Overflow

I am trying Haloscan for a while to see if it will be more a bit more reliable than enetation for my commenting system. And quietly I’m making plans for the rehosting of this blog which I can see is now inevitable. I don’t want nothin’ fancy. Just something that is reliable and not so crowded it runs slowly.

Problem is finding time to do it. Of course that’s the problem with most of my project list.

Halloween is a lot like the Christmas season.

There are a number of different groups of people celebrating around the same time for different reasons. Just like at Christmas time, there are a number of different religious holidays and observances that take place around Christmas time and it’s important to know what you are and are not celebrating.

Today is, for us Catholics, All Souls’ Day. It’s a day when we remember and pray for the dead. Tomorrow is All Saints’ Day, when we go to Mass and celebrate the Communion of Saints. Pagan sects such as Wiccans also observe this day, but for other reasons. Satanists, or so I’m told because I have not researched this, also observe this day for their own reasons. Our observance of this day is not an endorsement of their observances nor are theirs an endorsement of ours.

****** Update: All Souls’ Day is November 2nd. Oops.

Just like around Christmas time, the majority of regular people partake in the fun of the Halloween season that surrounds the observances and traditions, some of them pagan, some of them Christian in origin. Most people who observe Christmas observe it this way — it’s not a particularly religious holiday for them, but they enjoy the fun and tradition associated with the season.

Halloween is like that for us — we enjoy some of the fun of trick-or-treating, carving pumpkins, and dressing up in costumes but do not subscribe to any of the religious belief that originated the traditions.

Halloween should be fun and, as long as you know which things you are actually celebrating and which things are just secularized fun, it is not “against our religion” like some kids at school will tell you.

But there is one real gift of Halloween to give praise for. A long time ago, people were in real fear of their lives on All Hallow’s Eve or Halloween. Today is is mostly just fun.

The fact that we can scare ourselves for fun, the fact that we can confront demons and ghosts and laugh at them, the fact that we don’t *really worry* that a disembodied soul will take our body on All Hallow’s Eve, is a testament to the reassurance and protection our faith gives us. We know that as long as God is real, these things hold no power over us. We have the luxury of laughing at death for one night a year.

So it’s okay to dress up on Halloween as someone or something else — as long as we are firm in the knowledge of who and what we really are.

The Family

From Whence She Came

I saw “Mr. Deeds” last night. You know how a movie can be so bad it’s good? This wasn’t that kind of movie at all. It was just bad. I’m not even going to link it from this page.

There was this one scene which was kind of amusing, where Adam Sandler and his new buddies were singing “Major Tom” while on a helicopter to New York. And then today I heard Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” and was reminded of the scene in Almost Famous where everyone on the bus sings that song and quits being mad at each other. That was a great scene — one of my favorite movie music moments.

So, like the borderline obsessive that I am, I began to try to think of my other favorite movie music moments, like:

The scene in Wayne’s World where the guys in the car are jamming to “Bohemian Rhapsody.”
The scene in the Big Chill where they are making a Spaghetti Dinner and dancing around singing “My Girl.”
Tom Cruise in Risky Business dancing in his skivvies singing “Old Time Rock n Roll.” (and Ron Reagan spoofing that scene later on SNL)
The scene in “My Best Friend’s Wedding” when everyone at the table spontaneously sings “I Say A Little Prayer For You” to Julia Roberts.

So what are yours? It’s a fun little pop culture exercise worth a few minutes conversation over dinner tonight. Now to narrow the choices and make it more interesting, here are the Movie Music Moment rules:

It doesn’t have to be a good movie obviously.
It can’t be a musical.
The music must be worked into the scene, not on the soundtrack in the background.
The characters must interact with the music in some way.
That said, it can’t be a movie about musical performers like Fame or The Rose ’cause then it’d be way too easy.

I’ll strike the most obvious one off the list — The “play it again Sam” scene from Casablanca.

I went looking for Rosalinda this afternoon to give my hair and beard the favorite aunt treatment, but she doesn’t work on Tuesdays. I need to remember that. So I walked down the strip to see if Mr. James could fit me in. Mr. James is the guy who cuts Mr. Freshpants’ hair so well.

Mr James does not give haircuts; Mr. James cuts heads. Mr. James does not wear a nametag. Mr. James’ shop does not have “ambiance.” Mr James does not sell designer hair products. Mr. James cuts heads, that’s all

Mr. James looks like he stepped out of a Spike Lee movie. Mr. James listens to Jazz as he cuts. Mr. James likes to talk about basketball and the weather. Mr. James wears a baseball cap, two earrings in each ear, and four or five gold chains around his neck. And he was on my head for about thirty minutes this afternoon.

Mr. James is not gentle. He doesn’t come close to the favorite aunt style. He cuts you more like I imagine my old football coach might if his hands were more nimble and if he were painstakingly meticulous. Mr. James will give you a good haircut, but there’ll be a certain amount of pain involved. Mr. James knows you’re a man and you can take it.

