My brother hooked me up with some music in college by The Young Fresh Fellows "Sounds of the Northwest." The introduction sounded like something from a filmstrip or an old tourist film--with tracks of seagulls, crashing waves and a ferry horn. I loved listening to this while in my Midwest exile, as it reminded me of home.
Today I was reminded of the smells of the Pacific Northwest as my olfactory nerves drifted me toward memories from the years of traversing the lands of the South Puget Sound. The landscaping material known as "beauty bark" sits in huge mounds in my rental complex waiting to be laid out. I smelled the stuff long before I saw it on a walk this morning. I thought of all the smells that I smelled here, different from all the odors of South Dakota and other places in the Midwest.
+ Tacoma Aroma (a distinct and pungent odor, maybe something like "Sex Panther" cologne)
+ A faint smell of the various evergreen trees combined with the dampness after a rain.
+ The air of the Salish Sea, a bountiful combination of sea life and brine--yet not quite as strong as the ocean.
+ The powerful spring blossoms of April and May.
+ Fresh scones from the Puyallup Fair.
+ Fish and clam chowder cooking at Ivar's.
+ The thin coolness of the Alpine air in the Cascades.
+ The powerful smell of hops coming from the many local breweries over the years. In my youth, it was Olympia and Rainier. Now it's Red Hook.
I could live without Tacoma Aroma (it's not as bad as it used to be in the 70's and 80's), but the bark, dampness and evergreen scent takes me to a better place.
I am also reminded of the smells of my Midwest exile:
+ The smell of hog processing at the John Morrell plant in Sioux Falls (aka "The Morrell Smell).
+ The smell of heat, corn and humidity all over East River South Dakota.
+ The smells of harvest time--processing hay, corn, soybeans, wheat and other grains--it almost inspired me to think of whole grain breads and a stew full of vegetables. That smell helped me find joy, exhilaration and relief for finally feeling a chill in the air after 6 months of heat.
+ Manure
+ The overwhelming smell of grasses that go absolutely crazy in the spring after laying dormant all winter.
+ The almost complete lack of odors (outside of manure) during a harsh winter.
The only time I enjoyed the smells of the Midwest was during the harvest time--about an 8-week period where I watched the hard work of people who help provide our food. People worried, celebrated and toiled with passion. I disliked the smells for the most part, and the harvest time almost made up for it. I appreciated those smells, but the smells of the Northwest can never be replaced.
Showing posts with label Midwest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Midwest. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Politics (entry #6 in the Madhouse Gazette South Dakota Lexicon)
South Dakota has a strange love affair with U.S. Senator John Thune (at least as seen by the rest of world). Many people can't understand why South Dakota would vote out Tom Daschle, someone with seniority, clout, influence and good leadership (okay, he had a hard time doing his taxes, but what politician doesn't), and vote in John Thune.
For any South Dakotan, the political move from Daschle to Thune makes perfect sense. The folks of the Northern Great Plains strongly believe in their values and way of life, yet they struggle with their image when their perspectives move to a national stage. This conundrum of belief and identity are residual effects of the Scandinavian concept of Jante Law. Jante Law is an interesting variable considering Daschle's political fall: I remember that South Dakota public discourse and conventional wisdom said that Daschle was getting "too big for his britches." He needed to be voted out. It didn't matter that Daschle was Senate Majority Leader, accomplished much for South Dakota through his position, and was a marginal presidential candidate--Daschle had to be taken down a peg or two. It didn't help matters that he was a Democrat, either.
The love being articulated for Thune sounds a little like Brokeback Mountain, with which people in the state tried to distance themselves through vitriol and condemnation. I had to laugh when I read the commentary on Thune's rising prominence in the aforementioned link. While I lived in South Dakota, I found the politics maddening. Now that I'm on the outside looking in, South Dakota politics are interesting.
Thanks to Allison Kilkenny's recent blog post referencing Thune for the inspiration to reflect upon my life with South Dakota politics.
For any South Dakotan, the political move from Daschle to Thune makes perfect sense. The folks of the Northern Great Plains strongly believe in their values and way of life, yet they struggle with their image when their perspectives move to a national stage. This conundrum of belief and identity are residual effects of the Scandinavian concept of Jante Law. Jante Law is an interesting variable considering Daschle's political fall: I remember that South Dakota public discourse and conventional wisdom said that Daschle was getting "too big for his britches." He needed to be voted out. It didn't matter that Daschle was Senate Majority Leader, accomplished much for South Dakota through his position, and was a marginal presidential candidate--Daschle had to be taken down a peg or two. It didn't help matters that he was a Democrat, either.
The love being articulated for Thune sounds a little like Brokeback Mountain, with which people in the state tried to distance themselves through vitriol and condemnation. I had to laugh when I read the commentary on Thune's rising prominence in the aforementioned link. While I lived in South Dakota, I found the politics maddening. Now that I'm on the outside looking in, South Dakota politics are interesting.
Thanks to Allison Kilkenny's recent blog post referencing Thune for the inspiration to reflect upon my life with South Dakota politics.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Autumn (Entry #5 in the madhousegazette South Dakota Lexicon)
Autumn in South Dakota is a season that can produce some of the most glorious colors on the planet--about every 6 or 7 years, or if you don't blink during a few choice days in the month of October. South Dakota specializes in Earth tones, especially Eastern South Dakota--with the dearth of evergreen trees and lack of sizable aqua-topography--one has to learn to appreciate Earth tones or go crazy.
The leaves changing color can be quite beautiful. However, multiple variables must align:
1. Wet summer. Possible.
2. Cool and/or low wind September. Less likely than #1.
3. Low wind October once the leaves actually turn color. Almost impossible.
In order for autumn beauty to last more than 3 days, these three variables must align. A stiff wind (almost constant) can take down awe-inspiring color in about 3 days. I remember being thankful to be in South Dakota during the autumn months--when the cool down finally comes (ahhh)--then I have my hopes dashed with the first big wind from the Northwest comes and the leaves fly through the air in a Technicolor (fall version) display (amazing in its own right) and the landscape turns to a depressing drab that is only moderated and made peaceful and calm by the first beautiful snow.
I didn't realize the brevity of glory in a South Dakota autumn until I returned to the Pacific Northwest, where the fall colors have surrounded me in what seems to be like strategic stages of color turning for about 3 weeks--with one tree on WA-16 that continues to greet me in varying lipstick shades of red for going on 2.5 weeks. I keep waiting for the autumn glory to be complete, but it keeps on going. South Dakota colors are comparable, but maybe their short annual visit has made me appreciate my return to the PNW even more.
The leaves changing color can be quite beautiful. However, multiple variables must align:
1. Wet summer. Possible.
2. Cool and/or low wind September. Less likely than #1.
3. Low wind October once the leaves actually turn color. Almost impossible.
In order for autumn beauty to last more than 3 days, these three variables must align. A stiff wind (almost constant) can take down awe-inspiring color in about 3 days. I remember being thankful to be in South Dakota during the autumn months--when the cool down finally comes (ahhh)--then I have my hopes dashed with the first big wind from the Northwest comes and the leaves fly through the air in a Technicolor (fall version) display (amazing in its own right) and the landscape turns to a depressing drab that is only moderated and made peaceful and calm by the first beautiful snow.
I didn't realize the brevity of glory in a South Dakota autumn until I returned to the Pacific Northwest, where the fall colors have surrounded me in what seems to be like strategic stages of color turning for about 3 weeks--with one tree on WA-16 that continues to greet me in varying lipstick shades of red for going on 2.5 weeks. I keep waiting for the autumn glory to be complete, but it keeps on going. South Dakota colors are comparable, but maybe their short annual visit has made me appreciate my return to the PNW even more.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Favorite Autumn Drives and the Fall Soundtrack
I have driven copious miles recently. Some open road driving with my family (about 3500 miles) and the most frenzied set of back and forth, traffic-weaving, kid-toting, commuting I've ever done. What keeps me more than sane in that environment is my favorite time of year--the fall color display. I will plan my life around seeing some fall colors. Sometimes I take pictures, sometimes I soak in the cool atmosphere with those I love. I could easily say the Northeast US has the best fall colors (always great, but somewhat impractical for me), but I also have other favorites:
+ Northern Minnesota around Bemidji
+ The Minnesota River Valley between Mankato and New Ulm
+ The Cumberland region in Middle to East Tennessee
+ Virginia, especially around the Blue Ridge Mountains
+ Heading toward Northern Wisconsin from the Milwaukee metro toward Ripon and Green Lake.
I forgot how great the fall colors could be in the Puget Sound region. WA-16 on the Kitsap Peninsula has quite a display of fiery orange and red fall maples with a nice contrast to the evergreens. This display reminded me of how much I did take for granted--Mt. Rainier with the Puget Sound, color burst maples, evergreens and the Olympics--all mysteriously cottoned with fog, as if Bob Ross and God worked together to burn the images in my brain. My photography can't do this justice. I need to stop and at least try.
Some songs play better for me during the autumn months. I like bluegrass this time of year and almost anything with steel guitar. I don't know why. There's a few other songs that seem to register as well. My Fall Soundtrack:
Let Me Touch You For Awhile--Alison Krauss
Gravity--Alison Krauss
Jessica--Allman Brothers
Ramblin' Man--Allman Brothers
September--Earth, Wind and Fire
Avenues--Whiskeytown
Best of Luck--Nickel Creek
Lonesome Wind Blues--Rhonda Vincent
It'll Never Be Thru With Us (Until It's Thru With You)--The Wilders
That Old Time Religion--The Wilders
Green and Gray--Nickel Creek
+ Northern Minnesota around Bemidji
+ The Minnesota River Valley between Mankato and New Ulm
+ The Cumberland region in Middle to East Tennessee
+ Virginia, especially around the Blue Ridge Mountains
+ Heading toward Northern Wisconsin from the Milwaukee metro toward Ripon and Green Lake.
I forgot how great the fall colors could be in the Puget Sound region. WA-16 on the Kitsap Peninsula has quite a display of fiery orange and red fall maples with a nice contrast to the evergreens. This display reminded me of how much I did take for granted--Mt. Rainier with the Puget Sound, color burst maples, evergreens and the Olympics--all mysteriously cottoned with fog, as if Bob Ross and God worked together to burn the images in my brain. My photography can't do this justice. I need to stop and at least try.
Some songs play better for me during the autumn months. I like bluegrass this time of year and almost anything with steel guitar. I don't know why. There's a few other songs that seem to register as well. My Fall Soundtrack:
Let Me Touch You For Awhile--Alison Krauss
Gravity--Alison Krauss
Jessica--Allman Brothers
Ramblin' Man--Allman Brothers
September--Earth, Wind and Fire
Avenues--Whiskeytown
Best of Luck--Nickel Creek
Lonesome Wind Blues--Rhonda Vincent
It'll Never Be Thru With Us (Until It's Thru With You)--The Wilders
That Old Time Religion--The Wilders
Green and Gray--Nickel Creek
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Memories from first half-marathon
Race day is a top ten adrenaline rush experience. The anticipation and nerves, athletic ability of competitors and challenge, and the variation in people watching for me is fascinating. The running crowd is not like the usual crowds I see. I am not part of a running club, and church isn't exactly a fitness haven, though my dear wife and I have noticed that Northwest pastors are a much more fit bunch than Midwest pastors.
Memories from the Super Jock and Jill Half-Marathon (run and walk) and 4-mile run:
* I ran across a female runner nursing her baby before she ran the half-marathon.
