the experience of e-book reading is enhanced greatly by being able to hold the thing in your hand, as opposed to hitting an arrow key on a keyboard. The portability is also a plus; I've been able to find times to read — while waiting at the pharmacy, for example — that would have been lost to me otherwise. On the down side, an eBook on an iPhone is still not the immersive experience that a real ink-and-paper book is.

As far as fandoms go, I have been a Disney geek for the past couple weeks. I am in one of my period phases of planning our next trip to see the Mouse, which usually involves the nasty sticker shock of pricing different accommodation scenarios. We've resolved to stay on property this time, which while appealing to the Disney geek in me, is also more expensive nearly any way you slice it.

This, then, is a brief snapshot of my life on these, the Ides of October. I will try to post a lengthier treatise in the future; until then, adieu.

Fresh resolve

I used to read.

I used to read books compulsively, as easy as breathing. When I was a teenager, I picked up a fresh book before the next one was cool. It was a wonderful time — I had friends like Heinlein, Tolkien, Adams and Vonnegut, not to mention a brace of science fiction and fantasy greats.

Later, after I married, I let my wife suggest some books to e. I Read Rice, Irving and a few others. After college, I tackled Tolstoy, and tried (and failed) to follow it up with Dostoyevsky.

I fell in love with Lewis, and spent several years pouring over his books. I also got caught up in some popular bestsellers; Rowling and Meyers come to mind.

Gradually, though, my reading became a special occasion rather than a way of life. I read when I wanted to share something someone else was reading, or I nibbled at books in a hot bath. But I didn't devour books anymore. I left several books half-finished. Finally, even the books I would classify as "easy reads" seemed too formidable for me.

I blame the Internet.

The same perfectly-made tool that's allowing me to post this on the World Wide Web has made it far too easy for me to take the Internet with me wherever I go. As a result, I use it — very likely much more than I should.

As a consequence, I've been feeling a little part of me slowly dying. I haven't been aware of it for long, but it's similar to what I felt when I noticed that my love of music was mostly dead. A disquieting sense that something that I used to like about myself, something important, was withering and dying. And, growing by degrees, a sense that I didn't want it to.

The pebble that started the avalanche was a post on News, Weather & Sports by one of my mentors, Neil Peart of Rush. He was talking about time machines of all sorts — cars, songs, photos; things that take you back in time, or make you aware of the passage of it. One of Neil's time machines of choice is are books, and he illustrated the point with a fat stack of nine books represented his reading list for 10 days one February. He talked in glowing terms about the worlds that lurked behind the spine of each book, waiting to be discovered, its contours mapped out individually inside your mind. And he alluded to notion that, if there really was a heaven, it might just consist of endless time by the fire, with nothing to do but turn pages.

I was inspired and intimidated at the same time.

Inspired because I immediately wanted to started checking books off my reading list. Intimidated because reading has always been kind of an effort for me, and the stack of books he was going to take down in 10 days would have taken me two months of vacation time. Maybe more.

It's not my reading speed, which is serviceable, if not spectacular. It's because often when I'm reading, there's always the restless notion that I should be elsewhere, doing something else. Usually, it gets the best of me, and I wind up doing just that. Add to this my regrettable tendency to get stalled halfway through a book, walk away, and usually never return, and you wind up with a person that doesn't get a lot of books finished.

The last time I had a good read was more than a year ago, when I literally had nothing else to do. Then, I did read nine books, but it took me a  little longer than ten days. I was flat on my back, recovering (or trying to recover) from a ruptured disc. Reading seemed like an excellent use of my time. And it was, but after four months, I eventually had to get better, and go back to work.

And that's a good thing, as far as it goes. But Neil's picture made me realize that it was time to get back to work in another way. And finally, two days ago, I yielded to the impulse.

I started by dusting off my Goodreads account, which I hadn't updated since finishing The Book of Mormon in October. My "currently reading" section had five books, four of them quite cold. I decided to pull those for the time being, and start with some new fare. And since I think the fact that I try to take down so many books at once is also to blame, I have decided to try to limit what I read at any given time.

At my wife's suggestion, I've decided to break my literary fast with something light, enjoyable, but with that hint of the fantastic I enjoy so much The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan. Also, there's a borrowed copy of The Complete Beatles Recording Sessions by Mark Lewisohn. Then there's the Phil Yancey ebook Prayer that I started a few weeks ago. And, of course, my copy of the Wesley Study Bible that I will never officially finish, but can't bring myself to take off the "currently reading" shelf. Because, like, you know, I'm currently reading it.

