Nice

"And if you would know God be not therefore a solver of riddles. Rather look about you and you shall see Him playing with your children."

From, The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran

Stopping to Take the Time

Ruthie went to a Rose Noticing Party last week, which, after the fact, she described for me -- sounded about like what you'd expect. They got together -- five or six girls -- and read poetry to each other, possibly tried to channel the ghost of Jane Austin and after a little spring shower the roses, as promised, opened up and smelled good. Sounds like the tea-parties my sister used to have with her stuffed animals, but hey, Ruthie had a great time.

(It makes me very happy that we have the kind of friends who get together expressly to notice roses. I like my life.)

Everyone who went was encouraged to bring something poetic to share, which seems like the kind of thing that's always a good idea. Ruthie considered Robert Frost, (historically her favorite,) and I suggested some Tasha Golden, (Ruthie thought that'd be weird,) before she settled on Emily Saliers. The whole conversation/experience turned last Saturday into Poetry Awareness Day at our house. Here's one that stood out (reproduced here without any kind of permission at all):

Language or the Kiss
by Emily Saliers

I don't know if it was real or in a dream
Lately, waking up, I'm not sure where I've been
There was a table set for six and five were there
I stood outside and kept my eyes upon that empty chair

And there was steam on the windows from the kitchen
Laughter like a language I once spoke with ease
But I'm made mute by the virtue of decision;
I choose most of your life goes on without me

Oh, the fear I've known
That I might reap the praise of strangers
And end up on my own
All I've sown was a song

But maybe I was wrong

I said to you the one gift which I'd adore:
The package of the next ten years unfolding
But you told me if I had my way I'd be bored
Right then I knew I loved you best born of your scolding

When we last talked we were lying on our backs
Looking up at the sky through the ceiling
I used to lie like that alone out on the driveway
Trying to read the Greek upon the stars
The alphabet of feeling

Oh, I knew back then it was a calling that said,
"If joy, then pain"
The sound of the voice these years later
Is still the same

I am alone in the hotel room tonight
I squeeze the sky out
But there's not a star appears
Begin my studies with this paper and this pencil
And I'm working through the grammar of my fears

Mercy

What I won't give to have the things that mean the most
Not to be the things I miss

Unforgiving

The choice still is:
The language or the kiss.

Justin Says That Such Things Can Help

If you'd like to bug one of the Cincinnatuh Public Radio stations to play more Ellery, you can do it here.

There's a Lyric Caught in My Head

"I don't want to do what his father, and his father, and his father did.
I want to be here now."

(Paula Cole, I think)

That's a Nap

Didn't get to bed until after 12:30 after the Comet last night; now here it is 5 AM and I'm up for work.

Gonna be a long day.

Reason I Love My Wife, Number 82:

When she burps she sounds like Chewbacca.

Best Delivered Line of the Movie:

Palpatine's answer when Anakin asks, "Is it possible to learn this power?"

"Not from a Jedi."

(Check out "A Hero Falls.")

Beers with Jared the Other Night

It was good. I miss him.

Hey Drew,

Check this out.

Hooray Beer!

Those Red Stripe commercials kill me.

Little G Says Hey.

The Conversation...

...has moved.

He is Able to Smile.

little freak.

Frothy

If I live to be a hundred, I'll never see a grosser diaper.

And I can hear the comments already, so save them -- you didn't see this thing.

Current Song I Can't Get Out of My Head

"Circle," by Edie Brickell and her New Bohemians

Finally

It's about time.

Top Five Lamest/Most Disappointing Star Wars Characters

1. Jar Jar Binks. WTF was George thinking?! I'll never understand. Never. Wanted to cave his Gungan skull in from the first frame.

2. Darth Maul. The look, the hype, the double lightsaber -- all so promising. No personality and then they kill him. He's barely even in the movie.

3. Mace Windu. What a stiff. Do we blame Sam Jackson or the script? Here's a character we'd been waiting to meet since Back in the Day, and this is what we get? Nerts.

4. Padme. I've said it before and I'll say it again -- how/why do you cast such a fabulous actress and then waste everything but her hotness? Could've been something special. (But you can't hold what could've been on a cold and lonely night.)