* The atmosphere produced varying degrees of rain for about 3/5 of the race. I found it refreshing most of the time, though the accompanying humidity kept me plenty soaked.
* This was a large half-marathon--I think they said it was the 33rd annual race. It takes quite an effort to pull off something like that. I think I saw at least 20 police officers directing traffic on the course that traveled through Woodinville and Bothell. When I had the energy, I said thank you to the police officers and volunteers sharing a cool cup of water. One police officer said I was doing a good job. I gave him a thumbs up and said thanks. He said "keep it up. You're doing what I can't do." He smiled his encouragement was one of the many things that kept me going.
* I hit a wall about mile 10. I was by no means going fast during the first 10 miles. But the last three miles about all I could manage was jogging 200 yards and walking 100. I think what zapped me was that I was a little dehydrated--I hit all the water stations, but I could have used a few more sips. I lost 7 pounds during the race, and after my recovery I'm still down 4 pounds. I didn't do any hill training for the race and I could have used some. The course hit the hilly UW-Bothell campus--I didn't attack the hills, and I only ran about 2/5 of them, but I need to do a few more hill workouts for my next race.
* My last 3 miles put me in somewhat of a competition with a race walker. I didn't get a look if he was registered for the walk or the run. But I would go into my slow jog and pass him. Then I would walk and he would pass me. I wasn't totally dead by this time of the run, because I still managed to pass a few people in the final 3 miles.
* There was an odd free food offering at the end of the race. I picked up a hand-crafed chocolate raspberry doughnut. I couldn't bring myself to eat it, but someone in my family appreciated it.
* I missed my cheering section during this race. I didn't know the course all that well, nor did my dear wife--and with the rain, it seemed like it would be a wasted effort to have a cheering section. But my dear wife and daughters took the trip with me to Woodinville, sent me off with love and encouragement and welcomed me back. Daughter #1 really likes these races--I think I'll sign us up to volunteer sometime.
* My recovery is going well. I feel a little achy, which is helped by some ibuprofen and some short walks to keep out the stiffness. I must have been clinching my shoulders, because my trapezius ache a little. During the race all I could feel cramping was my hip flexors. I will be ready for a short run either tomorrow or Thursday. Thanks to .Jeff Galloway's training program I'm not going out of commission just because I ran a race. I'm spent, but I can function.
* I'm going to look for a 5k to run sometime around Thanksgiving. I want to do some longer cross training, so I definitely don't want to train for a longer race. I'm looking to go biking on Fridays with my new day off and pull along daughter #2 on the copious trails in the area.
I will compete in another half-marathon, I'm just not sure when or where it will happen.
Memories from the Super Jock and Jill Half-Marathon (run and walk) and 4-mile run:
* I ran across a female runner nursing her baby before she ran the half-marathon.
* The atmosphere produced varying degrees of rain for about 3/5 of the race. I found it refreshing most of the time, though the accompanying humidity kept me plenty soaked.
* This was a large half-marathon--I think they said it was the 33rd annual race. It takes quite an effort to pull off something like that. I think I saw at least 20 police officers directing traffic on the course that traveled through Woodinville and Bothell. When I had the energy, I said thank you to the police officers and volunteers sharing a cool cup of water. One police officer said I was doing a good job. I gave him a thumbs up and said thanks. He said "keep it up. You're doing what I can't do." He smiled his encouragement was one of the many things that kept me going.
* I hit a wall about mile 10. I was by no means going fast during the first 10 miles. But the last three miles about all I could manage was jogging 200 yards and walking 100. I think what zapped me was that I was a little dehydrated--I hit all the water stations, but I could have used a few more sips. I lost 7 pounds during the race, and after my recovery I'm still down 4 pounds. I didn't do any hill training for the race and I could have used some. The course hit the hilly UW-Bothell campus--I didn't attack the hills, and I only ran about 2/5 of them, but I need to do a few more hill workouts for my next race.
* My last 3 miles put me in somewhat of a competition with a race walker. I didn't get a look if he was registered for the walk or the run. But I would go into my slow jog and pass him. Then I would walk and he would pass me. I wasn't totally dead by this time of the run, because I still managed to pass a few people in the final 3 miles.
* There was an odd free food offering at the end of the race. I picked up a hand-crafed chocolate raspberry doughnut. I couldn't bring myself to eat it, but someone in my family appreciated it.
* I missed my cheering section during this race. I didn't know the course all that well, nor did my dear wife--and with the rain, it seemed like it would be a wasted effort to have a cheering section. But my dear wife and daughters took the trip with me to Woodinville, sent me off with love and encouragement and welcomed me back. Daughter #1 really likes these races--I think I'll sign us up to volunteer sometime.
* My recovery is going well. I feel a little achy, which is helped by some ibuprofen and some short walks to keep out the stiffness. I must have been clinching my shoulders, because my trapezius ache a little. During the race all I could feel cramping was my hip flexors. I will be ready for a short run either tomorrow or Thursday. Thanks to .Jeff Galloway's training program I'm not going out of commission just because I ran a race. I'm spent, but I can function.
* I'm going to look for a 5k to run sometime around Thanksgiving. I want to do some longer cross training, so I definitely don't want to train for a longer race. I'm looking to go biking on Fridays with my new day off and pull along daughter #2 on the copious trails in the area.
I will compete in another half-marathon, I'm just not sure when or where it will happen.
Sunday, September 06, 2009
An enjoyable Saturday of chores, family and football
Though the outcomes to Saturday's games were not ideal, that was a relaxing and productive Saturday. I watched bits of several games:
Syracuse/Minnesota
Navy/Ohio State
Notre Dame/Nevada
Oklahoma St./Georgia
Washington/LSU
I washed, dried, folded and put away 7 loads of laundry, cleaned, put the finishing touches on my sermon and went for an outing to the park with a little puddle jumping nature walk. The girls, my dear wife and I had a nice early evening. We were fueled by a dinner of fish or chicken tacos with avocado, grilled veggies, Jack cheese and corn.
After a ghastly 0-12 season last year, the Huskies are on a much better trajectory now. They made good calls on offense, showing some flash and talent at the skill positions. Though the defense seems a bit under skilled, Nick Holt had good schemes and a plucky, hard-working attitude injected into the entire defense. I have tickets for the USC game on Sept. 19th with my Dad, brother and some friends--I don't know if they'll be able to offer the same effort against USC, especially when Pete Carroll knows Coach Sarkisian so well. I'm hoping for another good effort with a shot at the win in the 4th quarter.
I will always root against Notre Dame. That nemesis developed in college during the era of the Miami/Notre Dame rivalry known as the Catholics vs. The Convicts in the late 80's. I remember statements by Notre Dame fans that ND represented God and Miami represented Evil and Satan. Those kinds of statements lit my torch, and I could no longer be indifferent to the school from South Bend. I don't loathe them as much these days, but my favorite teams are still Washington, Tennessee, Central Michigan, and whichever team is playing Notre Dame. I have little tolerance for righteousness attached to a football team.
I watched the Minnesota and Navy games only because I could while folding laundry. The Navy game was more enjoyable. I admired Navy for their efficiency, getting the absolute most out of their resources and almost sticking to the boring football of the Big Ten power THE Ohio State University. If forced to pull for a Big Ten team (which I really don't have to do anymore in Pac-10 country) I go for the Badgers and the Gophers. Wisconsin, because the are the best football celebrators in the USA, and Minnesota, because there are alums in my dear wife's family, and they gave my daughter top-notch medical care.
Fall weekends are hard to beat--this was only the beginning. Easily my favorite season of the year.
Syracuse/Minnesota
Navy/Ohio State
Notre Dame/Nevada
Oklahoma St./Georgia
Washington/LSU
I washed, dried, folded and put away 7 loads of laundry, cleaned, put the finishing touches on my sermon and went for an outing to the park with a little puddle jumping nature walk. The girls, my dear wife and I had a nice early evening. We were fueled by a dinner of fish or chicken tacos with avocado, grilled veggies, Jack cheese and corn.
After a ghastly 0-12 season last year, the Huskies are on a much better trajectory now. They made good calls on offense, showing some flash and talent at the skill positions. Though the defense seems a bit under skilled, Nick Holt had good schemes and a plucky, hard-working attitude injected into the entire defense. I have tickets for the USC game on Sept. 19th with my Dad, brother and some friends--I don't know if they'll be able to offer the same effort against USC, especially when Pete Carroll knows Coach Sarkisian so well. I'm hoping for another good effort with a shot at the win in the 4th quarter.
I will always root against Notre Dame. That nemesis developed in college during the era of the Miami/Notre Dame rivalry known as the Catholics vs. The Convicts in the late 80's. I remember statements by Notre Dame fans that ND represented God and Miami represented Evil and Satan. Those kinds of statements lit my torch, and I could no longer be indifferent to the school from South Bend. I don't loathe them as much these days, but my favorite teams are still Washington, Tennessee, Central Michigan, and whichever team is playing Notre Dame. I have little tolerance for righteousness attached to a football team.
I watched the Minnesota and Navy games only because I could while folding laundry. The Navy game was more enjoyable. I admired Navy for their efficiency, getting the absolute most out of their resources and almost sticking to the boring football of the Big Ten power THE Ohio State University. If forced to pull for a Big Ten team (which I really don't have to do anymore in Pac-10 country) I go for the Badgers and the Gophers. Wisconsin, because the are the best football celebrators in the USA, and Minnesota, because there are alums in my dear wife's family, and they gave my daughter top-notch medical care.
Fall weekends are hard to beat--this was only the beginning. Easily my favorite season of the year.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
The heat wave has finally abated
Back in college, a good friend used to chide me for paying attention to weather forecasts: "Why do you worry about something you can't control?"
I may not be able to control the weather, but I can adjust. Since returning to the Northwest, I have enjoyed reading University of Washington Atmospheric Science Professor Cliff Mass' blog. I thought about his post regarding humidity and realized I did not recognize the humidity with the heat. Indeed, we had a high dew point for the region, but I remember those days in South Dakota and Kansas where I walked outside and sweat with minimal exertion. I loathe that feeling. I love to sweat when working out and dressed to do so, but merely sweating is not my favorite bodily function. It is one reason I would think long and hard before ever taking an opportunity to live in the South. I would be constantly cranky. Even in my more svelte days, I couldn't take the humidity.
I guess I lived long enough in the Midwest that I didn't notice the humidity during the last heat wave. I am shocked.
I may not be able to control the weather, but I can adjust. Since returning to the Northwest, I have enjoyed reading University of Washington Atmospheric Science Professor Cliff Mass' blog. I thought about his post regarding humidity and realized I did not recognize the humidity with the heat. Indeed, we had a high dew point for the region, but I remember those days in South Dakota and Kansas where I walked outside and sweat with minimal exertion. I loathe that feeling. I love to sweat when working out and dressed to do so, but merely sweating is not my favorite bodily function. It is one reason I would think long and hard before ever taking an opportunity to live in the South. I would be constantly cranky. Even in my more svelte days, I couldn't take the humidity.
I guess I lived long enough in the Midwest that I didn't notice the humidity during the last heat wave. I am shocked.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
When the Dave Niehaus era ends
I am huge Dave Niehaus fan--he's like an uncle in our family. Outside of her late husband, sons, grandsons, great grandsons and father, Niehaus is probably the most important man in my grandmother's life. I have a hard time imagining the Mariners without Niehaus.