So that makes, ah, four books. Well, that's one less than five.

I'll keep you posted on my progress, dear readers. Until then, happy reading.

Glad tidings

Slightly less than two hours ago, my daughter was baptized by immersion in the waters of Kentucky Lake. Next week, she will formally join the congregation of the church we attend, along with other members of her confirmation class.

In the words of my pastor, "Let the people say 'amen.'"

Heavy weather

Well, as many of you have no doubt heard, we've had our share of weather this weekend. My family and I have just returned from an overnight 'holiday' at my parents house, after a 10:30 p.m. tornado warning  prompted us to take shelter. I could make glib remarks about the time, or complain about the fact that because it lasted until 5:30 this morning, we weren't able to judge about whether we needed to take shelter or not. I could do that, but the fact remains that I am eternally grateful that I have someplace to take my family in the event a tornado decides to drop in.

And brother, do we get tornados. Tornados seem to really like the town that I work in. I've personally covered five of them for my newspaper, and have developed a deep, abiding hatred for them. And yes, I mean hatred. I know it's bad sport to hate anything, much less something that came from the hand of God, and I'm sure he knows better than me. But I've developed an actual hatred of tornados. I've only seen a handful of smashed houses — places where nothing but the sheer violence of wind created a soggy debris field of wood, insulation, clothing, photos and all the other things that people own spread hundreds of feet across their neighbor's bean field. But those few times have been enough to make me hate the word 'tornado.'

But I digress; the point of this post is simply to let everyone know that we're fine, and to say "goodness, we certainly are getting a whole lot of wet." We were obliged to go to town yesterday, and I must say I haven't seen flooding like that in the entire time I've lived here. We had to take an alternate route at least once because of submerged roads. The parking lot of The Catfish Place, a popular local eatery, was entirely submerged (needless to say, they were closed). And the creek that borders the back yard of my daughter's best friend's home had risen all the way up to the house. When I was there, the muddy water rushing through the yard made it look like they'd built on a river bank.

So we have had an interesting time here, but all are safe. By the way, the title of this post is a twofold musical reference. For starters, Heavy Weather is the title of a Weather Report album (that I do not own).  It is also a lyric from the Jethro Tull album Heavy Horses (which I do own — picked it up in England on my honeymoon). The phrase comes from the title track.

Bring me a wheel of oaken wood
A rein of polished leather
A heavy horse and a tumbling sky
Brewing heavy weather.

Stay dry, everyone.

Mini movie review — "The Da Vinci Code"

With my daughter staying the night at a friend's house last night, my wife and I decided to watch The Da Vinci Code for the first time. Thanks to donations from family members, I have had a hardback edition of the book, as well as an audio cassette version, for several years. However, I had become resigned to the fact I was never going to read either one, and that the movie version in this case would do just fine.

As a movie, Da Vinci works pretty well; it's suspenseful, and has an interesting narrative and subject matter. Plus, I like the idea of a symbologist as an action hero. The scenes illustrating his thought processes as he tries to crack a puzzle are pretty neat to watch.

An impressive stable of actors has been recruited here, and the performances are pretty solid throughout. Particularly enjoyable for me were the always-impeccable Sir Ian McKellan and the likewise first-rate Paul Bettany. Jurgen Prochnow was also enjoyable in his role, as was Alfred Molina.

That said, a lot of the plot twists were seen coming a mile off, both by my wife and myself, so there were few real surprises. Most alarming, it plays extremely fast-and-loose, and somewhat cynically, with church history. Some of the conclusions it takes are decidedly from a certain point of view, and, just based on my limited knowledge of the subject, it takes a cafeteria approach to both gnosticism and some of the so-called "missing" gospels. I'm no one's expert on that subject, but from where I see things now, it seemed as if they were taking a lot of things out of context to try to justify their conclusions.

So, overall, as a movie, I give it a solid B, but a theological and historical D-.

In the present moment

I went walking today. This is nothing unusual, especially for someone who is medically required to exercise if he doesn't want nasty things to happen to him. Again. I have a favorite walking trail two miles from my workplace, and it makes a nice break in the day to get away from work, and put myself in the midst of trees, water and sky. I liked to do this before my forced vacation, so, again, nothing unusual there.

