It has been a busy weekend, starting Friday afternoon. The men's group at my church held a retreat at an event center not far from a great caching park. The spiritual leader of the weekend was John Baker, who is now in Alexandria, VA, but was at my church when I first starting attending. [ He also used to own a car repair shop that is still open and still called by the original name - Baker Auto. ] It was a great weekend for all, but especially for me, I think, because one of the greatest disadvantages to being in a church choir is that you don't get a chance to meet a lot of the other folks in church, in spite of the fact that you're often there more often (or at least more consistently) than many of the members. So I enjoyed actually meeting a lot of familiar faces.
Today (Sunday) was also the day for the 'other' singing group that I'm in. We elected to have a professional photographer shoot our promotional photo that we will use in our advertisements and other marketing collateral. I am curious as to how the photos will turn out; we certainly did spent quite a bit of time arranging the members and selecting a variety of locations.
After the shoot we gathered at the director's house for a potluck supper that ended up being quite a feast. Hopefully this (sans the photo shoot) will become a 5th Sunday tradition!
Sunday, April 29, 2007
GeoGreeting
BDD posted a link to a fun url - GeoGreeting. It's a yet another site that allows you construct personalized messages, but in this case the letters are actually overhead shots of buildings.
Here's an example.
Here's an example.
My Personal Blog
For those of you reading along at home: this is my personal blog. Since I am independent consultant, I don't need to say this, but the opinions expressed herein are mine and do not necessarily reflect the views of my employers.
Since it is my personal blog, I feel entitled to write whatever I want. In fact, that's the only reason that this blog exists: to allow me a public forum in which to state whatever I want to say. To suggest otherwise is ludicrous.
By extension, I have no qualms about moderating any comments left on this blog (though I have yet to do so). Visitors have no first amendment rights here. If you have something to say, say it, but if I don't like it, tough. Start your own blog and say whatever you want to say there if you have a strong desire to make yourself heard. It's cheap and easy.
It is only in the Commons, such as community forums and the like, that anyone should have any expectation of privilege.
Since it is my personal blog, I feel entitled to write whatever I want. In fact, that's the only reason that this blog exists: to allow me a public forum in which to state whatever I want to say. To suggest otherwise is ludicrous.
By extension, I have no qualms about moderating any comments left on this blog (though I have yet to do so). Visitors have no first amendment rights here. If you have something to say, say it, but if I don't like it, tough. Start your own blog and say whatever you want to say there if you have a strong desire to make yourself heard. It's cheap and easy.
It is only in the Commons, such as community forums and the like, that anyone should have any expectation of privilege.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Geocaching & People
I am a geocacher. To those of you unfamiliar with the term, suffice it to say that I use billion-dollar military satellite technology to find tupperware containers hidden in the woods. Hey, everybody needs a hobby. I belong to several geocaching organizations, including the Geocachers Of West Tennessee, founded by my friend Steve Spencer aka spencersb and the Jackson Area Geocachers, founded by my friend Damon Mays, aka BigDaddyD.
There is some tension between the two organizations, which is strange when you consider that belonging to a geocaching organization is optional and of little real value. Really, there appears to be some tension/dislike/animosity/hate between specific individuals in the two organizations. The situation is not pleasant, and occasionally it is difficult, especially when you hear or read people from one side say ugly things about the other. All of which is to say that I've determined that my geocaching experience, at least as it regards to cachers, is a lot like my work experience, as it regards to workers. To wit:
Substitute geocache for work and the axioms hold. Some of my feelings are driven by differences in opinion on what geocaching means. The first and the fourth are obvious, but the second and the third have made work - and geocaching - more interesting. I've had co-workers who were interesting, kind, good-hearted people, but who were completely inept in their jobs. I've had co-workers who were skilled professionals, but unethical, callous, and rude.
For those who haven't geocached, trust me when I say that there is quite a variety of opinions about the trivia of geocaching: what it means to claim the finding of a geocache, what is the intent of placing a geocache, where should they be placed, even what size container is appropriate. Ultimately these are petty distinctions, though. Geocaching is voluntary, and the specifics of hiding and searching for geocaches enjoys remarkable liberty. These differences aren't what are driving the the GOWT vs. JAG feud, though. I think the reasons for those fights are more universal and rooted in fear, mistrust, greed, and lust.
There is some tension between the two organizations, which is strange when you consider that belonging to a geocaching organization is optional and of little real value. Really, there appears to be some tension/dislike/animosity/hate between specific individuals in the two organizations. The situation is not pleasant, and occasionally it is difficult, especially when you hear or read people from one side say ugly things about the other. All of which is to say that I've determined that my geocaching experience, at least as it regards to cachers, is a lot like my work experience, as it regards to workers. To wit:
- There are people that I like that I like to work with.
- There are people that I do not like that I like to work with.
- There are people that I like that I do not like to work with.
- There are people that I do not like that I do not like to work with.
Substitute geocache for work and the axioms hold. Some of my feelings are driven by differences in opinion on what geocaching means. The first and the fourth are obvious, but the second and the third have made work - and geocaching - more interesting. I've had co-workers who were interesting, kind, good-hearted people, but who were completely inept in their jobs. I've had co-workers who were skilled professionals, but unethical, callous, and rude.
For those who haven't geocached, trust me when I say that there is quite a variety of opinions about the trivia of geocaching: what it means to claim the finding of a geocache, what is the intent of placing a geocache, where should they be placed, even what size container is appropriate. Ultimately these are petty distinctions, though. Geocaching is voluntary, and the specifics of hiding and searching for geocaches enjoys remarkable liberty. These differences aren't what are driving the the GOWT vs. JAG feud, though. I think the reasons for those fights are more universal and rooted in fear, mistrust, greed, and lust.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Cache Maintenance and the Felling of Trees
This morning I got up early and went out to do a little cache maintenance. A friend from grad school has recently started caching; he told me that the log for Arc d' Memphis was full, so I replaced it. I then drove over to do a little work on In the Middle of East Memphis.