There will come a day when Niehaus will no longer be calling Mariners games, and the thought of bringing on someone else brings fear to the summer joy and stability that is baseball. I like Rick Rizzs. I like Mike Blowers. I like Dave Sims (though I don't hear too much good about him). I'm glad that the team finally moved on from other broadcasting mediocrities like Dave Valle, Ron Fairly and Wes Stock. Even though the Mariners have decent guys in the booth, none of them are THE guy. They don't have the pipes. They don't have the storytelling ability. They don't inspire listening to the game with hope for a dramatic turn in the ballgame.
Though I'm not the first person to come up with an idea for Niehaus' replacement, I want to get out the word into web land that Kevin Calabro needs to be the guy that is placed in Niehaus' spot on the air. Even though the Mariners have not always put the best club on the field, outside of the Vin Scully's of the world, I can't think of many clubs who have a Niehaus-type storytellers ability or pipes (Bob Uecker in Milwaukee is almost in the same class, I enjoyed him for a few years). In broadcasting, Seattle now holds the high standards set by Niehaus. After suffering through the Twins and Royals game calling for several years, I love the free and easy access to Niehaus on my home radio. Calabro meets the high standards for baseball broadcasting in Seattle.
Calabro has all the attributes of a great baseball broadcaster and he loves Seattle sports. He is not a newer version of Niehaus, but he has the broadcasting skills to want to welcome him into the Mariner fan mindset for 162 regular season games a year. I hope the appropriate leaders are making plans for Calabro in the future. When I ask the question "who would I want to listen to for 162 games a year? Who might actually take the job?" Kevin Calabro is the only answer to this question I know. If there is another answer to these questions, I would like to know.
There will come a day when Niehaus will no longer be calling Mariners games, and the thought of bringing on someone else brings fear to the summer joy and stability that is baseball. I like Rick Rizzs. I like Mike Blowers. I like Dave Sims (though I don't hear too much good about him). I'm glad that the team finally moved on from other broadcasting mediocrities like Dave Valle, Ron Fairly and Wes Stock. Even though the Mariners have decent guys in the booth, none of them are THE guy. They don't have the pipes. They don't have the storytelling ability. They don't inspire listening to the game with hope for a dramatic turn in the ballgame.
Though I'm not the first person to come up with an idea for Niehaus' replacement, I want to get out the word into web land that Kevin Calabro needs to be the guy that is placed in Niehaus' spot on the air. Even though the Mariners have not always put the best club on the field, outside of the Vin Scully's of the world, I can't think of many clubs who have a Niehaus-type storytellers ability or pipes (Bob Uecker in Milwaukee is almost in the same class, I enjoyed him for a few years). In broadcasting, Seattle now holds the high standards set by Niehaus. After suffering through the Twins and Royals game calling for several years, I love the free and easy access to Niehaus on my home radio. Calabro meets the high standards for baseball broadcasting in Seattle.
Calabro has all the attributes of a great baseball broadcaster and he loves Seattle sports. He is not a newer version of Niehaus, but he has the broadcasting skills to want to welcome him into the Mariner fan mindset for 162 regular season games a year. I hope the appropriate leaders are making plans for Calabro in the future. When I ask the question "who would I want to listen to for 162 games a year? Who might actually take the job?" Kevin Calabro is the only answer to this question I know. If there is another answer to these questions, I would like to know.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Here comes the heat wave
Surfacing reports indicate a heat wave is coming to the Pacific Northwest.
I am looking at this heat wife like a Midwest snow storm in some ways--preparation mode. The comparison to a Midwest snowstorm doesn't really work--the Midwest adjusts to weather extremes far better than any place west of the Cascade mountains. My preparation mode began earlier this morning--I have a cool overcast morning with which to work, and I am cooking on the stove now to avoid turning it on later during the unbearable temperatures. I've cooked some chicken breasts, pasta and macaroni and cheese; some will be used for the microwave, some will be mixed in a salad. I'm getting out my camping grill later (packed in a box somewhere) so I can cook something else in the next week. I want to be able to feed my family a decent meal while still following The Frugal Rule. It would be oh, so tempting to go out to a nice, air conditioned restaurant during the heat wave, but not really cost effective.
I remember big snow days in the Midwest--we had/have a good vehicle for getting around, but why take a chance going into a ditch when it isn't necessary? When I knew the storm was coming, I made sure we had hot meals ready to make, milk, and some food to easily prepare if the power went out because of an ice storm.
The heat wave is my least favorite weather extreme for which to prepare, but I also like testing my expanding home economist skills. My next big test will be if I can get going early enough in the morning to get in my long run before it gets too warm.
I am looking at this heat wife like a Midwest snow storm in some ways--preparation mode. The comparison to a Midwest snowstorm doesn't really work--the Midwest adjusts to weather extremes far better than any place west of the Cascade mountains. My preparation mode began earlier this morning--I have a cool overcast morning with which to work, and I am cooking on the stove now to avoid turning it on later during the unbearable temperatures. I've cooked some chicken breasts, pasta and macaroni and cheese; some will be used for the microwave, some will be mixed in a salad. I'm getting out my camping grill later (packed in a box somewhere) so I can cook something else in the next week. I want to be able to feed my family a decent meal while still following The Frugal Rule. It would be oh, so tempting to go out to a nice, air conditioned restaurant during the heat wave, but not really cost effective.
I remember big snow days in the Midwest--we had/have a good vehicle for getting around, but why take a chance going into a ditch when it isn't necessary? When I knew the storm was coming, I made sure we had hot meals ready to make, milk, and some food to easily prepare if the power went out because of an ice storm.
The heat wave is my least favorite weather extreme for which to prepare, but I also like testing my expanding home economist skills. My next big test will be if I can get going early enough in the morning to get in my long run before it gets too warm.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Downtown Owl: my new sub-hobby as a Chuck Klosterman apologist (as if he needs one)
Regardless of book quality, rarely do I complete a book in less than a week. Granted, Chuck Klosterman is relatively easy to read--sometimes I find it easier to read Klosterman than the comics section.
Why do I find him so easy to read these days? Klosterman feels like a pseudo-friend as I read his work. I don't think I have the life, time or energy for many friends these days. I don't necessarily lament this, I live a blessed life. However, there's a distinct quality and added value to reading (hearing) something about a philosophical shared experience. Though I wasn't born in the Northern Great Plains (NGP), I recently lived there for 8 1/2 years, and those years left an indelible imprint on my life. Klosterman no longer lives in North Dakota, yet he writes in a way that attempts to extract meaning from his life in North Dakota that only distance provides. As I am neither a book critic or well-read, I wonder if Klosterman is unique in his depiction of the NGP, one who understands the cultural characteristics of NGP life and actually names them with a bit of critique and an abiding affection (Klosterman dedicates the novel to "Melissa" and "North Dakota." The only author I can recall who comes close is Garrison Keillor (is Klosterman a sort of Gen X Keillor? I'm waiting for Klosterman's new book in October). The major difference I would note is Keillor's distinct use of sarcasm is mostly absent in Klosterman. Where Keillor gave me humorous insights to cultural quirks in the NGP, Klosterman has helped me extract meaning from my experiences in the NGP over the past 8 years.
As a pastor in the NGP, I served in places like Owl, North Dakota, but I never lived there. I always went home to the big city to sleep in my bed with my dear wife. I attended basketball games, I ate at the local cafes, I observed teenage socialization, I observed particular family dynamics, I participated in senior citizen philosophical symposiums in church basements and local eateries. After all of those years in NGP ministry, I learned that though I had a passport into strange places in people's lives that few (if any) other people had, most people behave differently in the known proximity of their pastor. Therefore there was much I didn't see in people's basic lives. Klosterman provided plausible and interesting depictions of characters with whom I interacted in the congregations I served--but I also didn't get to know. Klosterman filled in some curious gaps for me. Even though Klosterman claims his work is not autobiographical, he is writing about what he knows. Though Klosterman creates an omniscient narrator for Downtown Owl, I feel like the novel represents getting together with a friend to compare and contrast life in particular towns of which Klosterman knows.
After reading reviews of Downtown Owl from Entertainment Weekly and The New York Times. Both reviewers critique Klosterman's level of omniscience, that Downtown Owl reads too much like a Klosterman essay, with nimble cultural commentary that is sometimes distracting from character development. This critique may or may not be valid; I suppose it may depend on why you're reading the book. Though I didn't necessarily care about all of Klosterman's cultural commentary from the narrator, I'm not sure Klosterman cares if a reader resonates with all of his references. I believe that is his style. He gives his readers too much to think about, but writes in a way that says, "enjoy what you can, gain insight from what you can, toss aside the rest. It doesn't bother me." Sure, some of Klosterman's social commentaries may have been superfluous to character development, but it didn't take away from my personal resonance with the characters and the general observations about Owl compared to the rest of America. I was still able to extract meaning in light of my own experiences that made me laugh and think on multiple levels. Few authors have that kind of cache with me, which is why I finished the book in a week.
If you want to learn more about Klosterman, check out his two-part podcast appearance with Bill Simmons from ESPN (look for June 28-29). My big learning from these podcasts was that the only way Klosterman was able to get his novel published was that Downtown Owl was part of a two book deal, the other being a book of essays (to be released October 2009). I'm glad Klosterman has the kind of leverage that he can write out of his own creative place and not merely what some believe the market will bear. I hope that Downtown Owl sold enough books that Klosterman will write another novel.
Post script on books: Klosterman was about the only reading distraction I had to finishing Tess of the D'Urbervilles this week. In the quest for something new, Christopher Hitchens "god is not Great" was available at my local library branch. Though somewhat interesting, Hitchens won't eclipse Tess on my priority list. But something else may come along...
Why do I find him so easy to read these days? Klosterman feels like a pseudo-friend as I read his work. I don't think I have the life, time or energy for many friends these days. I don't necessarily lament this, I live a blessed life. However, there's a distinct quality and added value to reading (hearing) something about a philosophical shared experience. Though I wasn't born in the Northern Great Plains (NGP), I recently lived there for 8 1/2 years, and those years left an indelible imprint on my life. Klosterman no longer lives in North Dakota, yet he writes in a way that attempts to extract meaning from his life in North Dakota that only distance provides. As I am neither a book critic or well-read, I wonder if Klosterman is unique in his depiction of the NGP, one who understands the cultural characteristics of NGP life and actually names them with a bit of critique and an abiding affection (Klosterman dedicates the novel to "Melissa" and "North Dakota." The only author I can recall who comes close is Garrison Keillor (is Klosterman a sort of Gen X Keillor? I'm waiting for Klosterman's new book in October). The major difference I would note is Keillor's distinct use of sarcasm is mostly absent in Klosterman. Where Keillor gave me humorous insights to cultural quirks in the NGP, Klosterman has helped me extract meaning from my experiences in the NGP over the past 8 years.
As a pastor in the NGP, I served in places like Owl, North Dakota, but I never lived there. I always went home to the big city to sleep in my bed with my dear wife. I attended basketball games, I ate at the local cafes, I observed teenage socialization, I observed particular family dynamics, I participated in senior citizen philosophical symposiums in church basements and local eateries. After all of those years in NGP ministry, I learned that though I had a passport into strange places in people's lives that few (if any) other people had, most people behave differently in the known proximity of their pastor. Therefore there was much I didn't see in people's basic lives. Klosterman provided plausible and interesting depictions of characters with whom I interacted in the congregations I served--but I also didn't get to know. Klosterman filled in some curious gaps for me. Even though Klosterman claims his work is not autobiographical, he is writing about what he knows. Though Klosterman creates an omniscient narrator for Downtown Owl, I feel like the novel represents getting together with a friend to compare and contrast life in particular towns of which Klosterman knows.