5. Wicket. Ugh. Those damn Ewoks. Really? I'm supposed to buy that a herd of rodents could beat a bunch of stormtroopers? Really? Almost ruined Return of the Jedi. I know it's because they couldn't afford that many Wookiees, but come on.

The Circle is Now Complete

Ruthie and I went to see Revenge of the Sith yesterday, (thanks, Dana, for babysitting!). Observations:

**It's very, very good. Good enough, even, to justify Episodes I & II, which were, dollar for dollar, among the worst movies ever.

**I'll never understand why the Powers that Be cast as talented an actress as Natalie Portman and then wrote her such a boring character.

**Hayden Christiansen isn't likely to ever win an Oscar even if he lives to be as old as Yoda, but Ewen McGregor is wonderful.

**It's a happy thing to me that George Lucas decided to leave the opening graphics & music unaltered since the original came out. My memories of that first viewing in 1977 in Louisville with Drew and our dads are very faint, but sitting in a darkened theater as the 20th Century Fox logo comes on and then that old school Star Wars graphic with the music and then the blue lettering...A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far Away...I'm five again.

**On a related note, it was nifty that they used lots of the same 1970's dissolves from scene to scene. Helped hold the whole arc together.

**Pure niftiness it was to see the X-wings and TIE fighters begin to be recognizable. Ditto the way that by the end of the movie the sets and costumes looked like the beginning of Episode IV.

**It was pretty wild to see X-wings and TIE fighters fighting along side one another and to see stormtroopers as "good guys." (Not that this movie lends itself to labels like that. "Only a sith deals in absolutes.")

**Ian McDiarmid was excellent as Palpatine.

**They really did wrap up everything nicely. It all made sense; it all worked. As I was watching it unfold, after waiting for the better part of thirty years, it was almost as if I'd seen it before. Anakin's betrayal of Mace Windu, his battle with Obi-Wan, the assassination of the Jedi, (which felt a bit like The Godfather, though that's probably giving it too much credit,) the hiding of the babies and the exile of Obi-Wan and Yoda. No loose ends. No more leaving questions unanswered for the next movie. Which creates an interesting sort of internal dynamic in me...

**Like I said, I was five when Star Wars first came out and from that first viewing, it was a big deal. We played Star Wars, we listened to the soundtrack, we reminded ourselves that it was called Episode IV, we played with the toys, we acted it out, recreating the scenes as if they were independent episodes, too young to understand how they were connected to each other. And then came The Empire Strikes Back -- 1980 now, and I'm eight and old enough to be developing into the nerd that you now see before you, so I'm reading everything I can get my hands on and still playing hard and wondering what the third movie would hold. Was Darth Vader really Luke's father? What was that about?! Couldn't wait for the next movie. What would they call it? And now it's 1983 and I'm eleven and we thought they were going to call it Revenge of the Jedi, but it's, Return of the Jedi instead, and yes, he's really Luke's father and apparently he's the Jedi the title refers to --get it? -- we were so into it. Bedspreads and wallpaper and lightsabers that actually glowed in the dark (have you seen the $100 versions they have at Barnes & Noble? Wow!). And rumors. Somewhere we got word that it was actually a trilogy of trilogies and that there were three movies to come which took place before what we'd already seen and three that took place after, and we were eager for them. And we waited. And we waited. And they never came. And life got all complicated. There were new schools to attend and treacherous, dangerous social choreography to learn there and people we loved died. There were girls and basketball and good decisions to make and bad decisions to make and there was Van Halen and there was football. We learned to drive and we got in fights and we tried beer and didn't like it and we tried it again until we did. We learned that lots of things could be smoked if you rolled them right and that that's not always a good idea. We learned that our parents weren't always right and somehow loved them more for it. And there was college and there were weddings and jobs and Responsibility and more people we loved died. Somewhere in there we grew up. But always, just under the surface of my subconscious, was the knowledge that there was more Star Wars coming some day. Even when I'd gone years without giving it a conscious thought, it was there. And then it was 1999 and I was so excited to finally have a new Episode that I couldn't admit out loud that it was terrible, but still we were eager for the next one, and then came 2000 and so much changed. A new Life, (a new hope?) a new home, a new job and out of nowhere here's Peter Jackson doing Lord of the Rings and he's absolutely kicking George Lucas's ass and why doesn't George hit him back and the Lord of the Rings movies come out a year apart and they're perfect, and now it's 2002 and Attack of the Clones is bad too, but it's better than Episode I and it's enough that we can't wait for Episode III. And if that one's good enough, we tell ourselves, if that one pays off, it'll make it all worth it.