Recently I had visited IMEM to check on the container, which had been reported missing. Sure enough, the container, which was suspended 20 feet up in a tree and attached by wire cable, was gone. Fortunately, there were plenty of clues as to who took it, as the surrounding area was filled with pot-smoking kids, some sitting in the tree next to where I was standing. They had driven a vehicle back into the park and had the doors wide open, playing the stereo. Did I mention that there was a park picnic table mounted up in one of the trees?
This morning I returned to the park to find a new situation. Shortly after walking back to the original container site, a park service vehicle drove by, followed shortly thereafter by two dump trucks and a front-end loader. The real change, though, was that the park commission has cut all of the lower limbs off of the magnolias and is cleaning up the debris.
On one of the trees youths had already nailed 2x4's to re-create the steps provided by the branches. They had even painted a message on them, something like "Patrick and Drew will find a way" and "why did you do this to our trees" and some insults for the park commission. Maybe they will get to enjoy the trees. I hope that this is the beginning of a better Audubon park.
Recently I had visited IMEM to check on the container, which had been reported missing. Sure enough, the container, which was suspended 20 feet up in a tree and attached by wire cable, was gone. Fortunately, there were plenty of clues as to who took it, as the surrounding area was filled with pot-smoking kids, some sitting in the tree next to where I was standing. They had driven a vehicle back into the park and had the doors wide open, playing the stereo. Did I mention that there was a park picnic table mounted up in one of the trees?
This morning I returned to the park to find a new situation. Shortly after walking back to the original container site, a park service vehicle drove by, followed shortly thereafter by two dump trucks and a front-end loader. The real change, though, was that the park commission has cut all of the lower limbs off of the magnolias and is cleaning up the debris.
On one of the trees youths had already nailed 2x4's to re-create the steps provided by the branches. They had even painted a message on them, something like "Patrick and Drew will find a way" and "why did you do this to our trees" and some insults for the park commission. Maybe they will get to enjoy the trees. I hope that this is the beginning of a better Audubon park.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
CITO and #800
Yesterday I woke early, dressed in some old clothes (including my favorite long sleeved shirt), and drove out a little past Jackson, TN to Natchez Trace State Park. The park is the largest state park in TN and home to several lakes, lots of trails of the equestrian and hiking kind, several campsites and less rustic places to stay. It was also the site of the first Jackson Area Geocachers CITO event, which was the reason for my visit. The 2 hour drive was uneventful except for the threat of rain and the chance encounter (!) of cgeek and Mackheath making their way to Jackson for a day of caching. I, on the otherhand, encountered a couple of turkeys on the road into the park, and was followed closely by the event organizer, BigDaddyD, and his wife Mrs. T. We were joined shortly thereafter by LilLuckyClover, Dalls, and Yogi. With various implements of destruction in hand we traversed a couple of the local trails and removed encroaching plantlife and trash. Along the way I picked up a couple of caches. After completing one trail, LLC and I hitched a ride and were driven to a couple of cache sites in the park; it's always handy to be riding with the cache maintainer, and BDD is also on the board of the 'Friends' association of the park. After lunch Yogi led/followed me as I picked up 5 more caches. A low total for the day perhaps (10), but just enough to bring my total number of finds to 800, which was my other goal for the day. I still have plenty of caches to find in the park, and what I've learned about the amenities is enough to convince my wife that she and I need to plan a visit during the summer.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
What I get out of caching
Recently I had occasion to talk to a bunch of fellow geocachers. I asked them a bunch of questions, but the most interesting point of the exchange was when one of them finally turned the tables and asked a question of the form, "What do you expect to get out of X?", where X is a geocaching group. I hadn't really considered the question before, though I had a fair idea, inspired, in part, by GOLUM, a Linux user group I formed years ago. A friend of mine even joked once that "[I'm] an organization man" and, in some ways, I guess I am. Perhaps this will be repetitious to some (all) of the readers of this entry, but I'll repeat myself if only to preserve my thoughts. My central premise is this:
When I organized GOLUM, I formed it chiefly to help draw out like-minded individuals in my community. I assumed that some of them knew more than I did about a particular subject of interest - Linux - and I thought that by providing a group I could meet them, facilitate an exchange of ideas, and teach myself and others a few new tricks. The Linux part was useful - it gave the group a common purpose - but I really expected a much broader benefit. I'm happy to say that I was right in that regard, as GOLUM members are diverse, bright and eclectic. Some of the members have had a tremendous impact on my life.
Now, I started caching because I thought the idea of a high-tech treasure hunt was cool - and it is. The very idea that orbiting satellites are providing real-time location information to a tiny, handheld radio is wonderful. Geocaching searches have taken me to obscure, interesting, dangerous, even beautiful places that I likely would never had seen. Still, at the end of the day I prefer caching with a friend to caching alone, and I think that talking about caching with other cachers is an important part of the game. I hope, though, that caching extends beyond that, in truly useful ways. I'm a believer in CITO for that reason: I think it extends geocaching to the surround community is a socially beneficial way. The caching crowd is another social/business network, but most of the cachers that I actually know go beyond trying to assess "who's who" or "who can do what for me." Yes, some of the sharing is superficial, but some of it is real, not for all, but for those who seek it.
So, what do I want out of a geocaching group? I want a chance for these sorts of interactions to occur. Real life bleeds into hobbies. Groups are a good way to take advantage of that.
I believe that most clubs are social in nature.
When I organized GOLUM, I formed it chiefly to help draw out like-minded individuals in my community. I assumed that some of them knew more than I did about a particular subject of interest - Linux - and I thought that by providing a group I could meet them, facilitate an exchange of ideas, and teach myself and others a few new tricks. The Linux part was useful - it gave the group a common purpose - but I really expected a much broader benefit. I'm happy to say that I was right in that regard, as GOLUM members are diverse, bright and eclectic. Some of the members have had a tremendous impact on my life.