After reading reviews of Downtown Owl from Entertainment Weekly and The New York Times. Both reviewers critique Klosterman's level of omniscience, that Downtown Owl reads too much like a Klosterman essay, with nimble cultural commentary that is sometimes distracting from character development. This critique may or may not be valid; I suppose it may depend on why you're reading the book. Though I didn't necessarily care about all of Klosterman's cultural commentary from the narrator, I'm not sure Klosterman cares if a reader resonates with all of his references. I believe that is his style. He gives his readers too much to think about, but writes in a way that says, "enjoy what you can, gain insight from what you can, toss aside the rest. It doesn't bother me." Sure, some of Klosterman's social commentaries may have been superfluous to character development, but it didn't take away from my personal resonance with the characters and the general observations about Owl compared to the rest of America. I was still able to extract meaning in light of my own experiences that made me laugh and think on multiple levels. Few authors have that kind of cache with me, which is why I finished the book in a week.
If you want to learn more about Klosterman, check out his two-part podcast appearance with Bill Simmons from ESPN (look for June 28-29). My big learning from these podcasts was that the only way Klosterman was able to get his novel published was that Downtown Owl was part of a two book deal, the other being a book of essays (to be released October 2009). I'm glad Klosterman has the kind of leverage that he can write out of his own creative place and not merely what some believe the market will bear. I hope that Downtown Owl sold enough books that Klosterman will write another novel.
Post script on books: Klosterman was about the only reading distraction I had to finishing Tess of the D'Urbervilles this week. In the quest for something new, Christopher Hitchens "god is not Great" was available at my local library branch. Though somewhat interesting, Hitchens won't eclipse Tess on my priority list. But something else may come along...
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
An evolving relationship with coffee (part 5)
2009 marked the greatest shift in my coffee relationship.
I previously wrote that moving from one child to two did not double the work, but quadrupled it. I know this because of the copious amounts of scientific research available in respected journals (believe what you will). However, parents of 3 children or more say that the jump from 2-3 and beyond is even easier, because regardless of the number after that, parents have to play a zone defense and have a right to enslave the older children. My observation is that one child's path of destruction could always be contained--with two children, their tendrils extend in unpredictable trajectories, creating unforeseen chain reactions (at least quadruple the work).
With thanks to my mother and father for training me in home economics (father with about 20 percent, teaching the ways of grocery prices, and mother with all the rest of the teaching), and when my dear wife and I decided our household was better suited to me staying at home more often, I felt ready to step in. I learned home economics takes a whole different level of stamina. With the aforementioned tendrils of doom from two children, I quickly learned that the work was much harder than anything I had ever done in some respects. I found myself taking naps with the children in the afternoon, then I would be half asleep for an hour or so after the nap, or I wouldn't be able to get to sleep in the evening, and the sleep cycle would continue to spiral into a vortex of grog. Not only was my sleep pattern altered, I was getting less done because at least one kid demanded my attention.
Though I had really never consistently used caffeine, I turned to caffeinated beverages--Diet Coke, Coke Zero, Diet Mountain Dew in order to pull myself out of the vortex of grog. It worked really well for awhile, not only did I charge through nap time with accomplishments galore, but my productivity eclipsed my normal output in general. After about one month of pop consumption I noticed a big shift in the curve. I was drinking somewhere between 75-100 ounces of diet caffeinated soda or more per day. My body felt like it had a metallic residue clinging to my pores, and my thoughts weren't as sharp as they used to be. I hit some mood swings, to which my children absorbed the most. My oldest daughter would sometimes proclaim, "Daddy, you don't have to be so grumpy." To what shall I attribute this shift in wellness? Sleep deprivation? Probably. Caffeine? Possibly. The toxic cocktail of carbonation, artificial sweeteners and colors? I'm not sure what felt worse, the effects of my intake on my body, or the dread of a dearth of daily accomplishment.
My solution wasn't all that revolutionary. I was about as addicted to accomplishment as I was the caffeine, so the caffeine had to stay. I had a prelude to the effectiveness of coffee when I was completely in desperate fatigue survival--when I was serving a congregation and held a paper route. I was up at 230 am to do the Sunday paper route, home at 7:15 to shower and on the road at 7:45 for Sunday worship and Christian education, arriving at home at 1:30 p.m., strung out on caffeine for another 60-90 minutes, only to pass out into a contorted lump of flesh and bones. A few occasions my dear wife made me a mocha with triple chocolate and double espresso. It was an amazing taste of awful and delicious. I remember noting to her, "this coffee stuff works." I couldn't get over that acid dirt taste, so once that work combo from hell was over, I went back to limited amounts of pop, about 36-50 ounces per day.
Once again, I hit the pop threshold, and realized pop wasn't all that inexpensive, and we already had coffee and sugar in the house. Though I hated the taste of it, I didn't feel as awful (outside of my tongue) drinking 3 16-ounce iced coffees each day as with the diet soda consumption. I must admit I feel some self-loathing that I have acquiesced to the Coffistas of the world and the coffee culture. This self-loathing was tempered in that I can join my wife much more easily for a coffee. I'm also a little bit disgusted that my life is out of control that I feel it necessary to detract from my wholeness with a sustaining dose of stimulant. I wouldn't trade many of the joy and fullness of life so that I wouldn't feel the need to consume caffeine. But I can't "control" my children. I give them loving discipline, but they also need to be their own people. I also need to be able to do my own thing--like write. I don't drink coffee everyday, only on the days when the day is so full of contingencies that I need something to survive. I drank coffee on Monday (that would be iced fu-fu coffee) but no caffeine yesterday. Today might be a coffee day. I put the odds at 50-50.
Writing this 5-part reflection on coffee has been attempt to be a little more self-aware about stimulant use. Some healthy people I respect, like Jeff Galloway uses coffee in his training to stimulate thought, creativity and motivation. I also recognize that coffee is a curious part of my religious culture. Though I can understand coffee's social role, I think the beverage's importance is overplayed in and of itself, especially for those who proclaim it as a sacrament. There is a degree of humor implied in this statement, of course, but when a woman cantankerously calls out to me "Are you another one of those young Lutheran pastors who doesn't drink coffee?" reveals something about the social rigidity of congregants. Let's be clear about the ends and flexible about the means. I have invested thousands upon thousands of hours in contributing and building relationships among the people of God. I have gone way outside my own comfort zone in many ways--but in the end, my value is that I uphold and encourage and find joy in the basic dignity of human relationships that communicate the love of God. Coffee can be useful, but it is not essential. Pop could work, as could a cup of water or a wheat grass shot or a beer (my preferences). Or, people could just talk--but I also recognize the terror in that. The more I see coffee as the essential and a point for argument, the more I weep for my culture. I hope there will be someone with whom I can talk about this. I am thankful that my dear wife and I do this. We don't need the coffee--but that kind of blessed conversation has been 15 years in the making.
I previously wrote that moving from one child to two did not double the work, but quadrupled it. I know this because of the copious amounts of scientific research available in respected journals (believe what you will). However, parents of 3 children or more say that the jump from 2-3 and beyond is even easier, because regardless of the number after that, parents have to play a zone defense and have a right to enslave the older children. My observation is that one child's path of destruction could always be contained--with two children, their tendrils extend in unpredictable trajectories, creating unforeseen chain reactions (at least quadruple the work).
With thanks to my mother and father for training me in home economics (father with about 20 percent, teaching the ways of grocery prices, and mother with all the rest of the teaching), and when my dear wife and I decided our household was better suited to me staying at home more often, I felt ready to step in. I learned home economics takes a whole different level of stamina. With the aforementioned tendrils of doom from two children, I quickly learned that the work was much harder than anything I had ever done in some respects. I found myself taking naps with the children in the afternoon, then I would be half asleep for an hour or so after the nap, or I wouldn't be able to get to sleep in the evening, and the sleep cycle would continue to spiral into a vortex of grog. Not only was my sleep pattern altered, I was getting less done because at least one kid demanded my attention.
Though I had really never consistently used caffeine, I turned to caffeinated beverages--Diet Coke, Coke Zero, Diet Mountain Dew in order to pull myself out of the vortex of grog. It worked really well for awhile, not only did I charge through nap time with accomplishments galore, but my productivity eclipsed my normal output in general. After about one month of pop consumption I noticed a big shift in the curve. I was drinking somewhere between 75-100 ounces of diet caffeinated soda or more per day. My body felt like it had a metallic residue clinging to my pores, and my thoughts weren't as sharp as they used to be. I hit some mood swings, to which my children absorbed the most. My oldest daughter would sometimes proclaim, "Daddy, you don't have to be so grumpy." To what shall I attribute this shift in wellness? Sleep deprivation? Probably. Caffeine? Possibly. The toxic cocktail of carbonation, artificial sweeteners and colors? I'm not sure what felt worse, the effects of my intake on my body, or the dread of a dearth of daily accomplishment.
My solution wasn't all that revolutionary. I was about as addicted to accomplishment as I was the caffeine, so the caffeine had to stay. I had a prelude to the effectiveness of coffee when I was completely in desperate fatigue survival--when I was serving a congregation and held a paper route. I was up at 230 am to do the Sunday paper route, home at 7:15 to shower and on the road at 7:45 for Sunday worship and Christian education, arriving at home at 1:30 p.m., strung out on caffeine for another 60-90 minutes, only to pass out into a contorted lump of flesh and bones. A few occasions my dear wife made me a mocha with triple chocolate and double espresso. It was an amazing taste of awful and delicious. I remember noting to her, "this coffee stuff works." I couldn't get over that acid dirt taste, so once that work combo from hell was over, I went back to limited amounts of pop, about 36-50 ounces per day.
Once again, I hit the pop threshold, and realized pop wasn't all that inexpensive, and we already had coffee and sugar in the house. Though I hated the taste of it, I didn't feel as awful (outside of my tongue) drinking 3 16-ounce iced coffees each day as with the diet soda consumption. I must admit I feel some self-loathing that I have acquiesced to the Coffistas of the world and the coffee culture. This self-loathing was tempered in that I can join my wife much more easily for a coffee. I'm also a little bit disgusted that my life is out of control that I feel it necessary to detract from my wholeness with a sustaining dose of stimulant. I wouldn't trade many of the joy and fullness of life so that I wouldn't feel the need to consume caffeine. But I can't "control" my children. I give them loving discipline, but they also need to be their own people. I also need to be able to do my own thing--like write. I don't drink coffee everyday, only on the days when the day is so full of contingencies that I need something to survive. I drank coffee on Monday (that would be iced fu-fu coffee) but no caffeine yesterday. Today might be a coffee day. I put the odds at 50-50.
