My Adult Children

My son and his girlfriend are coming to see us this weekend. They both have Monday off, so they will make the nine hour drive from Nashville to spend just a couple of days with us...for no apparent reason. It's not a holiday. They don't need money. Neither of them are sick. They just said that they wanted to spend a weekend with us for the pure heck of it! How cool is that?

The weather appears to be cooperating, since a road trip planned for the month of February is normally fraught with peril. Three days in the 70's will do quite nicely. Sarah, being sheltered from the great refinements of the Old Dominion as a child has only made one other visit here, a whirlwind Thanksgiving trip this past November, so is thrilled to get the chance to actually spend some time doing touristy things. We plan on taking them for a tour of Monticello, then lunch at Michie Tavern. If they behave themselves, and time permitting, we may make a quick drive to Williamsburg.

Meanwhile, Kaitlin and Jon have asked us when we are planning on coming down to Columbia next. It's been a few months since our last visit. Apparently, Jackson misses Lucy.

It's a wonderful thing to have grown, adult children, but even more wonderful when they actually want to spend time with you. This is how Pam and I organize our schedule now. . .around trips to and from Nashville and Columbia, and we are happy to do it. However, would it kill either one of them to move back to Virginia? In Nashville, a decent two bedroom apartment costs upwards of $1700 a stinking month for goodness sakes! Sure they don't have a State income tax, but when you're paying that much to put a roof over your head, our taxes start sounding like a bargain. And what about Jon? You trying to tell me that there aren't an abundance of National Parks in Virginia?? Instead of toiling away in a swamp which features something called a Mosquito-meter, he could be giving guided tours in the beautiful Shanendoah, or the sacred ground at Chancellorsville. Plus, such a move would bring them closer to happy and willing dog-sitters, not to mention future baby sitters...

But, enough with the whining. I should be grateful that they are all doing so well where they are and that they still want to come home every chance they get.

Book of Mormon...a review

Last night, Pam and I attended a Broadway show written by the same crew that gives us South Park. So, when you read what follows, it is entirely fair for you to make the observation, "So, what did you expect, Rogers and Hammerstein??" 

Before launching into my review of Book of Mormon, I should say that I'm the sort of guy who gives comedians and satirists a wide berth in the pursuit of their craft. After all, I'm a huge fan of Mel Brooks, and as such am accustomed to foul language, heeping portions of crudeness, sexual innuendo and irreverent humor. And further more, as a Christian, I am used to Hollywood types vilifying my faith. So, why did I find Book of Mormon so disturbing? That's another fair question.

First of all, I should say that I did enjoy parts of the show. In places, the writing was clever and witty. The music was good and the singing was nice too. Some of the dance numbers were beautifully done. The plot centers around a couple of fresh from the missionary training center 19 year old elders who have just been given their two year mission assignment...to Uganda. Of course, they are ill-prepared for such an undertaking, since the star elder wanted Orlando instead! We are treated to a funny summary of Mormon theology, and introduced to the obligatory latent gay elder all in the first ten minutes. So far, so good. Then our heros land in their Ugandan village, and it's time for the writers to shock us with a rousing number which features the repeated phrase, "F**K you, God!!", complete with the locals giving the Almighty the finger.

Ok, I believe it safe to say that this is essentially the textbook definition of blasphemy, so as a Christian, it placed me in an uncomfortable position. All in good fun, I'm sure, but several thoughts began swimming around in my head. One of them was, ummm, why am I here? But then I scolded myself, "lighten up dude...it's Hollywood."

From there it only got worse. The sacrament of Baptism was sent up as a sex act, to very nervous laughter from the crowd. By the time the natives put on their summary of Mormon theology, complete with giant Phallic symbols and simulated sex acts, all put to a snappy tune, it had gotten sort of ridiculous.

Along the way, my Lord and Savior made a couple appearances, and although he was dressed in a super cool electric robe, whenever he opened his mouth to speak, he did so with a sissified lisp. Injury? Meet insult. I remember thinking how I will probably never live to see the day when the Prophet Muhammad gets this sort of blasphemous treatment. Hollywood types do this to Christians because they know that the most grief they will catch is a tepid review from some insignificant blogger like me, while some angered Muslims might respond with a wellplaced suicide bomb.

So, back to the excellent question of Why was I there? Well, Pam got a Groupon with a sweet discount, for one thing. Secondly, we love shows! It's Valentines Day week. We thought it would be different...fun. My son had seen it and thought  it was hilarious and well done, although he warned me that it was highly offensive in places. I saw pictures of friends on Facebook who had just seen it and had proclaimed it funny but crude etc...

Here's the thing. If I was forced to use just one word to describe this show it would be...vulgar. Since that word isn't used much anymore, let me offer the Webster definition..."making explicit and offensive references to sex or bodily functions; coarse and rude; characteristic of the masses." While I'm at it, perhaps a quick refresher on the word blasphemy is in order..."the act or offense of speaking sacrilegiously about God or sacred things; profane talk."

Christianity is a religion that doesn't require a lot from its practitioners, with all that grace and forgiveness business. But, I'm old fashioned enough to believe that there are some things I shouldn't do. I probably shouldn't be a drug dealer for example, probably shouldn't make my living running guns or selling women into the sex trade, or become a Yankees fan. And maybe, just maybe, I probably shouldn't pay money to see shows like Book of Mormon. As I sat there in my cramped seat, with six other human beings within two feet of my face, I couldn't help think about the many missionaries I know and love. I thought about the sacrifices they all made to attempt to enrich the lives of people in Africa, Asia, and South America. They didn't just go there to notch converts on their belt, but to help bring clean drinking water to communities who had none, to provide medical care to people hundreds of miles from a doctor. They worked for decades in brutal conditions without complaint because of a calling to serve the least of these. To see their life's work denigrated for cheap laughs was a bit painful. But so was the essential message of Book of Mormon which was, religion is merely a collection of metaphors that offers nothing of value to hurting people, and what's wrong with making stuff up as long as it makes people feel good about themselves?