Now, I started caching because I thought the idea of a high-tech treasure hunt was cool - and it is. The very idea that orbiting satellites are providing real-time location information to a tiny, handheld radio is wonderful. Geocaching searches have taken me to obscure, interesting, dangerous, even beautiful places that I likely would never had seen. Still, at the end of the day I prefer caching with a friend to caching alone, and I think that talking about caching with other cachers is an important part of the game. I hope, though, that caching extends beyond that, in truly useful ways. I'm a believer in CITO for that reason: I think it extends geocaching to the surround community is a socially beneficial way. The caching crowd is another social/business network, but most of the cachers that I actually know go beyond trying to assess "who's who" or "who can do what for me." Yes, some of the sharing is superficial, but some of it is real, not for all, but for those who seek it.
So, what do I want out of a geocaching group? I want a chance for these sorts of interactions to occur. Real life bleeds into hobbies. Groups are a good way to take advantage of that.
Sunday
Singing updates: last Sunday was Hoiby's Let This Mind Be in You, because of the associated NT reading. All in all it went well.
Later that afternoon was a Happy Birthday that doesn't quite count.
Chorale rehearsal focused on Down by the Salley Gardens, Persichetti's Song of Peace, and Lennon and McCartney's Yesterday. The Salley Gardens is coming along, though it is a bit sentimental for my tastes. Song of Peace still needs a little work, but I think it will be a very strong piece for us. Yesterday was suprisingly difficult to sing the first time, chiefly, I suspect, because so many of us were familiar with it. I, for one, kept singing what I expected (from years of radio exposure) rather than what was written. The second pass was markedly better, though, as the quarter vs. dotted quarter rhythms were corrected.
Later that afternoon was a Happy Birthday that doesn't quite count.
Chorale rehearsal focused on Down by the Salley Gardens, Persichetti's Song of Peace, and Lennon and McCartney's Yesterday. The Salley Gardens is coming along, though it is a bit sentimental for my tastes. Song of Peace still needs a little work, but I think it will be a very strong piece for us. Yesterday was suprisingly difficult to sing the first time, chiefly, I suspect, because so many of us were familiar with it. I, for one, kept singing what I expected (from years of radio exposure) rather than what was written. The second pass was markedly better, though, as the quarter vs. dotted quarter rhythms were corrected.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Engraving
I guess you could say that I have odd hobbies. During my most recent stint in grad school I came to appreciate typesetting since I produced a number of manuscripts intended for publication. For this I used LaTeX. LaTeX is about as far away from WYSIWYG "Word Processing" as you can get these days [there are editors to help with that, but I prefer text editors] , but I think the results are superior, and it is certainly easier in my opinion to do scientific publication preparation in LaTeX than, say, Microsoft Word. But I digress...
As you might have gathered, I like to sing, and I do sing in a couple of choirs. Without naming any names, suffice it to say that one of my choir directors hand-writes descants and the like for use with certain hymns we perform. Admittedly his fist is better than mine, but I still prefer a typeset look, or, as I recently learned, an engraved look. So I've taken up engraving, in part to reproduce his work in a more legible form, but also because I get some kind of (perverse?) pleasure in doing it. As a sample, the picture is of Breedlove's I'm Going Home. I've transformed it from shape-notation to a more modern form. [There are likely errors in transcription; use at your own risk. ]
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Garmin POI loader
Another neat garmin utility that I hadn't played around with before is the custom point of interest (POI) loader. This is another free download from the Garmin site. It allows you to upload comma-separated value (CSV) and gpx files to your Garmin unit.
[ Check the Garmin site for POI Loader compatibility with your unit. ]
On X units (i.e. those with microSD cards), these files are stored on the card rather than in the unit's memory. While this isn't a replacement for the built-in geocache functionality, it does offer some interesting options.:
There is a GSAK macro that produces entries in a useful CSV format, though some are simply uploading custom GPX files. I'll write more after I have used this software.
[ Check the Garmin site for POI Loader compatibility with your unit. ]
On X units (i.e. those with microSD cards), these files are stored on the card rather than in the unit's memory. While this isn't a replacement for the built-in geocache functionality, it does offer some interesting options.:
- the number of POIs is limited only by the size of the microSD card, rather than the hard limit (<1000?)>
- each entry can contain a latitude/longitude, name, and description (though there is a limit to the amount of text each entry can contain)
- Some people are using this feature to generated expanded listings, including difficulty/terrain - even decoded clues - for their geocache waypoints.
- custom POI's can be searched for and even used in auto-routing
- several different POI files (databases, according to Garmin) can be loaded at once, and the user can select which is displayed
- according to the documentation, custom waypoint icons can be associated with each POI file (though several people are having difficulty with this feature, and I have not tested it)
There is a GSAK macro that produces entries in a useful CSV format, though some are simply uploading custom GPX files. I'll write more after I have used this software.
Garmin xImage utility
While surfing the 'net the other night I came across a couple of articles describing utilities that work in conjunction with several models of Garmin GPS units. One is a utility called 'xImage' that allows you to send/receive screenshots and waypoint images(?) to/from your Garmin GPS. xImage is a free download from the Garmin site. To use it, you
- install it on a computer that already has the Garmin GPS USB drivers
- connect your Garmin GPS to the computer
- turn on the GPS and wait for your computer to recognize the device
- run the xImage utility
Monday, March 26, 2007
Nevada
An old buddy of mine from my college days (the second time, not the first or third) has seen fit to join the blogging and the caching world. No - not Uncle Mack - he already belongs to both. I'm talking about Nevada Mouse, "the World's Greatest Mouse Adventurer." Yawn.