Writing this 5-part reflection on coffee has been attempt to be a little more self-aware about stimulant use. Some healthy people I respect, like Jeff Galloway uses coffee in his training to stimulate thought, creativity and motivation. I also recognize that coffee is a curious part of my religious culture. Though I can understand coffee's social role, I think the beverage's importance is overplayed in and of itself, especially for those who proclaim it as a sacrament. There is a degree of humor implied in this statement, of course, but when a woman cantankerously calls out to me "Are you another one of those young Lutheran pastors who doesn't drink coffee?" reveals something about the social rigidity of congregants. Let's be clear about the ends and flexible about the means. I have invested thousands upon thousands of hours in contributing and building relationships among the people of God. I have gone way outside my own comfort zone in many ways--but in the end, my value is that I uphold and encourage and find joy in the basic dignity of human relationships that communicate the love of God. Coffee can be useful, but it is not essential. Pop could work, as could a cup of water or a wheat grass shot or a beer (my preferences). Or, people could just talk--but I also recognize the terror in that. The more I see coffee as the essential and a point for argument, the more I weep for my culture. I hope there will be someone with whom I can talk about this. I am thankful that my dear wife and I do this. We don't need the coffee--but that kind of blessed conversation has been 15 years in the making.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
An evolving relationship with coffee (part 4)
Yesterday as we drove into a strip mall area with a whole host of eating establishments, coffee houses and drive-thru windows, my two-year old daughter clearly proclaimed, "Daddy, I want a latte!" Indeed, these kids pay attention in more ways than we know.
The previous day, after an awfully hot day in a church with no air conditioning (not unusual for Western Washington), a frail woman in her 80's asked me, "are you one of those young Lutheran pastors who doesn't drink coffee?" It was like I never left the Northern Great Plains/Upper Midwest. Is it only Lutherans who drink hot coffee in a 90 degree building with no air circulation? It tastes bad enough as it is, but to drink hot coffee during a sweat-fest in which I almost passed out during my sermon (at least I didn't have to sit through it) makes little sense.
Such is the life of an elderly Coffista.
The previous day, after an awfully hot day in a church with no air conditioning (not unusual for Western Washington), a frail woman in her 80's asked me, "are you one of those young Lutheran pastors who doesn't drink coffee?" It was like I never left the Northern Great Plains/Upper Midwest. Is it only Lutherans who drink hot coffee in a 90 degree building with no air circulation? It tastes bad enough as it is, but to drink hot coffee during a sweat-fest in which I almost passed out during my sermon (at least I didn't have to sit through it) makes little sense.
Such is the life of an elderly Coffista.
An addition to Famous North Dakotans? Thoughts on Chuck Klosterman's work
After reviewing a few lists of famous North Dakotans I didn't find Chuck Klosterman on those lists. A few theories and thoughts: 1) Does a famous North Dakotan have to be born in North Dakota? According to his profile, though he was born in Minnesota, he was raised in Wyndmere, North Dakota, graduated from North Dakota, and probably wrote one of the more famous pieces of fiction based on a composite North Dakota town, Downtown Owl. Having not read Downtown Owl (it's on my list), but having recently completed Chuck Klosterman IV: A Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas, 2) I now wonder whether North Dakota doesn't want to claim him. Some of his work is a little explicit for all of those Norwegian-Americans in North Dakota. 3) What distinguishes someone as "famous?" Is it that their names are part of wider public discourse? That their name is recognized by a wider audience? Klosterman has written for Spin, Esquire, ESPN the Magazine, and The New York Times Magazine, to name a few.
Even though I lived in South Dakota for over 8 years and admired the state, I always thought North Dakota was a little bit cooler than South Dakota for a few reasons:
1. North Dakota colleges and universities are way better at sports than South Dakota colleges and universities (though the gap may be closing). Until a few years ago, the University of North Dakota had the only Division I sports team in the Dakotas (UND Hockey). UND Hockey is really cool (literally and figuratively).
2. North Dakota is much more obscure (which I consider cool). You have to want to go there. South Dakota is drive-through country--with Mt. Rushmore, Wall Drug, and being on Interstate 90--the great path from the West to the Northeast, New England and the Atlantic Ocean, not to mention several large metropolitan areas along the way, many folks can say they've at least driven through South Dakota, and for seemingly good reasons. North Dakota also doesn't have a city over 100,000 people and doesn't have as much easy access popular culture on well-traveled paths as South Dakota.
3. North Dakota has easier access to the bountiful and mysterious north that is Canada.
4. I suppose North Dakota is literally cooler in temperature than South Dakota.
5. Chuck Klosterman.
After reading one of his fabulous articles in ESPN the Magazine a few years ago, I picked up a copy of Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto. I enjoyed this book as I resonated with the Gen X perspective, but also appreciated the anti-academic, yet still sharp and intelligent observation and writing. Chuck Klosterman IV is a similar product to Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs in its intelligence, but it tracks his work (mostly from Spin and Esquire) for a decade. The (London) Evening Standard called Klosterman's work "Ferociously clever and ferociously self-deprecating." Klosterman accomplishes this rare (unique?) combination with tight and economical writing. I particularly enjoyed the introductions to each of his columns/essays. For example:
"You are offered a Brain Pill. If you swallow this pill, you will become 10 percent more intelligent than you currently are...to all other people you meet, you will seem 20 percent less intelligent...Do you take this pill (p. 259)?" This is an introduction to a specific critique of Entertainment Weekly's look at Guilty Pleasures in entertainment. The introduction is good on its own, but it's even better when considered with the essay.
I also appreciated his look at the useless and misguided level of astonishment in cultural critique: "Why do non religious people think that the Christian Right shouldn't have a voice in government? Why do conservatives get angry bout the prospect of gay marriage, even if they've never met a gay person and never will...culture can't be wrong...people can be wrong, and movements can be wrong. But culture--as a whole--cannot be wrong. Culture is just there (p. 267).
The following could be classified as a Gen X perspective, but what I appreciate about the following quote is that Klosterman articulates my reflections on politics and public discourse better than I can myself (I know because I've tried a few times in this blog and foolishly on message boards): "Whenever I meet someone who openly identifies themselves as a Republican or a Democrat, my immediate thought is always 'Well, this person might be interesting, but they'll never say anything about politics that is remotely useful to me.' I refuse to discuss abortion with anyone who is pro-life or pro-choice...All the world's stupidest people are either zealots or atheists. If you want to truly deduce how intelligent someone is, just ask this person how they feel about any issue that doesn't have an answer; the more certainty they express, the less sense they have. This is because certainty only comes from dogma (p. 240)."
I value this kind of thought, but it sure is hard to articulate challenging thoughts such as these from within the church especially from the pulpit or leadership position. Few people in the Church will question the Church in a valuable way. I think there is too much on the line on multiple levels. I certainly don't have the courage to do it on many occasions. From where will the next Martin Luther come? Luther was great thinker with a heart for the common person, a love for God and the mysteries of God, and someone with the courage to articulate where the Church is lost while still holding a love for the Church.
I'm not sure whether Klosterman is intentionally left off the famous North Dakotans lists for his challenging writing, or that he frankly writes about sex and drugs at the dark side of humanity at times. He doesn't glorify the darkness of humanity, but he asks great questions about it and makes great observations. This writing brings to mind the seminal Gen X writer, Douglas Coupland, with his sometimes dizzying prose, dancing the fence of disbelief suspended. But Klosterman's journalistic background also takes his low culture philosophy to a place Coupland cannot go: some of the things Klosterman reports could not possibly be made up. This makes Klosterman a way cool North Dakotan, even if he may not widely be claimed as famous.
Even though I lived in South Dakota for over 8 years and admired the state, I always thought North Dakota was a little bit cooler than South Dakota for a few reasons:
1. North Dakota colleges and universities are way better at sports than South Dakota colleges and universities (though the gap may be closing). Until a few years ago, the University of North Dakota had the only Division I sports team in the Dakotas (UND Hockey). UND Hockey is really cool (literally and figuratively).
2. North Dakota is much more obscure (which I consider cool). You have to want to go there. South Dakota is drive-through country--with Mt. Rushmore, Wall Drug, and being on Interstate 90--the great path from the West to the Northeast, New England and the Atlantic Ocean, not to mention several large metropolitan areas along the way, many folks can say they've at least driven through South Dakota, and for seemingly good reasons. North Dakota also doesn't have a city over 100,000 people and doesn't have as much easy access popular culture on well-traveled paths as South Dakota.
3. North Dakota has easier access to the bountiful and mysterious north that is Canada.
4. I suppose North Dakota is literally cooler in temperature than South Dakota.
5. Chuck Klosterman.
After reading one of his fabulous articles in ESPN the Magazine a few years ago, I picked up a copy of Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto. I enjoyed this book as I resonated with the Gen X perspective, but also appreciated the anti-academic, yet still sharp and intelligent observation and writing. Chuck Klosterman IV is a similar product to Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs in its intelligence, but it tracks his work (mostly from Spin and Esquire) for a decade. The (London) Evening Standard called Klosterman's work "Ferociously clever and ferociously self-deprecating." Klosterman accomplishes this rare (unique?) combination with tight and economical writing. I particularly enjoyed the introductions to each of his columns/essays. For example:
"You are offered a Brain Pill. If you swallow this pill, you will become 10 percent more intelligent than you currently are...to all other people you meet, you will seem 20 percent less intelligent...Do you take this pill (p. 259)?" This is an introduction to a specific critique of Entertainment Weekly's look at Guilty Pleasures in entertainment. The introduction is good on its own, but it's even better when considered with the essay.
I also appreciated his look at the useless and misguided level of astonishment in cultural critique: "Why do non religious people think that the Christian Right shouldn't have a voice in government? Why do conservatives get angry bout the prospect of gay marriage, even if they've never met a gay person and never will...culture can't be wrong...people can be wrong, and movements can be wrong. But culture--as a whole--cannot be wrong. Culture is just there (p. 267).
The following could be classified as a Gen X perspective, but what I appreciate about the following quote is that Klosterman articulates my reflections on politics and public discourse better than I can myself (I know because I've tried a few times in this blog and foolishly on message boards): "Whenever I meet someone who openly identifies themselves as a Republican or a Democrat, my immediate thought is always 'Well, this person might be interesting, but they'll never say anything about politics that is remotely useful to me.' I refuse to discuss abortion with anyone who is pro-life or pro-choice...All the world's stupidest people are either zealots or atheists. If you want to truly deduce how intelligent someone is, just ask this person how they feel about any issue that doesn't have an answer; the more certainty they express, the less sense they have. This is because certainty only comes from dogma (p. 240)."
I value this kind of thought, but it sure is hard to articulate challenging thoughts such as these from within the church especially from the pulpit or leadership position. Few people in the Church will question the Church in a valuable way. I think there is too much on the line on multiple levels. I certainly don't have the courage to do it on many occasions. From where will the next Martin Luther come? Luther was great thinker with a heart for the common person, a love for God and the mysteries of God, and someone with the courage to articulate where the Church is lost while still holding a love for the Church.
I'm not sure whether Klosterman is intentionally left off the famous North Dakotans lists for his challenging writing, or that he frankly writes about sex and drugs at the dark side of humanity at times. He doesn't glorify the darkness of humanity, but he asks great questions about it and makes great observations. This writing brings to mind the seminal Gen X writer, Douglas Coupland, with his sometimes dizzying prose, dancing the fence of disbelief suspended. But Klosterman's journalistic background also takes his low culture philosophy to a place Coupland cannot go: some of the things Klosterman reports could not possibly be made up. This makes Klosterman a way cool North Dakotan, even if he may not widely be claimed as famous.
Monday, June 29, 2009
An evolving relationship with coffee (part 3)
Just when I thought coffee culture couldn't reveal any more to me, I was thrown a curve ball. As a young adult seminary student and intern, the coffee klatches were merely apoplectic about my avoidance of coffee. As a pastor, elderly women of Northern European descent became outright evangelistic (though with differing techniques) about coffee consumption.
Some statements by the Coffistas created a nuanced persuasion that I somehow missed something in my earlier experiences with coffee:
"Nothing tastes as good with a pan of my turtle (or insert any type of cookie or bar) bars like a cup of coffee (watch out when you find a Coffista Food Pusher)!"