And it did.

But now there's no more Star Wars to look forward to. For the first time since I was five, it's over. Lucas has been adamant that he's not making Episodes VII - IX. He's done. And it's not that big a deal, but there's a particular feature of my emotional topography that I've gotten used to since 1977 and I'm going to miss it, and that's why I was tempted to get a little misty at the end of the movie yesterday. The end of so much more than just a movie for me.

But hey, I cried at 50 First Dates.

Can Anyone Recommend a Good Biography of Galileo?

A Heads-Up

Good music.

Had Coffee with Tom Powell a Couple Weeks Ago

Tom's one of those people...

"One of which people?" you'll no doubt want to know.

You know, one of those people who won't let you be satisfied with a superficial conversation -- with what Ruthie and I call a "non-conversation."

Not that I'm tempted.

Or that he does it intentionally.

There's just something about him that makes you want to gush all the crap -- and I mean the personal stuff -- that you're normally too self-conscious to gush.

And he seems to want to hear it.

As if he's interested.

In you.

Not in selling you something, or in persuading you to be someone else.

Or in using any of the topics you've brought up as points of entry to talk about himself.

And when I say, (after an hour,) "Dude, why can't I shut up talking about myself?" and feel rude for having just now noticed it, he says, "No -- I like it."

And he means it.

Because he loves people.

I'm a people.

Ben.

So after I've burdened (but apparently not really) him with the long version of most of my current hang-ups about the Church/Christians/Christendom/Evangelicalism/Whatever...

(Tom's church people, but apparently not really)

...we end up, as any such conversation involving me must -- especially in the light of the Wonton having shown up -- talking about me and my dad.

Mleh.

And as a new father, my punchline to this whole long conversation with Tom Powell is,

"I really need this kid to know I love him."

And I'm misting up a bit, which Tom has the grace not to mention.

And he grins, (which helps more than you 'd expect,) and says,

"You don't need this kid to know you love him,

"You need to love this kid."

And I believe him,

Because he's one of those people.

gracias hermano. dios te bendiga

Thank You Shawn!

Shawn spent hours fixing our computer yesterday, and there was much rejoicing.

Hey Perkins, Take THIS Camping!

Why We Watch:

"Bart, we're here to bring you back to the One True Faith -- the Western Branch of American Reformed Presbylutheranism."
--Rev. T. Lovejoy

My Dilemma

If I'm reading I'm not writing.

If I'm writing I'm not reading.

If I'm doing either I'm no good to anyone around the house.

If I'm doing neither I'm not happy.

Anybody See The Simpsons Last Night?

The Day You Thought Would Never Come

Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming Ted Troxell to the bloggery.

(cue the Hallelujah Chorus)

Worth Your Time

Track down the song "No Children" by a band called The Mountain Goats.

How to Have Fun with Your Two-Month Old:

Convince him that your nose is a nipple.

Hooray!

I don't have to work next Sunday!

And in Case You Missed it Buried Way Down There in the Comments Somewhere

Here Goes:

My Top Five Baseball Careers Since 1984

(and they're in order this time)

1. Barry Bonds
2. Rickey Henderson
(large gap)
3. Craig Biggio (yes, I'm serious)
4. Ken Griffey, Jr.
5. (still undecided, but leaning toward) Cal Ripken, Jr.

I Can't Remember...

Who has my Harry Potter 5?