Sorry, where was I? Oh, right, Nevada. Of course, in typical Nevada fashion he's doing it completely backwards, having decided on his caching name first (well, see below), having created a blog to boast of his exploits, and soon to be signing up for the Geocachers of West Tennessee forums. We'll see if he actually manages to find a cache. Mackheath has promised to take him out soon, I think, and I may drag him out for a little cache maintenance that I have do around town. [ I have a side bet stating that he will become completely disenchanted before he hits 100 finds, but you never know. ]
Nevada has been known by that name for some time now; as you might guess, it has some loose connection to a certain archeologist movie hero, which, coincidently, is his profession, and how we first met as grad students back in the day. Admittedly he's spent a lot more time outdoors than I have since then, including a few exotic locales. Thankfully he's given me authoring privileges on his site so that I can add some, ahem, realistic perspective on his exploits.
Sorry, where was I? Oh, right, Nevada. Of course, in typical Nevada fashion he's doing it completely backwards, having decided on his caching name first (well, see below), having created a blog to boast of his exploits, and soon to be signing up for the Geocachers of West Tennessee forums. We'll see if he actually manages to find a cache. Mackheath has promised to take him out soon, I think, and I may drag him out for a little cache maintenance that I have do around town. [ I have a side bet stating that he will become completely disenchanted before he hits 100 finds, but you never know. ]
Nevada has been known by that name for some time now; as you might guess, it has some loose connection to a certain archeologist movie hero, which, coincidently, is his profession, and how we first met as grad students back in the day. Admittedly he's spent a lot more time outdoors than I have since then, including a few exotic locales. Thankfully he's given me authoring privileges on his site so that I can add some, ahem, realistic perspective on his exploits.
Nothing to see here
Until recently I didn't know there was a picture of an event that I'm famous for - the breaking of a chandelier at a Mexican restaurant in Jackson, TN. Thankfully BigDaddyD grabbed this one, taken shortly after I had uttered what has become one of my taglines - Nothing to see here. The restaurant was very nice about the whole thing, which is good, because I really did give that light fixture a good knock.
Vehicle repair
At a recent CITO event I noticed the tale-tell signs that my vehicle needed some brake work. Today I followed my wife downtown and dropped off the cachemobile at Reed's Auto Safety Service, Inc., at 711 Monroe Ext. A while back they patched my wife's tire for free (courtesy of an intro from a friend); for payment they asked that she remember them if she ever needed additional repairs. I've been a fan of that sort of policy from my AutoZone days. I'll let you know how things go.
Follow up: Good service, reasonable price. Recommended.
Follow up: Good service, reasonable price. Recommended.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Okay, I lied.
I said that would post more. Obviously, I didn't, given that it is now 6 months or so since my last post. In fact, the greatest continuity between my last post and this is that now I'm entering that period of the year when I yearn to shave my beard off. At least this year I won't be reading the 'Jesus' portion of the Passion according to St. Luke; last year I shaved prematurely, it seems, and disappointed the head of the lectors.
Singing today was Petrarch's Ah Jesus. Unfortunately, Joe wasn't in attendance, which meant that the sounds that have been in my left ear for all of the rehearsals was missing and replaced with a different voice. Not a bad voice, either, but, still, different, which tends to throw me off a little. The whole piece was tentative, both temporally and harmonically, made worse by the fact that the piece had odd, minor chords that don't come readily to the ear or voice. I loused up Section IV, though I did make a strong entrance on III. Oh well, we get another try during the Vigil.
I've just done a query on Geocaching.com and see that there are 20 caches within 3.3 miles of my house, including several that I have no good reason not to go for. I need to dig out the scraps of paper that have solutions for several of the puzzle caches - I would be much further along if I didn't keep losing my work. I hope my new GSAK scheme helps that.
Singing today was Petrarch's Ah Jesus. Unfortunately, Joe wasn't in attendance, which meant that the sounds that have been in my left ear for all of the rehearsals was missing and replaced with a different voice. Not a bad voice, either, but, still, different, which tends to throw me off a little. The whole piece was tentative, both temporally and harmonically, made worse by the fact that the piece had odd, minor chords that don't come readily to the ear or voice. I loused up Section IV, though I did make a strong entrance on III. Oh well, we get another try during the Vigil.
I've just done a query on Geocaching.com and see that there are 20 caches within 3.3 miles of my house, including several that I have no good reason not to go for. I need to dig out the scraps of paper that have solutions for several of the puzzle caches - I would be much further along if I didn't keep losing my work. I hope my new GSAK scheme helps that.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
The Beard is back
Three weeks ago I decided to re-grow my beard. This comes as no suprise to those who know me - most of the last mumble mumble years I've had one. Still, shaving has been for a while a rite of Spring, with bearding occuring in the Fall. So, here it is. What I've forgotten is what it's like to be around folks who don't know that. My recent consulting gig(s) have put me in the company of real strangers, and they don't know or understand that history.
Graduate school wasn't quite the same experience, even though there were more strangers present in the environment. Maybe it is because I was less invested in the opinions of many of my peers there - after all, having been through the process before, I am aware of how tenuous the connections with some of the students really are. Still.
Graduate school wasn't quite the same experience, even though there were more strangers present in the environment. Maybe it is because I was less invested in the opinions of many of my peers there - after all, having been through the process before, I am aware of how tenuous the connections with some of the students really are. Still.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Loose Change
Today I put up the Christmas tree. While I was in the attic, I cleaned up a few boxes and what not. That, in turn, led to moving around a few things, like an old dresser that we store up there. And that, gentle readers, led me to open the drawers of the dresser to see if anything was in there. And there was.... *treasure*.
A long time ago I began taking the change out of my pockets and putting it in a container. The first container was a piggy bank, of a sort, with a chain and a lock. Later, I just switched to a cup or a jar. Before Terre and I moved, I separated all of the quarters, nickels, and dimes into plastic bags. Those bags are what I found in the dresser drawer. What to do? Cash them in! I took them to a local Kroger's, which has one of those change counting devices. Fifteen minutes later... and I do mean at least 15 minutes, I had a voucher for $230. In the words of Napoleon, "Sweeeet!".
Nothing suceeds like success, so I went home, dug out my other change boxes, dumped them into another bag and went back. My total take for the day? Around $333.