"Sure, you may have tried coffee, but you've never tried EGG coffee!
I didn't want these elderly evangelists to know that I did taste their egg coffee. I don't think the egg does a damn thing to the taste (it still tastes like crap), but for them, adding the egg makes it a special occasion--which I think is the most important aspect of this recipe. The coffee tastes like licking the bottom of a recycle bin because the ultra-cheap coffee (coffee brands with names like Butter Nut) sits for hours in their 40-year old metallic percolators. Maybe the egg knocks down the beverage toxicity around five percent.
Sometimes the coffee evangelists took on a Big Brother tone: "You'll be drinking coffee before you leave this church." This type of statement from the Coffistas of the NGP/UM annoyed me more than any other, and made my anti-coffee stance even more resolute.
There was also the side of coffee culture that made me laugh. One day at a local cafe in which I used to frequent, I inquired about the status of Oliver's day. His reply. "Oh, I've been here most of the day talking with my friends. I'm on my 7th pot of coffee."
Seventh pot of coffee?!?!?!?!?
Here I learned the lesson about coffee strength. My loved ones tend to go for deeply black coffee that looks like gas tank sludge. The darker color speaks to coffee efficiency--the beverage remains a social lubricant, but also operates as a charge for the day. No drinking seven pots here. Conversely, Oliver and his ilk use a coffee not so much concerned with efficiency, but it's warmth and drinking motion that fills the time gaps and provides space to think. This type of pregnant pause to drink and swallow allows time to prepare statements and responses that solve the problems of the church, world, and discussing "prayer concerns (aka gossip)." Drinking coffee provides a tactile motion similar to prayer. I still struggle with the arithmetic that 90-year old man can drink 7 pots of coffee in 4 hours. In this equation I discovered a new paint color or J Crew clothing fabric hue: "Old Man Lutheran Coffee." This "coffee" is almost the shade of Lipton tea, but is not quite as red. Old Man Lutheran Coffee is almost transparent; certainly one can see the bottom of the cup when the coffee is poured. I don't marvel at the weakness of the coffee, but that a 90-year-old man would be willing to urinate with the frequency necessary to consume 7 pots of coffee.
Since Oliver is now sipping coffee with the heavenly court, maybe I'll figure out the mysteries of this culture on the other side of heaven when he greets me in heaven's basement. Heaven's basement wouldn't be hell, just the place where Oliver probably prefers to be after a full day of praising God.
I served in 7 congregations throughout the NGP/UM Lutheran Holy Land, walking a wide enough circle around the Coffistas to be able to observe coffee culture with a bemused detachment. Until 2009.
Some statements by the Coffistas created a nuanced persuasion that I somehow missed something in my earlier experiences with coffee:
"Nothing tastes as good with a pan of my turtle (or insert any type of cookie or bar) bars like a cup of coffee (watch out when you find a Coffista Food Pusher)!"
"Sure, you may have tried coffee, but you've never tried EGG coffee!
I didn't want these elderly evangelists to know that I did taste their egg coffee. I don't think the egg does a damn thing to the taste (it still tastes like crap), but for them, adding the egg makes it a special occasion--which I think is the most important aspect of this recipe. The coffee tastes like licking the bottom of a recycle bin because the ultra-cheap coffee (coffee brands with names like Butter Nut) sits for hours in their 40-year old metallic percolators. Maybe the egg knocks down the beverage toxicity around five percent.
Sometimes the coffee evangelists took on a Big Brother tone: "You'll be drinking coffee before you leave this church." This type of statement from the Coffistas of the NGP/UM annoyed me more than any other, and made my anti-coffee stance even more resolute.
There was also the side of coffee culture that made me laugh. One day at a local cafe in which I used to frequent, I inquired about the status of Oliver's day. His reply. "Oh, I've been here most of the day talking with my friends. I'm on my 7th pot of coffee."
Seventh pot of coffee?!?!?!?!?
Here I learned the lesson about coffee strength. My loved ones tend to go for deeply black coffee that looks like gas tank sludge. The darker color speaks to coffee efficiency--the beverage remains a social lubricant, but also operates as a charge for the day. No drinking seven pots here. Conversely, Oliver and his ilk use a coffee not so much concerned with efficiency, but it's warmth and drinking motion that fills the time gaps and provides space to think. This type of pregnant pause to drink and swallow allows time to prepare statements and responses that solve the problems of the church, world, and discussing "prayer concerns (aka gossip)." Drinking coffee provides a tactile motion similar to prayer. I still struggle with the arithmetic that 90-year old man can drink 7 pots of coffee in 4 hours. In this equation I discovered a new paint color or J Crew clothing fabric hue: "Old Man Lutheran Coffee." This "coffee" is almost the shade of Lipton tea, but is not quite as red. Old Man Lutheran Coffee is almost transparent; certainly one can see the bottom of the cup when the coffee is poured. I don't marvel at the weakness of the coffee, but that a 90-year-old man would be willing to urinate with the frequency necessary to consume 7 pots of coffee.
Since Oliver is now sipping coffee with the heavenly court, maybe I'll figure out the mysteries of this culture on the other side of heaven when he greets me in heaven's basement. Heaven's basement wouldn't be hell, just the place where Oliver probably prefers to be after a full day of praising God.
I served in 7 congregations throughout the NGP/UM Lutheran Holy Land, walking a wide enough circle around the Coffistas to be able to observe coffee culture with a bemused detachment. Until 2009.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
An evolving relationship with coffee (part 2)
I thought the cultural attachment to coffee in the Northern Great Plains/Upper Midwest (NGP/UM) strange as I moved more deeply into congregational life. The relationship to coffee appeared different in the Pacific Northwest in my simultaneous regional observations. In the early 90's coffee developed into a heavy commerce/status/survival commodity in the Pacific Northwest. Commerce, because coffee stands sprung up like rainy season mushrooms all over the PNW, in any old place. As a non-coffee drinker, I saw it as a status/commerce thing at the time. However, after repeated visits to the PNW, my dear wife commented that coffee was more of a survival drink, offering a means to get through mind-altering and numerous overcast days. I found that argument persuasive, though I still could not relate. So much money and effort placed on something that tasted like something brewed from dishwater, dirt and acid.
Coffee in the NGP/UM Lutheran culture became annoying--it was a social ticket in any congregation with which I came in contact. I literally received gasps when I refused coffee. What does one do with their hands and mouth during a conversation? How does one stay awake during an Adult Bible Study on a Sunday morning? I joke that I almost wasn't ordained or graduated from seminary because part of the examination period involved being offered a cup of coffee. If I didn't accept, I failed and would be removed from the program. This joke was not completely baseless; I had one instance where I thought I was failing on my internship because of coffee. A local pastor was visibly offended when I refused coffee at a meeting and insisted multiple times I had a cup. "What do you MEAN you don't drink coffee (can't Baptists enter into anything without judgment--I'll have to talk with my friend Theobilly the Baptist about this one)?!??!???" Having a weak self-esteem bubble, I gagged through a cup and 1/2 and felt a racing heart mangled taste buds the rest of the morning.
Marriage offered me no shelter from coffee culture--my dear wife loves her coffee. Few things solidify and care for our marriage like the dependable cup of coffee brewed in the morning, it speaks something about the commitment of love. She taught me the art of working with espresso--and I have developed into a decent amateur barista. We've worked our way through two espresso machines in nearly 12 years of marriage, and are in need of a third. I attempted to resurrect our last machine, but broke it beyond repair in that attempt. The Frugal Rule is so strong that we are holding off on a new machine purchase until our budget can help us acquire a higher quality device. But we have our basic Mr. Coffee to get us through the interim period. My dear wife has never been a militant coffee activist. She has never derided me for my simple freedom to reject coffee--only that I tolerate her simple(?) pleasure and not look down on keeping it as a household staple. No problem there. Though I don't like the taste or smell of coffee, it doesn't evoke the gag reflex like the banana or paper mache.
After ordination and graduation from seminary, I became more resolute in my personal rejection of coffee, but it wasn't merely the coffee institution, but the entire idea of caffeine. I wondered about the need for such a stimulant. A very good friend of mine used to carry large gas station containers of java wherever he went at the seminary--I could identify a place he landed, because he left his coffee jugs all over campus with his papers and books. One day in a real smart-aleck tone I told him--"I don't need coffee, I just sleep. It works a lot better for studying." Part of this declaration involved what I learned trying to pull all-nighters...but I still had (have) a lot to learn.
Coffee in the NGP/UM Lutheran culture became annoying--it was a social ticket in any congregation with which I came in contact. I literally received gasps when I refused coffee. What does one do with their hands and mouth during a conversation? How does one stay awake during an Adult Bible Study on a Sunday morning? I joke that I almost wasn't ordained or graduated from seminary because part of the examination period involved being offered a cup of coffee. If I didn't accept, I failed and would be removed from the program. This joke was not completely baseless; I had one instance where I thought I was failing on my internship because of coffee. A local pastor was visibly offended when I refused coffee at a meeting and insisted multiple times I had a cup. "What do you MEAN you don't drink coffee (can't Baptists enter into anything without judgment--I'll have to talk with my friend Theobilly the Baptist about this one)?!??!???" Having a weak self-esteem bubble, I gagged through a cup and 1/2 and felt a racing heart mangled taste buds the rest of the morning.
Marriage offered me no shelter from coffee culture--my dear wife loves her coffee. Few things solidify and care for our marriage like the dependable cup of coffee brewed in the morning, it speaks something about the commitment of love. She taught me the art of working with espresso--and I have developed into a decent amateur barista. We've worked our way through two espresso machines in nearly 12 years of marriage, and are in need of a third. I attempted to resurrect our last machine, but broke it beyond repair in that attempt. The Frugal Rule is so strong that we are holding off on a new machine purchase until our budget can help us acquire a higher quality device. But we have our basic Mr. Coffee to get us through the interim period. My dear wife has never been a militant coffee activist. She has never derided me for my simple freedom to reject coffee--only that I tolerate her simple(?) pleasure and not look down on keeping it as a household staple. No problem there. Though I don't like the taste or smell of coffee, it doesn't evoke the gag reflex like the banana or paper mache.
After ordination and graduation from seminary, I became more resolute in my personal rejection of coffee, but it wasn't merely the coffee institution, but the entire idea of caffeine. I wondered about the need for such a stimulant. A very good friend of mine used to carry large gas station containers of java wherever he went at the seminary--I could identify a place he landed, because he left his coffee jugs all over campus with his papers and books. One day in a real smart-aleck tone I told him--"I don't need coffee, I just sleep. It works a lot better for studying." Part of this declaration involved what I learned trying to pull all-nighters...but I still had (have) a lot to learn.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
An evolving relationship with coffee (part 1)
I live in a borderland region between idealism and pragmatism. Nothing has made me realize such borderland living than raising children.
Life in idealism says that I have control in my life. I do not need the typical human aides for day to day life. Life in pragmatism says that I need to make choices that will allow me to uphold my values even when those choices may go against personal preferences in the short term. I do not write of a deep ethical deliberation, I write about my evolving relationship with coffee--from the place of idealism to pragmatism.