Mr. James knows what will make you look good. He’s been cutting hair for over twenty years and he *knows*. He doesn’t ask what size guard you want your beard trimmed with. He doesn’t ask whether you want a round or square back. And of course you want hair gel.

Mr. James takes charge. He left me feeling high and tight, but a bit shorn. If there is a hair on my head above my collar, it’s because Mr. James allowed it to remain. My head feels disciplined.

If we could splice genes from him and Rosalinda, we’d have the perfect barber. The next best thing, I guess, is to have them cutting in shops a few doors down from each other. I’ll never go to Supercuts again.

I was just reminded of an old favorite recording of mine that did not make the format conversion from cassette tape to CD. I haven’t heard Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells in forever, but it’s one of my all-time favorite instrumentals.

This time of year is the season for Tubular Bells, or at least the first few minutes of it. It’s better known as the theme from “The Exorcist” and is associated with Horror. But if you listen for the entire twenty-something minutes, you’ll hear a work that is inventive and at times humorous and a bit bizzare in spots.

Hmmm, I wonder what else in my album and cassette collection did not make the format jump. This, I feel, is a legitimate use for P2P music downloading. I have already bought the music, but don’t have the equipment to go from cassette to CD. I’m hitting my P2P source to see who has Tubular Bells.

Come to think of it, most of my Kronos Quartet is on cassette too…

It’s back! Arts and Letters Daily has been saved from bankruptcy by The Chronicle of Higher Education.

There are nicknames you choose, nicknames that are chosen for you, and the ones that just emerge as endearments used in daily life with those who love you. I noticed that all of my kids have endearment nicknames in my mind. Girlzilla is “Kiddo”, Mr. Freshpants is “Buddy”, and Petunia has become “Girly Girl.” I have no idea why.

Last night’s game seven was the first baseball game in years that I actually sat down and watched with interest in years. Maybe since the last time the Astros had a chance. Anyway, I was very glad when the Angels won.

But then they cut away to the Giants’ dugout and there was this little black kid, couldn’t have been more than four years old, crying his eyes out. Looked just like Mr. Freshpants in a baseball outfit. That took a lot of the joy away from it for me.

I’m sitting here listening to Peter Gabriel sing “In Your Eyes” and that song always reminds me of the scene in “Say Anything” where Lloyd Dobler is standing in front of his car holding up his boom box playing that song, trying to get his girlfriend back.

And then I think of my favorite line from that movie, where Lloyd is talking to Diane’s father and he says, “What I really want to do with my life - what I want to do for a living - is I want to be with your daughter. I’m good at it.”

I couldn’t appreciate that line when I first heard it, but being married fifteen years now, it’s modern day Gospel. Lloyd Dobler is my hero. A patron saint of dedicated husbands everywhere. I want to be the world’s foremost expert in how to love my wife.

And I’m thinking this as I sit here listening to music at my computer, reading email. Sometimes prayers come from left field.

You know it’s going to be a fun day when you’re accosted the minute you walk in the door, before you have a chance to put down your things, by a coworker who says, “Oh, so *there* you are!”

Critical problem on a Sim for a Shuttle Mission coming up in 17 days, a critical processor hung and had to be killed and restarted. My processor. Managers wringing hands, wanting status before I had my morning coffee.

With help from some coworkers, I managed to come up with enough of the answer to:

1) Convince them it wasn’t a critical problem.
2) Show it’s not my fault. At least so far.
3) Allow me to go home instead of working the weekend.

Things are looking up. Have a nice weekend.

Like just about everyone else, Heidi and I loved My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I think I know why this was a hit. Good romantic comedies are pretty common, but this one was more of a romance about family — how you can love them, be with them, and want to run away from them screaming all at the same time. It was about the balance between being your own self and being your family and how you really have to be both. It was about how the best families are wonderful and maddening at the same time. It was about my family too.

The movie made me really look forward to my Thanksgiving trip to the Clarks’ big gathering up yonder in Oklahoma. It’s so big we have to rent out a place for us to meet. One Grandma, eight kids, twenty-six grandkids, of which I am one, and I cannot count the number of great-grandkids. That’s not counting spouses, friends, second cousins, pets, and anyone once-removed. People eat in shifts. Children run in packs. Work crews have to be recruited for cooking, cleanup, and childcare. Even when ninety percent of the little kids are happy, that means at least five or six tots are crying somewhere at all times. It’s a big happy, sloppy, drawly family feast.