Granted, I've known plenty of people who collected loose change. Heck, I met one guy who used to save over $1500 dollars a year that way. Still, I was suprised by the amount and delighted with the result.
A long time ago I began taking the change out of my pockets and putting it in a container. The first container was a piggy bank, of a sort, with a chain and a lock. Later, I just switched to a cup or a jar. Before Terre and I moved, I separated all of the quarters, nickels, and dimes into plastic bags. Those bags are what I found in the dresser drawer. What to do? Cash them in! I took them to a local Kroger's, which has one of those change counting devices. Fifteen minutes later... and I do mean at least 15 minutes, I had a voucher for $230. In the words of Napoleon, "Sweeeet!".
Nothing suceeds like success, so I went home, dug out my other change boxes, dumped them into another bag and went back. My total take for the day? Around $333.
Granted, I've known plenty of people who collected loose change. Heck, I met one guy who used to save over $1500 dollars a year that way. Still, I was suprised by the amount and delighted with the result.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
Energy?
I've heard people talk about energy. Specifically, deriving energy from things, places, people I suppose. Emotions. Actions? I don't know what they mean, really, though I speculate, now and then, about it. Energy, to the engineer in me, has something to do with power, potential or expressed. It has do do with transformation, too. I'm not sure if that has anything to do with what others mean.
I know that I've places that have elated me (Santiago) or depressed me (Dachau), and that's a sort of power, or energy, that the place has. I think such places have an immediate effect (awe) and then a lingering effect, which might be some dilution of the experience, or perhaps even something created within us out of the experience, like conflict.
I think that some places have such a power to them. Most of the ones I can think of have a strong cultural meaning to them, and I wonder if they might have the same impact on someone from, say, China, as me. Of course, the places I'm thinking when I say that are more than locations. They are cities, or towns, or villages, and I think it is the humanity of the place that affects me. In particular, it is the art of the place, especially the architecture. Architecture seems to have an immediate ability to force the viewer to compare the space to something known, whether it is the interior of some gothic cathedral or a simple hut in India. Not that there is anything wrong with just accepting the beauty of a place, but when I see such places, I think of their age, the work that caused them to be created, the events that happened here. Perhaps buildings store up the power of events that made them. Or perhaps we analyize and give these places their power in respecting what they represent.
On the other hand, the natural world has its beauty, too. Seeing the Grand Canyon should affect anyone. It simply should, whether that reaction is disbelief, or amazement, or terror. Do we give these places their power? For some reason I am more certain that their power is universal - that anyone, from anywhere and anytime, would react to them.
Do we seek such places for their effect on us? Do we go to them expecting, demanding to be changed? Is the goal of the explorer to convince others to want to be changed? To be the first to be transformed by some new power?
I know that I've places that have elated me (Santiago) or depressed me (Dachau), and that's a sort of power, or energy, that the place has. I think such places have an immediate effect (awe) and then a lingering effect, which might be some dilution of the experience, or perhaps even something created within us out of the experience, like conflict.
I think that some places have such a power to them. Most of the ones I can think of have a strong cultural meaning to them, and I wonder if they might have the same impact on someone from, say, China, as me. Of course, the places I'm thinking when I say that are more than locations. They are cities, or towns, or villages, and I think it is the humanity of the place that affects me. In particular, it is the art of the place, especially the architecture. Architecture seems to have an immediate ability to force the viewer to compare the space to something known, whether it is the interior of some gothic cathedral or a simple hut in India. Not that there is anything wrong with just accepting the beauty of a place, but when I see such places, I think of their age, the work that caused them to be created, the events that happened here. Perhaps buildings store up the power of events that made them. Or perhaps we analyize and give these places their power in respecting what they represent.
On the other hand, the natural world has its beauty, too. Seeing the Grand Canyon should affect anyone. It simply should, whether that reaction is disbelief, or amazement, or terror. Do we give these places their power? For some reason I am more certain that their power is universal - that anyone, from anywhere and anytime, would react to them.
Do we seek such places for their effect on us? Do we go to them expecting, demanding to be changed? Is the goal of the explorer to convince others to want to be changed? To be the first to be transformed by some new power?
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
"..for thereby some have entertained angels unawares."
Hebrews 13:2 is an interesting verse, part of which I've quoted in the title. The verse says, "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." I don't know much about angels. I don't really understand the special status accorded them. I don't understand their power or ability, which is a very human way of looking at things, I suppose, and not at all in keeping with thoughts of the divine, or at least holy. Angels have been called messengers, or vice-versa. We have angels of mercy and angelic praise, as a hymn or two reminds us.
Yet, in spite of my disbelief in angels, or perhaps because of it, I've had two occasions where I felt so strongly that I was interacting with angels that it spooked me. The first time was over ten years ago. The second was recent - the morning of Christmas Eve, 2004.
Many years ago - such that I can't recall when, really, but, generally, let's say 12 years ago or so, I took a trip down to Atlanta from Memphis. I went down there to visit a couple of friends and to participate in the closing service of a weekend retreat. My visit was a surprise, which meant that I couldn't stay at the retreat center the night before. Instead, I sought a hotel room nearby. That was a mistake. You see, Atlanta was busy that weekend. There was a baseball game being played in town. There was a basketball exhibition game being played. And there was a gathering of students from nearly every black college and university in the country for their joint spring break. Atlanta was crowded. There were no rooms nearby.
So, I kept driving East, until I was well past my destination, well into unfamiliar territory, and finally somewhere near hotels/motels with rooms to let. I stopped, booked a room, ate dinner, and went to sleep.
In the morning, I woke early and decided to take a look around as I had several hours to kill. Folks who know me know that I don't eat breakfast. Folks who have traveled with me know that I do. That's one of my personal contradictions: I eat breakfast on the rode, but not at home. Breakfast, in this case, meant WaffleHouse, and unavoidable feature of practically every interstate interchange in Georgia. So, I found one, went in, and waited for a spot to sit down. Soon, a barstool became available, and I sat down.