John Irving and the Indigo Girls

I'm Collecting You

For some reason when I was in college I adopted a kind of a cowboy motif for myself; (some of you will remember this and laugh). Whether it was because I'd grown up on John Wayne, or because Garth Brooks had made it cool, (yeah, I know...) or for other reasons that I've forgotten (no doubt the movie Tombstone was a factor), I dressed myself for a couple years in cobra skin cowboy boots, too-tight jeans, a big black Stetson and, when the occasion warranted it, a bolo tie. (I'm ashamed to bring the whole thing up, but I'm going somewhere with this.)

Along with the look went a foray into the music that seemed appropriate. I've seen Alan Jackson. I've seen Charlie Daniels. I still think Randy Travis is cool. I've even seen the aforementioned Garth Brooks, (not knowing at the time that ten/fifteen years later we'd be reaping the sad results of his "Country as Top 40 Pop," but I digress). I especially liked the Judds.

My friend Ted loved me despite all of this nonsense, at a time when I needed someone to, and we spent lots of time together, I trying to get over a bad breakup and he trying to get me to listen to good music. We both met with some success.

One afternoon in particular, Ted told me, (based, as I remember it, on my digging the Judds,) that I'd like Indigo Girls. I'd recently made fun of some acquaintances for going to see the Girls, though I knew absolutely nothing about the band. Ted put on a record called Nomads - Indians - Saints and I was a believer from the first, "Clearing webs from a hovel." Two songs stood out that day: "Southland in the Springtime," and "Watershed," both of which, ("Watershed" especially,) still rank high among my favorites. Here was something truly worth listening to. (If you're not familiar with the Girls, I won't try to convert you here -- if you are, you know what I'm talking about.)

If all of this had happened today, I'd certainly have bought Nomads - Indians - Saints on my way home, but instead it took place in a world before Media Play and Best Buy and I had to track it down, possibly through the Columbia House mail order people. I had a new favorite album. I loved it so much, in fact, that for the better part of ten years I avoided any other Indigo Girls material; I was that afraid of a let-down. I just knew that nothing could measure up to Nomads... and didn't want to face the disappointment.

Then one afternoon several years later, (it was a Labor Day or Memorial Day or some such,) Ruthie and I went to hannaH & Dale's apartment on Greenwich for a cookout that was also attended by h & D's friends Laura and Josh. Laura was (and remains) a big Indigo Girls fan and was very persuasive that afternoon, assuaging my fears and convincing me to give the 1200 Curfews record a listen. This we were able to purchase on the way home and as I listened in the car, I wept for the wasted years. "Ghost," "Galileo," "Least Complicated," this was what I'd been denying myself for fear of disappointment? What a fool I'd been!

Looking back now on that day in Ted's apartment nearly fifteen years ago when he spun Nomads... for me, I can see a more significant event taking place than I was able to recognize at the time. Art can change people, and Indigo Girls have been a big part of Life around here.

Now flashback to several years, circa 1998, and Jared Perkins is recommending a book to me: A Prayer for Owen Meany, by John Irving, in the same confident, "I-love-you-and-I-know-you-well-enough-to-know-that-this-will-matter-in-your-Life" tone that Ted had taken regarding Indigo Girls. I won't take the time to tell the whole story surrounding me and Jared and our discovering that book, (it's long and there's too much there that I'm ashamed of,) but it's probably enough to say that this is the book that inspired the only tattoo on my body. I couldn't put it down the first time through and stayed up late one night to hammer through the last hundred pages or so -- the ending absolutely kicked my ass. Greatest story I'd ever read (and a big part of why we don't use the word "fiction" much in our house). John Irving, I was convinced, was (at least) the Greatest Living American Author. So convinced, in fact, that until just last week I'd avoided reading any of the rest of his stuff. My old fear of disappointment rearing it's head.

But several weeks ago I picked up Irving's A Widow for One Year on tape at the library for listening to in the car. I'd gotten just far enough into it to know that I was going to enjoy it when the tape started to sound all warped and worn out. Crummy technology. Anyway the story had hooked me enough for me to gamble on reading the rest of it, and I wasn't disappointed. No, it's no Owen Meany -- I doubt anything will ever be that Perfect for me again -- but it was very good, (though not for everyone -- this isn't a recommendation, per se). Good enough that I'm on the John Irving bandwagon for good and plan to weave the rest of his stuff in with my continued pursuit of my Pulitzer Project, (which currently has me enjoying Steven Millhauser's, Martin Dressler,) and not be afraid anymore.