What made today different is I noticed noticing things. The past two days, I stepped down onto the gravel track, and been met with the warm, moist smells of the vegetation; no doubt pounded into the air by the sun. I have been struck by plants I have walked by hundreds of times, yet am only now seeing. And I was very surprised today to learn just how much I enjoy tramping through the heat. It is, in a way, cathartic to feel the way my body responds to what are, frankly, dangerous levels of sun and humidity. I find myself responding to it the same way I do a hot bath, or a sauna. It was tiring, and a little draining. But I find I am beginning to enjoy exercise. Just a little.

On my commutes back and forth to work, I find myself seeing trees and plants that I have gone past before — in this case thousands of times — only now, I see them. Now, I care that they're there. The other day at choir, I had to take a moment, leave my seat, and walk down to a place where I could see the light playing through the stained glass windows. Just a minute ago, I finished off a long day at work by coming home and winding up on my knees in front of my trailer, helping my wife plant purple Iris bulbs. We were frantically digging in hard clay, trying to beat the storm clouds before they drenched us. It was hard work, more than a little tiring, and I loved every moment of it. Well, maybe not the part where the dogs kept trying to lay in the holes on top of the Irises so we'd pet them, but it didn't matter — I was gardening. I was finally unleashing my inner hobbit. Or, at least, a part of him I didn't give vent to in college.

The point of all this is that I seem to find myself alive these days. The Buddhists, who I admire a great deal, might call this condition awake. Mind you, I don't think I'm truly awake, by Buddhist standards. After all, I just powered through three southwest chicken tornados, seven cheese pizza roles and a grape popsicle I barely noticed — not a very mindful way of eating. But I suppose it's a start.

Another seal of approval

Friday night I took Yvonne out for her Mother's Day present; she had wanted to see X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and told us both that was what she wanted for Mother's Day. Naturally, Amy and I were happy to oblige such a simple request.

Although we were both tempted to skip straight to Star Trek and see Wolverine on DVD, we stuck to the plan. I am pleased to report that although I don't think it's quite in the same league as Trek, Wolverine is a worthy addition to the X-Men film canon, and just plain old fun at that. I was never bored, Hugh Jackman carries the movie convincingly, and I genuinely got a kick out of some of the side characters — most especially Remy LeBeau. I have heard Yvonne speak glowingly about Gambit for years, but never knew what the fuss was about until now. I mean, really — how impressive can a guy be who's main power is throwing playing cards at people, anyway?

As it happens, pretty darn. Ably played by Taylor Kitsch, Gambit pretty much picks up the movie and walks away with it every time he's on screen. This is quite a feat, considering that most of his scenes are with Hugh Jackman — the guy who did the same thing every time he was on screen in the original X-Men film. Also particularly noteworthy is Liev Schreiber's Sabretooth. The movie would not have worked if Schreiber had not been as convincing in the role as he was.

So, we're two for two on summer movies this year. I'm doubly happy because, now that we've seen X-Men, the deck is clear for our second crack at Trek, which should take place sometime during Samuel & Aleatha's World Tour 2009.

After that, I don't care what I see. A third viewing of Star Trek, maybe?

I hate waiting...

Doing some virtual pacing again tonight. The verdict from the surgeon, as I think everyone knows, is another type of shot. I leave for Nashville at 3:30 tomorrow morning. I greatly appreciate the support and prayers I've gotten up to this point, including the shout-outs on the last post from the Ohio contingent. I have a feeling of peace about it. Except for the nerves. Which, as I think about it, is perfectly normal. Needles. My spine. Oh, yeah — gimme some more of that.

As a reward for being a big boy, I am planning on seeing the new Trek movie with my wife and best friend the next day. Yvonne has made me aware that I may feel like twenty-five pounds of broken glass the next day, so I am forced to concede that it might be a later date. But I will see it as soon possible. And as soon as I do, I will, of course, let my loyal readers know if it meets my approval.

Until then, adieu.

The necessary preparations

I am keeping watch over my daughter as she stays up entirely too late with homework assignments, and trying not to think too much about the appointment with the surgeon I have tomorrow. Since I'm starting to dislike the fact that I'm only managing one post a month, and that being a rather drawn-out affair, I thought I might try shooting from the hip for a change.

I have achieved a milestone today. I have, for the time being at least, all 79 episodes of the the original Star Trek, as well as the first pilot, on my iPod. Not to mention each of the movies that I currently own on DVD as well. It's a dubious achievement — I mean, really, do you actually need the entire series? Can you possibly watch them all?