Now, folks who know me also know that I'm generally not one for talking to strangers. Heck, I'm not much for talking, usually, though the right crowd sometimes can produce odd results. But, it so happened that the stool next to mine opened up shortly after I sat down, and a middle-aged black man sat down next to me, and we mumbled our respective "mornin'" to each other. He had a local paper, and so I went out on a limb and asked him if he know the reason for the crowds I'd run into, etc. He knew alright - some of his wife's college friends were in town because of it, and he'd had his fill of reunions and too many women in his house, and had decided to go out and catch breakfast and a little peace and quiet. We laughed about that and I commiserated (I have 3 sisters myself) and then shifted to the weather, the local sports, and events of the day. He finished breakfast before I did, and he paid, and then he got up to leave. That's when he turned around, looked at me squarely in the eye, and said, "You be careful out there today."
That was an odd remark, I thought, but well-intentioned, and so I thanked him, and we said our goodbyes. He left, and shortly after I left. I got in my car and decided to take a little drive around Atlanta.
I still can't tell you exactly where I went that day. I drove all over - and I took a few u-turns, getting off the interstate and getting back on, trying to stay in the general quadrant of my ultimate destination. At some point, though, I got lost, or at least out of sight of the signs that I wanted to see. [A useful working definition of lost, at least for me.] I took a few turns, and then I was in a very different place. Graffiti became prominent. Fences. Boards on windows, bars on doors. Gang symbols, sprayed on corners, cars, streets. The general signs of urban decay. Suddenly, I was a little nervous, and I got the distinct impression I was in an area of town that, in the wrong circumstances, could be dangerous.
I should explain how I traveled back then. I had a fairly small car with bucket seats up front. I would slide the passenger seat back as far as possible, which allowed a good-sized cooler to be placed in the floorboard. I would stock up on ice, cokes, sandwiches, cheese, apples - snacks for the road. It was very handy.
I should also explain that my little car had a few miles on it, and that some of those miles had been hard ones. I had driven from Memphis to Milwaukee in that little car, at a pretty good clip. I had driven from Memphis to Atlanta in a little under 5 hours. My car rebelled at such treatment in subtle ways; sometimes, for instance, the electric windows would stop working.
Here I was, then, lost in Atlanta, in a rough neighborhood by the looks of it.
I looked up and saw a guy walking down the sidewalk. In a few moments he would walk in front of my car. He was a young black man in his 20's. He looked tough. He had the right number of tattoo's to fulfil a gangster stereotype. And he was looking at my car. So, I did the what I thought I should do: I tried to roll my window up. Remember how I said my car misbehaved on occassion. That's what they call foreshadowing, because that's exactly what happened. My window refused to budge. My fingers were glued to the controls, and my eyes were glued to the fellow who was, by now, walking in front of my car, then a little to the left, a little more, almost to the corner, and then he stopped. And I got very nervous and to what this fellow was up to. He stopped, and then he turned around, looked at me, and started walking back. Over to my window. Next to my car. And then he leaned down, put his arm on the window, and said, "Hey man, you got a pepsi in that cooler?"
i've always been of the coke congregation, so I told him no. Then I told him I had a coke, and he asked for one, and I gave it to him. He stood up, wiped his brow, popped his coke top, took a sip, and leaned back down. He looked at me and said, "Say, what's a white boy like you doing here?" I waited a second, and then he continued, "You need to get out of here. You need to drive straight two blocks. Then you need to turn right. Then you need to keep driving."
I said, "Okay" and I waited for the light to change (again) and then I took off.
Perhaps you're wondering what this has to do with angels. Or, maybe you've jumped ahead and you're asking yourself, "Who is the angel?" Is it the first man who warns me, or is it the guy who helped me, or is it both? I don't know. I like to think both. I like to think the first was a messenger. Did my offer of a cold drink on a hot Atlanta day transform someone into an angel? That's silly, but be not forgetful to entertain strangers, even if they look like young black gangsters. In the bible, angels have men's names - Michael, Gabriel.... but we're not supposed to believe they are ordinary men. When I close my eyes, my angels have black faces. So be it. That was my first visitation. Real angels? Do you care?
Christmas Eve began early for me. About 4AM, I heard a familiar winter sound - the sound of wheels spinning on slick ice. My hearing is good, anyway, but there is something about the resonance of that sound that penetrates my skull. This was a persistent sound, or at least the sound of a persistent driver. After I little while, I was good and awake and I figured I might as well go out and see what was happening. That, thankfully, didn't take long: a young black soldier, on leave and back in Memphis, had swapped the ends of his car across the street from my neighbor's house, and had slid off into a small ditch. As I approached him, he was giving the accelerator everything he could, wheels spinning furiously, but to no avail.
I walked over and he rolled down his window, and I leaned in and said, "Son, you're pretty good and stuck." He laughed, and agreed. I asked the usual questions, "Have you driven on ice? What gear is your car in? Front-wheel drive?" and quickly figured out that he really didn't know what to do, didn't really want to leave his car (despite my offer to drive him to his destination) and that he really believed he might get his car lose. So, we rocked it back and forth for a while and other tricks all designed to free his trapped vehicle. Nothing doing.
After a while, I walked back over to my house, got my flat-bladed shovel, came back over, and started digging away some of the ice. I don't think I'll ever forget the nice, one-inch thick sheets that I split that day. Great big sections, long as your arm. Even after digging enough traction for one wheel, he still had another buried over halfway in mud. He spun his wheels for maybe a half hour more.
I had another bright idea, so I went back to the house, had my wife open the garage, and was going to grab some firewood to put under his muddy tire. That's when I heard voices. I looked back up the road and there was another guy standing in the middle of the street, talking to the young soldier. I decided to walk back down.