The Clarks are game players. If you have four people standing around, why, you have a game of Spades, why aren’t you playing? The clattering of dominoes is even more prominent than the crying of babies. And the Clarks, though they are basically loving compassionate Christians who live Jesus’ message of love and forgiveness in their everyday lives, all that stops at the edge of the gaming table. Clarks are ruthless gamers and sharp-witted card players and you learn to develop your sportsmanship skills playing with them. Can’t be a sore loser, cause you’ll probably do a lot of losing. And you learn not to be partners with Uncle Mike, who goes Nullo with the King of Spades in his hand, or his son Tim who inherited his dad’s bravado. They’d rather lose than be bored, apparently.

I am proud to be a Clark. My dad lived in a tent when he was a baby. The Clarks started off dirt poor, Great Depression poor, hunt squirrels for food poor. And from humble beginnings my Dad and his siblings went on to become doctors, engineers, and self-made entrepeneurs. I have one cousin whose parents home schooled him through the college level (yes, you can do that) and he started what has become a multi-million dollar computer business. I am not self-made. I got my start from my family and I don’t want to ever forget that.

Sure our family has its share of Black Sheep and ne’er-do-wells, but it’s all good when we sit down to dinner and say grace. And yes, there are some fundamentalist elements in the clan — the kind that’ll corner you and start quoting scripture at you and asking if you’re sure you’re “saved” — that used to scare me in my less sure-footed days. And we have our eccentrics, like the uncle who lived in a metal portable building like the ones you can buy at Sears, with a large satellite dish right outside. But the eccentricities add character to a family that has lots of character.

That said, I realize I have the perspective of a person who lives ten hours away and who doesn’t dwell in the maddening mess of family with the gossip and fighting and being all in each other’s business every day. And at the end of the Thanksgiving visit I am always ready to take my paltry little family in our quiet car to drive toward home.

But the movie made me smile and look forward to being in the midst of my big country-kitschy clan. I may even buy myself a pair of overalls, just for the trip.

People. Fellow Christians. Can we talk? This is one of my biggest Christian Busybody pet peeves. Let’s look at the pattern here: Girl brings home a book targeted toward adolescents with some arguably inappropriate (but hardly uncommon for kids of that age) talk about sex. Mother gets up in arms and protests to the library, calling it “smut”. Mom calls for ban. Library refuses. Ensuing controversy increases demand for book and increases the book’s popularity.

This is a very familiar pattern. How about this scenario instead: Girl brings home a book targeted toward adolescents with some arguably inappropriate (but hardly uncommon for kids of that age) talk about sex. Mother discusses why the language is inappropriate with daughter, tells her to return the book, and guides her to more appropriate reading material. Book stays in relative obscurity.

In other words, let’s all raise our own kids okay? I stay abreast of what my kid is watching, reading, and listening to and Heidi and I are the first and only censors Girlzilla needs. I don’t want other adults, or my child’s librarian, to make the decisions for me or my child. I’d like the freedom to decide that a particular book or show is okay to watch despite some “adult” elements. For instance, we let our nine year old Girlzilla watch the R-rated movie “Men of Honor” because of its message about hard work and determination despite the absolutely filthy language that she under threat of life and limb was not allowed to even think much less utter. She thought it was a great movie but complained about all the cursing. That’s my girl.

This goes for the Internet, Cable TV, and video games. Don’t let them use these unsupervised. If you want to fight smut, reduce demand with a family-level boycott instead of stoking it up by making a big stink. I, for one, plan to be a big meanie when it comes to my own daughter. I don’t care what “all the other kids” get to watch and do as reported to us (indignantly) by Girlzilla. But I recognize that as their parents’ fool-ass right to screw up, er, raise their kids as they see fit.

So, you media watchdog do-gooders out there, I appreciate your efforts when it comes to keeping me informed. Thanks for telling me which movies depict sex, which rap songs idolize gang-banging, and that Harry Potter books depict witchraft. Informatioin is a tool I can use to make better parental guidance decisions. But I won’t sign your petition to ban X, no matter how awful X may be. I’ll decide for myself and my child, thanks. I’ll fight X by not giving it my money, time, or undue publicity.

It is hard to find
A man who has desire
For what he has not tasted,
Or who tastes the world
And is untouched.

-Ashtavakra Gita 17:4-7

So, isn’t this the same as being “in the world and not of the world”? I have gleaned lots from other religions that enriches my experience of Christianity, (which always brings me closer to concluding that our differences are basically cultural and historical) especially from Buddhism. But nowadays there is lots of Buddhist, especially Zen, pseudo religious-kitsch, which indicates that the influence of Buddhism on American spirituality is on the latter half of the S-curve. So, as is my bent, when something gets too popular I look to move on.

Hinduism, with its many deities in one God, which for me resembles our Holy Trinity, is a new, heretofore un-kitsched vista of spiritual exploration. Christianity is my home, but occasional travel can help one appreciate and enrich one’s understanding of home, right?

This poem by Edward Estlin Cummings is my favorite ever.

i am a little church(no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
-i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april

— e. e. cummings

It is a prayer I pray often. For me, the ‘little church’ metaphor is not such a metaphor.