The prominent adults in my life, except for my father, began their day and jolted their mid-day with a terrible product I knew as Taster's Choice instant coffee. The brown crystalline powder smelled of landfill dirt laced with acid. My Mom and Granddad drank it, and it was the one drink in the house (besides booze) that it was easy from which to keep me. Despite its mysterious aversive qualities, that green or red decorated glass jar was a morning icon of sorts. This instant coffee, in all its putridity, signified grown-up culture. The grown-ups knew something that the children did not know. For all I wanted to know about being a grown-up, this coffee substance was a mystery for which I had no complaint. Occasionally I tried to drink from this mystery, only to send shudders throughout my nerve endings. It was something that my love for straight sugar could not serve. Though I could eat straight sugar cubes and spoonfuls of brown sugar, not even piles of sugar at the church coffee stop could make that dirty liquid taste appealing, even with a deep desire to be a grown-up myself, it still tasted terrible.
I avoided coffee throughout most of my teenage years. When my friends started drinking coffee on late night trips to Denny's or local coffee houses, I discovered a more palatable bitter beverage. Earl Grey became my bitter beverage of choice--it provided an enjoyable jolt and for some reason I enjoyed its bitter better. I think it may have tasted better because it became the beverage of my ever expanding ideas of the world--late night discussions with friends.
For some reason, I moved away from Earl Grey during my undergraduate days at the University of Kansas. Somehow the name Earl Grey doesn't match Kansas. While some drank coffee at all night study sessions, I surmised I needed to make the cultural leap toward coffee. At the church that opened its doors to late night studiers with coffee and donuts in Lawrence--I took a sip of coffee and thought I needed to find something else--all of the awful memories of this drink did not change. The commercials for General Foods International Coffees gave me an image of hot cocoa with a jolt. This beverage still tasted putrid to me. I moved on to Mountain Dew to get me through the study session. After attempting 4 all night sessions, falling asleep during one of my Russian History final examination, I learned that studying throughout the semester and sleeping well was a better equation for academic success than stimulant beverages.
When I continued my academic career in Minnesota, I was more immersed in Lutheran culture than ever before, and that jokes about coffee culture that I thought were exaggerated were not tall tales. Some said that along with Baptism and Communion coffee was the "third Sacrament." Coffee appeared to be a social pillar like cigarettes or alcohol--I wondered if a group of Minnesotans couldn't get together without sharing coffee. I loved Minnesota, and it represented a huge positive shift in my life, but this was a cultural institution I wanted to avoid. Looking back, I still wanted to maintain my own identity in this powerful cultural milieu. If you don't believe that Northern Great Plains/Upper Midwest Lutheranism is not a powerful cultural milieu, consider Garrison Keillor's A Prairie Home Companion. I once believed this was a comedic exaggeration I would never understand, but learned in 16 years of living in the heart of Northern Great Plains/Upper Midwest Lutheran culture, that it is no comedic exaggeration, but only highlighting cultural idiosyncrasies with gifted storytelling with a willingness not to take self too seriously. Avoiding coffee was my way of still maintaining self in the midst of strong formational cultural presence. These cultural distinctions appear not to matter much, but I think these cultural interactions we witness in the midst of a mobile society offer all kinds of points about how we create culture and how we as humans build relationships and societies.
Life in idealism says that I have control in my life. I do not need the typical human aides for day to day life. Life in pragmatism says that I need to make choices that will allow me to uphold my values even when those choices may go against personal preferences in the short term. I do not write of a deep ethical deliberation, I write about my evolving relationship with coffee--from the place of idealism to pragmatism.
The prominent adults in my life, except for my father, began their day and jolted their mid-day with a terrible product I knew as Taster's Choice instant coffee. The brown crystalline powder smelled of landfill dirt laced with acid. My Mom and Granddad drank it, and it was the one drink in the house (besides booze) that it was easy from which to keep me. Despite its mysterious aversive qualities, that green or red decorated glass jar was a morning icon of sorts. This instant coffee, in all its putridity, signified grown-up culture. The grown-ups knew something that the children did not know. For all I wanted to know about being a grown-up, this coffee substance was a mystery for which I had no complaint. Occasionally I tried to drink from this mystery, only to send shudders throughout my nerve endings. It was something that my love for straight sugar could not serve. Though I could eat straight sugar cubes and spoonfuls of brown sugar, not even piles of sugar at the church coffee stop could make that dirty liquid taste appealing, even with a deep desire to be a grown-up myself, it still tasted terrible.
I avoided coffee throughout most of my teenage years. When my friends started drinking coffee on late night trips to Denny's or local coffee houses, I discovered a more palatable bitter beverage. Earl Grey became my bitter beverage of choice--it provided an enjoyable jolt and for some reason I enjoyed its bitter better. I think it may have tasted better because it became the beverage of my ever expanding ideas of the world--late night discussions with friends.
For some reason, I moved away from Earl Grey during my undergraduate days at the University of Kansas. Somehow the name Earl Grey doesn't match Kansas. While some drank coffee at all night study sessions, I surmised I needed to make the cultural leap toward coffee. At the church that opened its doors to late night studiers with coffee and donuts in Lawrence--I took a sip of coffee and thought I needed to find something else--all of the awful memories of this drink did not change. The commercials for General Foods International Coffees gave me an image of hot cocoa with a jolt. This beverage still tasted putrid to me. I moved on to Mountain Dew to get me through the study session. After attempting 4 all night sessions, falling asleep during one of my Russian History final examination, I learned that studying throughout the semester and sleeping well was a better equation for academic success than stimulant beverages.
When I continued my academic career in Minnesota, I was more immersed in Lutheran culture than ever before, and that jokes about coffee culture that I thought were exaggerated were not tall tales. Some said that along with Baptism and Communion coffee was the "third Sacrament." Coffee appeared to be a social pillar like cigarettes or alcohol--I wondered if a group of Minnesotans couldn't get together without sharing coffee. I loved Minnesota, and it represented a huge positive shift in my life, but this was a cultural institution I wanted to avoid. Looking back, I still wanted to maintain my own identity in this powerful cultural milieu. If you don't believe that Northern Great Plains/Upper Midwest Lutheranism is not a powerful cultural milieu, consider Garrison Keillor's A Prairie Home Companion. I once believed this was a comedic exaggeration I would never understand, but learned in 16 years of living in the heart of Northern Great Plains/Upper Midwest Lutheran culture, that it is no comedic exaggeration, but only highlighting cultural idiosyncrasies with gifted storytelling with a willingness not to take self too seriously. Avoiding coffee was my way of still maintaining self in the midst of strong formational cultural presence. These cultural distinctions appear not to matter much, but I think these cultural interactions we witness in the midst of a mobile society offer all kinds of points about how we create culture and how we as humans build relationships and societies.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Dipping my toes into thematic preaching: inheritance (for Sunday, June 21, 2009)
In the past 24 hours I have sprinted my sermon preparation in order to participate in thematic preaching for my context on Sunday, June 21, 2009.
Working through this sermon preparation, I realize that I am more out of my comfort zone than I have been in years with a sermon. This lack of comfort is not a curse--I suppose that almost any preacher does not like to have their preparation routine altered. The big changes:
1. Producing a sermon title. It's not a very good title, but I agonized until about 1:30 am on a theme. I am facing a deadline today.
2. Producing a theme. As I have previously shared, one of my preaching caveats is to keep my own agendas in check. Sure, agendas come out, and I am attempting to be real with myself and God about my biases and hope that God does something with the word I speak.
Once I owned the fact that I have biases, I ask God to do something with my thoughts and put out something gracious and useful that is faithful in my preparation and preaching. I find it hard to turn away from provocation of James Wellman's study in any of my reflections of life in the Church, especially in the Pacific Northwest. One of my significant discoveries in this book is how mainline liberal and conservative evangelical Protestants respond to the religious landscape in the Pacific Northwest. The liberals tend to respond with complaint, and the evangelicals see the religious landscape as ripe with opportunity--Wellman goes so far as to call the evangelical response to the religious landscape "almost giddy."
I know that the congregation to which I am preaching is working toward expanding their physical plant and ministry in the area--a bold move for a liberal Protestant congregation in the Pacific Northwest. Unfortunately, I have to make more assumptions than I normally would about a context, and I will need to offer rhetorical questions to the congregation about how they see their place and life in the region, their relationship with God, and their call to ministry in that place. With the crux of the issue being response to ministry in a particular place, I consulted my study tools.
This homiletical preparation also represents a passion that I continue to refine, and I'm not sure what to call it. I finally have an opportunity to preach and teach with my desired audience, Christians in the Pacific Northwest. Call it a Geography, Sociology and Theology of the Pacific Northwest.
Returning to one of my most reliable theologians, Walter Brueggemann. I consulted three of his books:
1. The Land: Place as Gift, Promise, and Challenge in Biblical Faith
2. Reverberations of Faith: A Theological Handbook of Old Testament Themes
3. Old Testament Theology
Based on the title of the first book--Brueggemann's premise is that Torah proclaims land as a gift from rather than a personal possession. With land being a gift and supported with the language of inheritance in the Old Testament, it would appear that the evangelical response to the land and its opportunities for ministry as a gift. What is the appropriate response to a gift? Certainly this is a challenge in today's culture, when gift card giving has exploded in popularity and gifts in general have become less thoughtful even though they remain an important social currency. The response to a gift with a complaint would probably still be frowned upon, but regardless of social stigma, what does a complaint about the gift say about the relationship between giver and receiver? Since children are probably more likely to complain about a gift, a complaint says something about the maturity level of the receiver. The giver has a teaching moment about thankfulness and grace to the receiver. Assuming that the receiver of the gift is not a child, a complaint about a gift reveals that the relationship has broken down--whether it is mistrust, anger, selfishness, etc.
I see complaints from mainline Protestants about their context, their inheritance of their context as a disposition of living by unquestioned assumptions and entitlement. Wellman lifts up these unquestioned assumptions among mainline Protestants in the conclusion of his study: "Grace...is readily available...one must simply awaken to the fact that one is fully accepted and loved by God. The beauty of this is God's extravagant generosity. The unintended problem comes relative to the church: Why come to church for this spiritual resource? Why is the church a unique instrument of this spiritual resource? The answer is that the church is not necessary...What is important about the church? How is it an essential resource for this form of spiritual capital? Why should one dedicate one's life to the church (281)?" When I hear a complaint about the gift of land/context, I see church leaders who believe they are entitled to people's hearts and minds without deeply considering the questions that Wellman so astutely poses.
Without at least wrestling with foundational "so what" kinds of questions, why should anyone consider being a part of a mainline Protestant Christian congregation? I think some of Wellman's statements are misplaced on Lutherans because our theology diverts from overarching liberal theology on some points, but his central challenges for mainline Protestants fit, and sometimes they are hard to examine. It is hard to have a life time worth of work challenged, not to mention one's own culture. What makes these challenges a little easier for me is that I am not deeply entrenched in the cultural side of Lutheran life. Most of my family lives outside Lutheran circles, and I have a support system not wholly invested in Lutheran culture. My dear wife was raised in deep Midwest Lutheran culture, but her sense of vocation has led her to examine assumptions and not enmesh Lutheran theology with Lutheran culture. I admire my dear wife for her insight and courage. Where there may be some consequences if I challenged the Lutheran establishments' assumptions and attitudes, I will not lose all of my significant relationships, as a Muslim converting to Judaism or as an Orthodox Jew converting to Christianity might experience ostracization. My wife would not lose her relationships, either, but the challenges that she addresses represent a more significant cultural diversion. The challenges for Lutheran Christians in the Pacific Northwest in the mainline Protestant milieu are daunting--but these challenges are possible to address with God.
One of my preaching professors always assigned us to boil our sermons down to a single sentence--here is my first attempt. I leave with this sentence in order that I may take these thoughts and marinate them with the texts:
If the land/context is a gift from God, can we in the church be faithful to God if we put our energy toward complaint?