The easy answer is no. But there is a method to my madness. I am, by this time really excited about the new Trek movie, which as I write this, debuts in just a few days. In part, having the entire library of classic Trek makes it easy for me to "get back up to speed" on the original series. After so many years, there's a lot I've forgotten. Since I have a lot of time on my hands these days, it also gives me something to fall back on, entertainment-wise.

Also, as someone who used to be dependent on the whims of syndicated television for my weekly fix of Trek, there is something both decedent and powerful about having the entire series in my pocket at my beck and call. It's the iPod syndrome again, I'm afraid.

On a somewhat less pragmatic tack, it is also, in part, fanboy training. The days of work that went into loading the iPod was kind of a geek Mount Everest, and just the sort of senseless and time-consuming work I needed in order to feel like a "real" fan again. Because that's what real fans do — they spend time, money and effort on seemingly silly things, simply because it makes them feel like more of a fan.

Finally, and least logically, it is a good luck charm — a talisman of classic Trek to ward off the specter of what could be another Star Trek V — or worse. In any case, it was what I wanted to do.

And it seems to have taken my mind nicely off of the fact that tomorrow morning I am going to hear of the unknown and permanent things that a perfect stranger plans to do to my spine.

Here's hoping that both the back and the movie turn out well.

Spare no expense

A few days ago, I was writing an e-mail to my nephew who's a mission for his church, and I happened to use a title — Good Morning, Good Morning — that was a Beatles reference. This is nothing unusual for me; I was literally raised from a toddler on The Beatles, and they were hugely important to me during my days as a musician. Today, they hold an exalted place in my musical pantheon, and it's nothing unusual for me to drop a Beatles reference every now and then.

Little did I know I'd be predicting the future. That very morning, a very short time after the e-mail left my computer on its way to California, I got an e-mail of my own from none other than The Beatles. 'Cause, you know, we're just that close.

It seems the folks at Apple Corps. thought I should know about the long-awaited remasters of the band's catalog, which will be released on Sept. 9, 2009 (09-09-09). There will be complete remixes, in both stereo and mono versions, of all of the original releases, along with the singles collection Past Masters. There will be a full stereo boxed set of all the albums, including a DVD about the recording of each album, as well as boxed set of mono releases. The Beatles actually preferred to work in mono, and, according to my research, weren't involved in the stereo mixes. So not only is the mono version what the artist preferred, my readings also tell me that the next mono mixes reveal things that listeners may not have noticed before.

In addition to being a Beatles freak, I'm also a latent audio snob. If there's a chance that I can wring something new from a recording of a band I really, desperately love — in my case Rush and The Beatles — then I'm there. The CDs that we have now were released in 1987 (the year I got married), and represent state of the art digital remastering for that time. Problem is, it's been almost 22 years since "that time" — less than the time it took the 8-Track tape format to be introduced, become popular, and die a richly deserved death. I'm thinking that maybe they've learned a few things since then.

So the fact that I have to have these new recordings is a given.

For most people, this would mean buying the individual discs, especially if you don't have an oil well in your backyard generating a steady supply of disposable cash. And, in fact, I'm still slowly replacing my Rush CDs with remasters, and have about 9 to go. Those came out at least four years ago. So, any normal person would be content to buy one or two new discs a week, getting to know each new recording before moving on to the next.

Like I said, any normal person. But this is me we're talking about.

For some reason, I have it in my makeup that when it comes to something I truly love, I have to have the ultimate version of it. You say the boxed set has a few extra features you can't get elsewhere? I'm there. You say the mono set is being created for collectors, and will only be available for a limited time? Who do I make the check out to?

If I have my way, on September 9, or shortly thereafter, I will be the proud owner of both the stereo and mono boxed sets. Realistically, it may be after Christmas before I achieve both. Either way, economically, this is going to hurt — I don't spend such sums on myself lightly, and we are talking something that is going to cost hundreds of dollars. Since I've been off work for so long, we'll just be getting back to normal when this hits. So why am I doing this?

Because, for me, it's the right thing to do.

One of the things I have learned from my wife is that sometimes, doing the smart thing with money isn't necessarily always the right thing. My wife and I are far from millionaires. Heck, we're not even middle middle class. Yet we have taken two trips to Disney World — an enormously expensive place to hang out — in the past five years. Why? Because to us, the memories are more important than the money. Because our quadrennial pilgrimage to The Happiest Place on Earth gives us all something to look forward to, and to get excited about planning together. And because, long after my daughter has moved on to a life of her own, we will all three share the bond of what good times we had as guests of the Mouse.