Makes me wonder what else I'm missing.

Current Song I Can't Get Out of My Head

"We're All Alone" by Boz Scaggs.

Ruthie Goes Back to Work Tomorrow

It's me and The Wonton together alone all day.

Pray for us.

Cat Stevens this Morning

Very nice.

Stupid Histamines!

I've been gushing snot for a week and don't expect to stop until the middle of June.

One more reason for me to love autumn. (It's a long list.)

Happy Birthday!

Mr. Hoo-Hoo is eight weeks old today.

Blogging Ellery

Sounds like a movie title, doesn't it?

So we rushed from Lyle and Angela's wedding rehearsal to Raymond Walters College to meet my friend Randy for the Ellery debut concert/CD release party. Randy beat us there. Holly and Travis were at the merchandise table; Laura and Rebecca were at the ticket taking table and inside the hall we what seemed like everyone else I'd ever met in my life.

Historically I'm not patient with openers, and was no different with Friday's warm up guy. Don't even remember his name. He was clearly a very good guitar player, and randy dug him alot, but I just wasn't into him.

Then Ellery started. And now I have to quit stalling and try to describe it. Emo Phillips once said that talking about music is like whistling about chickens and now I know what he meant. Except that these particular chickens are friends of ours, so I can't pretend that any of this is even remotely objective.

Random thoughts:

**Tasha's songs leave me -- literally -- sitting on the edge of my seat hugging my own elbows with my mouth hanging open and my skin all bumpy.

**They played "Inside My Head," and, while I'm sure it wasn't for me, I was grateful just the same. I love what Justin does vocally on that one.

**They had a killer band with them Friday and it was really, really cool.

**It's odd that our two friends have a name we can use for them collectively. Even in the paragraph above it was weird to call them something other than "Justin and Tasha." None of our other friends have a name like that. Perhaps we should work on that. And now I have a poster with them on it.

**The name change is a good one.

**For some reason, though I think they only played one song I hadn't heard before, the concert did indeed feel like a debut. This name change is more significant than a name change. (Or maybe it's exactly as significant as a name change.)

**In the four years or so that we've known these guys, they have -- if you'll pardon the cliche -- come a long way. Sitting there Friday, (and now looking back on it,) it's easy to imagine where this might/could go from here, and it's exciting. People ask me at work how big I think Ellery will be and I tell them that it's up to what they (J & T) decide they want. I kept thinking, "Really? We know someone this good?" I'm beginning to understand maybe how all those Norwood Over the Rhine people must feel at thier (ever so wonderful) concerts. This is lots of fun.

More later, maybe; this is hard.

You had to be there.

Come on Guys.

Anybody catch the Reds meltdown last night? Danny Graves is terrible.

I Like to Make Lists

We buy legal pads by the case.

My Current Baseball List

We've been talking alot at work lately about which five position players (no pitchers) have had the best Major League careers since 1984, which is when I date the beginning of my Baseball Awareness. (Yeah, I remember Bucky Dent's homer in '78, but I was six.) The first two are pretty obvious, my number three guy will surprise you if you haven't been paying attention, and we've got a fourth, but are arguing hotly over the fifth, (and could use some nominees if you've got any).

The Guidelines (yes, we're nerds):

**No pitchers
**We're only looking at guys who played the most significant portion of their careers after 1984, which is why guys like Mike Schmidt are out.
**Similarly, guys who haven't been around long enough to evaluate a lengthy career, (think Pujols and Ichiro, both of whom I adore) don't count.
**I don't care how a given career was engineered -- steroids aren't an issue for this particular excercise; just let it go for a minute.
**We're looking for greatness of career, not just who was the best on any given day. (This one will make sense if it comes up.)

I'm keeping our current Top Four to myself for the time being, so as not to pollute any input that may follow.

Top Five things I wish I had Time to Blog About

(in no particular order)

**last night's wedding
**John Irving & the Indigo Girls
**my current baseball list
**coffee with Tom Powell
**Ellery

Instead I will go to work.