Working through this sermon preparation, I realize that I am more out of my comfort zone than I have been in years with a sermon. This lack of comfort is not a curse--I suppose that almost any preacher does not like to have their preparation routine altered. The big changes:
1. Producing a sermon title. It's not a very good title, but I agonized until about 1:30 am on a theme. I am facing a deadline today.
2. Producing a theme. As I have previously shared, one of my preaching caveats is to keep my own agendas in check. Sure, agendas come out, and I am attempting to be real with myself and God about my biases and hope that God does something with the word I speak.
Once I owned the fact that I have biases, I ask God to do something with my thoughts and put out something gracious and useful that is faithful in my preparation and preaching. I find it hard to turn away from provocation of James Wellman's study in any of my reflections of life in the Church, especially in the Pacific Northwest. One of my significant discoveries in this book is how mainline liberal and conservative evangelical Protestants respond to the religious landscape in the Pacific Northwest. The liberals tend to respond with complaint, and the evangelicals see the religious landscape as ripe with opportunity--Wellman goes so far as to call the evangelical response to the religious landscape "almost giddy."
I know that the congregation to which I am preaching is working toward expanding their physical plant and ministry in the area--a bold move for a liberal Protestant congregation in the Pacific Northwest. Unfortunately, I have to make more assumptions than I normally would about a context, and I will need to offer rhetorical questions to the congregation about how they see their place and life in the region, their relationship with God, and their call to ministry in that place. With the crux of the issue being response to ministry in a particular place, I consulted my study tools.
This homiletical preparation also represents a passion that I continue to refine, and I'm not sure what to call it. I finally have an opportunity to preach and teach with my desired audience, Christians in the Pacific Northwest. Call it a Geography, Sociology and Theology of the Pacific Northwest.
Returning to one of my most reliable theologians, Walter Brueggemann. I consulted three of his books:
1. The Land: Place as Gift, Promise, and Challenge in Biblical Faith
2. Reverberations of Faith: A Theological Handbook of Old Testament Themes
3. Old Testament Theology
Based on the title of the first book--Brueggemann's premise is that Torah proclaims land as a gift from rather than a personal possession. With land being a gift and supported with the language of inheritance in the Old Testament, it would appear that the evangelical response to the land and its opportunities for ministry as a gift. What is the appropriate response to a gift? Certainly this is a challenge in today's culture, when gift card giving has exploded in popularity and gifts in general have become less thoughtful even though they remain an important social currency. The response to a gift with a complaint would probably still be frowned upon, but regardless of social stigma, what does a complaint about the gift say about the relationship between giver and receiver? Since children are probably more likely to complain about a gift, a complaint says something about the maturity level of the receiver. The giver has a teaching moment about thankfulness and grace to the receiver. Assuming that the receiver of the gift is not a child, a complaint about a gift reveals that the relationship has broken down--whether it is mistrust, anger, selfishness, etc.
I see complaints from mainline Protestants about their context, their inheritance of their context as a disposition of living by unquestioned assumptions and entitlement. Wellman lifts up these unquestioned assumptions among mainline Protestants in the conclusion of his study: "Grace...is readily available...one must simply awaken to the fact that one is fully accepted and loved by God. The beauty of this is God's extravagant generosity. The unintended problem comes relative to the church: Why come to church for this spiritual resource? Why is the church a unique instrument of this spiritual resource? The answer is that the church is not necessary...What is important about the church? How is it an essential resource for this form of spiritual capital? Why should one dedicate one's life to the church (281)?" When I hear a complaint about the gift of land/context, I see church leaders who believe they are entitled to people's hearts and minds without deeply considering the questions that Wellman so astutely poses.
Without at least wrestling with foundational "so what" kinds of questions, why should anyone consider being a part of a mainline Protestant Christian congregation? I think some of Wellman's statements are misplaced on Lutherans because our theology diverts from overarching liberal theology on some points, but his central challenges for mainline Protestants fit, and sometimes they are hard to examine. It is hard to have a life time worth of work challenged, not to mention one's own culture. What makes these challenges a little easier for me is that I am not deeply entrenched in the cultural side of Lutheran life. Most of my family lives outside Lutheran circles, and I have a support system not wholly invested in Lutheran culture. My dear wife was raised in deep Midwest Lutheran culture, but her sense of vocation has led her to examine assumptions and not enmesh Lutheran theology with Lutheran culture. I admire my dear wife for her insight and courage. Where there may be some consequences if I challenged the Lutheran establishments' assumptions and attitudes, I will not lose all of my significant relationships, as a Muslim converting to Judaism or as an Orthodox Jew converting to Christianity might experience ostracization. My wife would not lose her relationships, either, but the challenges that she addresses represent a more significant cultural diversion. The challenges for Lutheran Christians in the Pacific Northwest in the mainline Protestant milieu are daunting--but these challenges are possible to address with God.
One of my preaching professors always assigned us to boil our sermons down to a single sentence--here is my first attempt. I leave with this sentence in order that I may take these thoughts and marinate them with the texts:
If the land/context is a gift from God, can we in the church be faithful to God if we put our energy toward complaint?
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
More on homiletic marinades: to Lectionary or not to Lectionary--is that the question?
Sunday morning came quickly last week, with sermon muscles somewhat atrophied and a minimal understanding of context, I had a hard time centering on my approach beyond my prayers for wisdom and guidance. One benefit I have in the pulpit supply realm of preaching is that I can recycle stories. I don't recycle sermons per se; during multiple service Sundays, I can change the sermon without even planning on doing so.
I hold on to some tried and true stories--some stories operate as their own marinade because of their tenderizing and flavorful features, like lemon or soy. I pulled out a story Sunday for approximately the 5th or 6th time. Maisie DeVore's story of persistently working to give her rural community a place for children and community members to play, relax and rest during hot prairie days with a swimming pool is not only inspiring on many levels, but it also carries several baptismal images. Baptism brings families, the community of faith, and the body of Christ together in powerful ways. The story appears to resonate with worshippers no matter in what context I tell it--the story serves as a good ingredient in the homiletic marinade.
The homiletic marinade recipe changes again this week--I am preaching in a congregation that doesn't use the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL), a three-year cycle of Bible readings. The RCL has been a helpful preaching resource for me over the years, mostly because it is a check (though not fool proof) on making my agenda the foundation of the sermon. I am forced to consider the text and what it says. Using the RCL weekly, I have 4 texts from which to choose, and I can sometimes avoid what God may have to say on a particular Sunday. I'm not against preaching off the RCL--I've tied myself to it also as a survival mechanism. As an interim pastor I often place my energy into working with a congregation's transition than expanding my preaching horizons beyond the tools I use, such as projection screens and images, and moving away from manuscript preaching.
A few years ago, I was persuaded by Bill Easum and Thomas Bandy that the RCL was an insider cycle of Bible readings, assuming that hearers were at least acquainted with the Biblical narrative. I tend to work with congregations that are already inwardly focused because of trauma or decline, and therefore I used that as an excuse to not create Bible readings and sermons closely related to the community and its relationship to the word of God. Easum and Bandy advocate for preachers to create an "Uncommon Lectionary" that is context and community specific. Honestly, I haven't had the gumption or the courage to move in this direction. Now my hand is nearly forced. I think it looks weak for me to go back to the RCL in this non-RCL congregation. I've preached off the RCL maybe 10 times or less in the past 6 or 7 years--that number may be generous. I'm almost at a loss for how to marinade this sermon, especially when I have an artificial deadline--the congregation has a bulleitn to produce and a sermon title to promote. I haven't worked with this type of artificial deadline since my internship. I resented my supervisor--it seemed to serve his need to control things than to do anything specific for my development. How do I marinade this sermon beyond some of my core practices?
I have some themes I have been pondering, many come from reading James Wellman's latest sociology of religion book and some key themes in response:
1. What do you/we make of Mainline Protestants' uneasyness with the Great Commisssion?
2. When you look at the Pacific Northwest and its relationship to the Church, what is your reaction? Do you tend to:
a) complain
b) see opportunities
c) want to give up
d) don't care one way or another
e) all of the above
f) none of the above
3. What does our relationship with the land mean in our relationship with God and our neighbor?
I've considered theme #2 more of something that drives me close to graduate work, teaching opportunities and leadership development. Theme #1 has more preaching potential, but it also assumes a great deal about a community of which I know little. I still have at least 18 hours to arrive at my theme--and I will probably use a lot of those hours. I'll take input where ever I can receive it.
I hold on to some tried and true stories--some stories operate as their own marinade because of their tenderizing and flavorful features, like lemon or soy. I pulled out a story Sunday for approximately the 5th or 6th time. Maisie DeVore's story of persistently working to give her rural community a place for children and community members to play, relax and rest during hot prairie days with a swimming pool is not only inspiring on many levels, but it also carries several baptismal images. Baptism brings families, the community of faith, and the body of Christ together in powerful ways. The story appears to resonate with worshippers no matter in what context I tell it--the story serves as a good ingredient in the homiletic marinade.
The homiletic marinade recipe changes again this week--I am preaching in a congregation that doesn't use the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL), a three-year cycle of Bible readings. The RCL has been a helpful preaching resource for me over the years, mostly because it is a check (though not fool proof) on making my agenda the foundation of the sermon. I am forced to consider the text and what it says. Using the RCL weekly, I have 4 texts from which to choose, and I can sometimes avoid what God may have to say on a particular Sunday. I'm not against preaching off the RCL--I've tied myself to it also as a survival mechanism. As an interim pastor I often place my energy into working with a congregation's transition than expanding my preaching horizons beyond the tools I use, such as projection screens and images, and moving away from manuscript preaching.
A few years ago, I was persuaded by Bill Easum and Thomas Bandy that the RCL was an insider cycle of Bible readings, assuming that hearers were at least acquainted with the Biblical narrative. I tend to work with congregations that are already inwardly focused because of trauma or decline, and therefore I used that as an excuse to not create Bible readings and sermons closely related to the community and its relationship to the word of God. Easum and Bandy advocate for preachers to create an "Uncommon Lectionary" that is context and community specific. Honestly, I haven't had the gumption or the courage to move in this direction. Now my hand is nearly forced. I think it looks weak for me to go back to the RCL in this non-RCL congregation. I've preached off the RCL maybe 10 times or less in the past 6 or 7 years--that number may be generous. I'm almost at a loss for how to marinade this sermon, especially when I have an artificial deadline--the congregation has a bulleitn to produce and a sermon title to promote. I haven't worked with this type of artificial deadline since my internship. I resented my supervisor--it seemed to serve his need to control things than to do anything specific for my development. How do I marinade this sermon beyond some of my core practices?
I have some themes I have been pondering, many come from reading James Wellman's latest sociology of religion book and some key themes in response:
1. What do you/we make of Mainline Protestants' uneasyness with the Great Commisssion?
2. When you look at the Pacific Northwest and its relationship to the Church, what is your reaction? Do you tend to:
a) complain
b) see opportunities
c) want to give up
d) don't care one way or another
e) all of the above
f) none of the above
3. What does our relationship with the land mean in our relationship with God and our neighbor?
I've considered theme #2 more of something that drives me close to graduate work, teaching opportunities and leadership development. Theme #1 has more preaching potential, but it also assumes a great deal about a community of which I know little. I still have at least 18 hours to arrive at my theme--and I will probably use a lot of those hours. I'll take input where ever I can receive it.
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