The new fellow had a thin jacket on and was talking loud enough to wake the neighbors, (or so I hoped, secretly). He looked at the car and laughed. He walked around it and shook his head. He told me none of the coke trucks had gone out the day before, the streets where so bad, and that this morning was even worse, slick as glass, and that he didn't see how anybody was getting around. We agreed that even a wrecker would have trouble on the perfect ice skating rink near the corner, and that the car was very stuck, and he said, "You know, firewood might do the trick", I walked back up to my house, and my wife opened the garage, and I got a couple of pieces wood to prop under the car wheels. As I was walking back to the street, though, I heard a different sound, and so I dropped the wood, walked further, and saw the car in the middle of the street, pointing the right direction. I walked on, and they explained that they had just, "rocked her free" and that he was ready to drive home. I told the solder to put his car in low and to "take it light on the accelerator" and wished him well. The soldier asked for my name, thanked me, wished me a Merry Christmas, and slowly took off down the street. The other fellow wished me a good night and started walking off as well. I turned around and started walking back to my house, cold, tired, but happy at the prospect of a little quiet. I was even happy that someone else had decided to stop by and help.
About halfway to my house, I stopped and thought, for the first time: what in the world is somebody doing, walking the streets at 5Am on a day like today? So, I ran/waddled back to the corner, and took a look around.... and saw nothing. Not a person in sight as far as the eye could see. I even said outloud, "Where did you go?"
Was the young man who stopped by an angel? To the driver he should have been, but maybe he didn't notice. I like to think he was, even if he was only pretending. Maybe the driver was the one entertaining, and he got an angel and me for free. Or maybe the driver was the angel, and two souls, awakened early, got a reminder of the giving nature of Christmas. I don't know. I wish both explanations could be true.
I do know that they say good things happen in threes. I'm hoping that it doesn't take 10 more years for me to be convinced.
Yet, in spite of my disbelief in angels, or perhaps because of it, I've had two occasions where I felt so strongly that I was interacting with angels that it spooked me. The first time was over ten years ago. The second was recent - the morning of Christmas Eve, 2004.
Many years ago - such that I can't recall when, really, but, generally, let's say 12 years ago or so, I took a trip down to Atlanta from Memphis. I went down there to visit a couple of friends and to participate in the closing service of a weekend retreat. My visit was a surprise, which meant that I couldn't stay at the retreat center the night before. Instead, I sought a hotel room nearby. That was a mistake. You see, Atlanta was busy that weekend. There was a baseball game being played in town. There was a basketball exhibition game being played. And there was a gathering of students from nearly every black college and university in the country for their joint spring break. Atlanta was crowded. There were no rooms nearby.
So, I kept driving East, until I was well past my destination, well into unfamiliar territory, and finally somewhere near hotels/motels with rooms to let. I stopped, booked a room, ate dinner, and went to sleep.
In the morning, I woke early and decided to take a look around as I had several hours to kill. Folks who know me know that I don't eat breakfast. Folks who have traveled with me know that I do. That's one of my personal contradictions: I eat breakfast on the rode, but not at home. Breakfast, in this case, meant WaffleHouse, and unavoidable feature of practically every interstate interchange in Georgia. So, I found one, went in, and waited for a spot to sit down. Soon, a barstool became available, and I sat down.
Now, folks who know me also know that I'm generally not one for talking to strangers. Heck, I'm not much for talking, usually, though the right crowd sometimes can produce odd results. But, it so happened that the stool next to mine opened up shortly after I sat down, and a middle-aged black man sat down next to me, and we mumbled our respective "mornin'" to each other. He had a local paper, and so I went out on a limb and asked him if he know the reason for the crowds I'd run into, etc. He knew alright - some of his wife's college friends were in town because of it, and he'd had his fill of reunions and too many women in his house, and had decided to go out and catch breakfast and a little peace and quiet. We laughed about that and I commiserated (I have 3 sisters myself) and then shifted to the weather, the local sports, and events of the day. He finished breakfast before I did, and he paid, and then he got up to leave. That's when he turned around, looked at me squarely in the eye, and said, "You be careful out there today."
That was an odd remark, I thought, but well-intentioned, and so I thanked him, and we said our goodbyes. He left, and shortly after I left. I got in my car and decided to take a little drive around Atlanta.
I still can't tell you exactly where I went that day. I drove all over - and I took a few u-turns, getting off the interstate and getting back on, trying to stay in the general quadrant of my ultimate destination. At some point, though, I got lost, or at least out of sight of the signs that I wanted to see. [A useful working definition of lost, at least for me.] I took a few turns, and then I was in a very different place. Graffiti became prominent. Fences. Boards on windows, bars on doors. Gang symbols, sprayed on corners, cars, streets. The general signs of urban decay. Suddenly, I was a little nervous, and I got the distinct impression I was in an area of town that, in the wrong circumstances, could be dangerous.
I should explain how I traveled back then. I had a fairly small car with bucket seats up front. I would slide the passenger seat back as far as possible, which allowed a good-sized cooler to be placed in the floorboard. I would stock up on ice, cokes, sandwiches, cheese, apples - snacks for the road. It was very handy.
I should also explain that my little car had a few miles on it, and that some of those miles had been hard ones. I had driven from Memphis to Milwaukee in that little car, at a pretty good clip. I had driven from Memphis to Atlanta in a little under 5 hours. My car rebelled at such treatment in subtle ways; sometimes, for instance, the electric windows would stop working.
Here I was, then, lost in Atlanta, in a rough neighborhood by the looks of it.
I looked up and saw a guy walking down the sidewalk. In a few moments he would walk in front of my car. He was a young black man in his 20's. He looked tough. He had the right number of tattoo's to fulfil a gangster stereotype. And he was looking at my car. So, I did the what I thought I should do: I tried to roll my window up. Remember how I said my car misbehaved on occassion. That's what they call foreshadowing, because that's exactly what happened. My window refused to budge. My fingers were glued to the controls, and my eyes were glued to the fellow who was, by now, walking in front of my car, then a little to the left, a little more, almost to the corner, and then he stopped. And I got very nervous and to what this fellow was up to. He stopped, and then he turned around, looked at me, and started walking back. Over to my window. Next to my car. And then he leaned down, put his arm on the window, and said, "Hey man, you got a pepsi in that cooler?"
i've always been of the coke congregation, so I told him no. Then I told him I had a coke, and he asked for one, and I gave it to him. He stood up, wiped his brow, popped his coke top, took a sip, and leaned back down. He looked at me and said, "Say, what's a white boy like you doing here?" I waited a second, and then he continued, "You need to get out of here. You need to drive straight two blocks. Then you need to turn right. Then you need to keep driving."