I could, and probably will, devote an entire post to the subject of why I think Disney World is important, both personally and in general. Here, it serves to illustrate the point that sometimes you have to suck it up, and sink large sums of money into things that will only serve to make you and your family happy. Because, let's face it, few retired couples sit on the front porch having conversations like this:

HE: "Say, you remember all the groceries and household items that we bought instead of taking the kids to Disney World?"
SHE: "Do I ever! It took me five years to use all of the laundry detergent we were able to buy."
HE: "Yep. We had the cleanest sheets in three counties. And how about all that diet soda we bought? We were burping for a year!"
SHE: "Those were sure some good times."
HE: "How are the kids, anyway?"
SHE: "Now you know they haven't spoken to us since they moved out after high school."
HE: "Oh, how could I forget. Hey, pass the diet soda!"

I'm being extremely flip, obviously (a character flaw), so please forgive the sarcasm. And I'm not suggesting for a moment that money should not be used wisely and prudently; babyfood should always take precedence over a remastered copy of "The Essential Jimi Hendrix." But part of that prudence is occasionally using it for the simple task of making yourself and your family happy. My master, C.S. Lewis, was sharply critical of the puritan concept of denial for denial's sake, and wrote glowingly of the need to foster those things that give you honest pleasure. And who am I to argue with my master?

I do not covet this for the sake of that most elusive of goals — a "complete collection." Since I want these new sets for the genuine pleasure of listening to it, and the joy of rediscovering something that is of immense importance to me, then I am content that my motives are pure.

Of course, it's equally possible that six months from now, I'll be found locked away in a dark room, clutching both sets to my chest and whispering "my preciousss" to myself over and over. But that's a chance I'm willing to take.

Time out

Sorry it's been so long since my last post. Ain't it funny how time slips away?

I have been taken out of the race by a ruptured disc. By doctor's orders, I am laying on my living room floor, surrounded by books, DVDs and iPods, and watching a DVD of 101 Dalmatians.

Okay, so the doctor just told me to lay on the floor. He didn't say anything about the DVDs, or any of that other stuff. Oh, yeah, and he gave me drugs to take, and told me to stay here for two weeks.

Since I have been put in the penalty box for 14 days, I am going to try to catch up on my reading. This means studying my Bible, but it also means returning to my place in The Lord of the Rings. I had just arrived at "A Shortcut to Mushrooms" when I lost the track. My wife also wants me to follow her into the Twilight series. I am loath to pick up another series when I'm trying to make my way through Tolkien, and I've never been much for vampires. Still, I may humor her, just so she'll have someone to talk to about the series.

One of the blogs I follow, 2719 Hyperion, has a fascinating post on the myth that Walt Disney once owned the rights to make a movie of The Lord of the Rings. Of course, Disney never actually even approached the professor for the rights, after his story department (I think, correctly), told him that the story was too unwieldy for a feature film. Then there's the not-too-surprising revelation that Tolkien had a "heartfelt loathing" for Disney's treatment of fairy tales and faerie creatures.

As a lover of both Disney's and the Professor's works, I thought the post was fascinating food for thought. What would Disney's artists and storytellers have managed to create with the wealth of imaginative imagery present in the Professor's masterpiece?

A disaster, I am quite sure. Disney would have stripped Tolkien's story down to its barest bones, and slapped on the carcass his own unique artistic vision, leaving something that resembled Tolkien only superficially. P.L. Travers, who Walt wooed for years in an attempt to get his hands on her Mary Poppins stories, was, according to many accounts, heartbroken by the treatment of her story. The friction between Disney and Travers was well-documented, and somewhat nasty. The clash of ego and artistic vision that would have surely happened betwen Walt and the Professor during the creation of Walt Disney's The Lord of the Rings would been an epic battle the like of which the world has never seen.

In the end, I think we can all be grateful that such a battle never had cause to come to pass. Jackson's films, despite their flaws, are head and shoulders above anything that the Disney studios could have produced. The Tolkien books have too much detail, and too intricate a plot, for the Disney treatment. Nearly all of the classic Disney films that I can recall at the present were adapted from shorter fare — short stories and fairy tales. I don't think even a longer story, such as The Hobbit, would have fared well at all as a Disney film.

That's all for this week, campers. If you need me, I'll be here on the floor. Mind your feet, please.