I said, "Okay" and I waited for the light to change (again) and then I took off.
Perhaps you're wondering what this has to do with angels. Or, maybe you've jumped ahead and you're asking yourself, "Who is the angel?" Is it the first man who warns me, or is it the guy who helped me, or is it both? I don't know. I like to think both. I like to think the first was a messenger. Did my offer of a cold drink on a hot Atlanta day transform someone into an angel? That's silly, but be not forgetful to entertain strangers, even if they look like young black gangsters. In the bible, angels have men's names - Michael, Gabriel.... but we're not supposed to believe they are ordinary men. When I close my eyes, my angels have black faces. So be it. That was my first visitation. Real angels? Do you care?
Christmas Eve began early for me. About 4AM, I heard a familiar winter sound - the sound of wheels spinning on slick ice. My hearing is good, anyway, but there is something about the resonance of that sound that penetrates my skull. This was a persistent sound, or at least the sound of a persistent driver. After I little while, I was good and awake and I figured I might as well go out and see what was happening. That, thankfully, didn't take long: a young black soldier, on leave and back in Memphis, had swapped the ends of his car across the street from my neighbor's house, and had slid off into a small ditch. As I approached him, he was giving the accelerator everything he could, wheels spinning furiously, but to no avail.
I walked over and he rolled down his window, and I leaned in and said, "Son, you're pretty good and stuck." He laughed, and agreed. I asked the usual questions, "Have you driven on ice? What gear is your car in? Front-wheel drive?" and quickly figured out that he really didn't know what to do, didn't really want to leave his car (despite my offer to drive him to his destination) and that he really believed he might get his car lose. So, we rocked it back and forth for a while and other tricks all designed to free his trapped vehicle. Nothing doing.
After a while, I walked back over to my house, got my flat-bladed shovel, came back over, and started digging away some of the ice. I don't think I'll ever forget the nice, one-inch thick sheets that I split that day. Great big sections, long as your arm. Even after digging enough traction for one wheel, he still had another buried over halfway in mud. He spun his wheels for maybe a half hour more.
I had another bright idea, so I went back to the house, had my wife open the garage, and was going to grab some firewood to put under his muddy tire. That's when I heard voices. I looked back up the road and there was another guy standing in the middle of the street, talking to the young soldier. I decided to walk back down.
The new fellow had a thin jacket on and was talking loud enough to wake the neighbors, (or so I hoped, secretly). He looked at the car and laughed. He walked around it and shook his head. He told me none of the coke trucks had gone out the day before, the streets where so bad, and that this morning was even worse, slick as glass, and that he didn't see how anybody was getting around. We agreed that even a wrecker would have trouble on the perfect ice skating rink near the corner, and that the car was very stuck, and he said, "You know, firewood might do the trick", I walked back up to my house, and my wife opened the garage, and I got a couple of pieces wood to prop under the car wheels. As I was walking back to the street, though, I heard a different sound, and so I dropped the wood, walked further, and saw the car in the middle of the street, pointing the right direction. I walked on, and they explained that they had just, "rocked her free" and that he was ready to drive home. I told the solder to put his car in low and to "take it light on the accelerator" and wished him well. The soldier asked for my name, thanked me, wished me a Merry Christmas, and slowly took off down the street. The other fellow wished me a good night and started walking off as well. I turned around and started walking back to my house, cold, tired, but happy at the prospect of a little quiet. I was even happy that someone else had decided to stop by and help.
About halfway to my house, I stopped and thought, for the first time: what in the world is somebody doing, walking the streets at 5Am on a day like today? So, I ran/waddled back to the corner, and took a look around.... and saw nothing. Not a person in sight as far as the eye could see. I even said outloud, "Where did you go?"
Was the young man who stopped by an angel? To the driver he should have been, but maybe he didn't notice. I like to think he was, even if he was only pretending. Maybe the driver was the one entertaining, and he got an angel and me for free. Or maybe the driver was the angel, and two souls, awakened early, got a reminder of the giving nature of Christmas. I don't know. I wish both explanations could be true.
I do know that they say good things happen in threes. I'm hoping that it doesn't take 10 more years for me to be convinced.
Saturday, May 22, 2004
Hello from Terre
Hello everyone. Thanks for all the thoughts and prayers being sent our way. Things are going well, and since Jim has hit most of the high points, I will only add a few thoughts.
We have both eaten pulpo, which is octopus in red vine. Don´t freak out mom. Jim liked it very much. My impression . . . it does NOT taste like chicken. The breads are fabulous, and French fries fried in olive oil accompany almost every meal.
We have seen some incredible countryside, we have seen beautiful birds that we have never seen before. Until a couple of days ago, there were storks (who have huge nests on rooftops) everywhere. The land we are in now, Galicia, looks like the shire in Lord of the Rings. It is truly breathtaking.
Everyone hug your washer and dryer daily and tell them how much you love them.
I love you all and miss you. We are well.
See you soon.
Terre
We have both eaten pulpo, which is octopus in red vine. Don´t freak out mom. Jim liked it very much. My impression . . . it does NOT taste like chicken. The breads are fabulous, and French fries fried in olive oil accompany almost every meal.
We have seen some incredible countryside, we have seen beautiful birds that we have never seen before. Until a couple of days ago, there were storks (who have huge nests on rooftops) everywhere. The land we are in now, Galicia, looks like the shire in Lord of the Rings. It is truly breathtaking.
Everyone hug your washer and dryer daily and tell them how much you love them.
I love you all and miss you. We are well.
See you soon.
Terre
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