So, my opinion of Book of Mormon is this...if you are not a person of faith, you will probably enjoy it. If you are, I'm not sure how it is possible that you could.

Scumbag of the Day

                                                                            

Our world is populated with lots of terrible people. Examples of human debris are everywhere you look and span across all walks of life, races, genders and ethnicity. There are murderers, thieves, rapists and human traffickers. Although, I could continue adding to this list of horribles for the rest of the day, I could never exceed the list given to us by the great Headly Lamarr from Blazing Saddles:

"I want rustlers, cut-throats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperadoes, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, Indian agents, Mexican bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswogglers, horse thieves, bull dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass-kickers, shit-kickers....and Methodists."

"Methodists!!"...shudder.

But yesterday I was introduced by my son, Patrick, to a new breed of scumbag...Puppy thieves. The unspeakably adorable fur ball in the photograph above was apparently stolen from his/her owner down in Nashville, ostensibly for resale on the internet via E-Bay.

Ok, let that sink in for a minute.

Some degenerate cretin sees this puppy frolicking in the yard with some kid and decides that he could rip the pup away from the helpless kid and sell it on E-Bay for $1000. The perfect crime. Upon hearing about this new low in human depravity, my son flew into a murderous rage and immediately posted the picture on Facebook and mobilizing dog-lovers all over Nashville to track down this real world Cruella DeVille. If he succeeds, he will have accomplished something truly great...administering justice to a dirtbag.

Listen, I'm fully aware that there are far more terrible and even heinous things going on all over the world to human beings. I'm also not trying to make the moral equivalence argument here that dogs are as valuable in the sight of God than are people. However, there is something uniquely disturbing about the mistreatment of dogs, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because they are so dependent on us for their survival. Maybe it's because they love us unconditionally, and ask so little in return. But when I see cruelty and malice at work aimed at them, it sends me into a righteous fury. Apparently, I have passed down this rage to my children. I make no apologies for it. I hope the social media army down in Nashville track this thug down and then I hope he feels the full force of the law when his punishment is meted out. Here's a sentencing suggestion...How about we put a collar around his neck, tie it around a pole on a bare patch of dirt somewhere and let him spend the rest of the winter out there covered in tics and fleas?

Grrrrrrr!

My Tongue is Taking a Beating!!

I'm ten days into my self-imposed No Politics February. I would be lying if I said it's been easy. Not only have I not written about politics, I have also refrained from commenting on anyone else's politically charged posts. Let's just say that I've bitten my tongue so many times, it needs stitches. But, something remarkable has started to happen. Gradually, day by day, I'm starting to feel better.

Do I miss the chance to vent my spleen over some idiotic story coming out of the White House? Well, yes, I do. Primarily because it's a lot of fun. Do I miss the chance to excoriate the imbeciles that populate the left when they do what they do? Of course. Primarily because it feels so good. But, every time I just let it go, I realize that the world can get along just fine without my opinion. I'm learning that it is quite freeing to lay down the burden of always feeling the need to signal my virtue 24 hours a day." I must make sure people know that I disagree with this!!" Well, actually no, I don't.

Here's another thing. Knowing that I am prohibited from mouthing off about stuff for awhile has allowed me the chance to dig deeper into stories, read more about the issue. Sometimes this has resulted in additional confirmation of my own views, but other times it has shed light on different perspectives that I hadn't considered...and, dare I say, changed my mind? See, that's something that has become crystal clear to me over the last few weeks. For all of our opinions and rants on Facebook, nobody, and I mean nobody is changing anybody's mind. All we are doing is further entrenching ourselves in the comfort of our own biases. We are walling ourselves off into ideological tribes. In our rush to be right or even witty, we have lost the art of persuasion because we have gotten intellectually lazy. Instead of researching a complicated political topic by reading a variety of opinions before formulating our own, we fall back on our gut instincts and personal history, then  launch broadsides at each other in ignorance. Naturally, I feel this especially true of my ideological opponents, but in all honesty, I also stand guilty as charged. Nobody likes being lectured. Few people  respond well to condescension. There's a fine line between talking to someone and talking at them, or worse still, talking past them.

So, this punditry pause has been mostly a positive experience. But, my poor tongue is taking a beating here, people!

Use People, Love Things, and Worship Yourself?

Occasionally I feel the need to indulge my inner nerd. That's when I go over to the American Enterprise Institute's website and check in to see what Arthur Brooks has to say. He's one of those guys who Richard Nixon would have described as a "pointy-headed intellectual." However, instead of  writing scathing denunciations of the West all day, he actually is a stout defender of free markets and free minds. Yesterday he wrote a rather long and ponderous piece entitled, Confessions of a Catholic Convert to Capitalism. In it, he asked several tough questions about his preferred economic system, and attempted answers. I will not go into the details of the thing here, but I want to tell you about a line which jumped off the page at me. In a discussion of the moral and spiritual failings of capitalism he said this...

" I have lain awake worrying about the coarsening materialism of our society and popular culture. Turn on the television, go to the movies, glance at practically any advertisement, and you will learn that the formula for a happy life is simple: use people, love things, and worship yourself."

Use people, love things, worship yourself...

He then asks the rhetorical question: Is Capitalism to blame? Because, although capitalism and free markets have created more wealth and indeed lifted more people out of grinding poverty than any system ever conceived by the mind of man, facts that are not in dispute, has it reduced us to merely agents of commerce, robotic money making and money chasing machines? His answer put forth in the essay is essentially, "No." capitalism, as an economic system is amoral, and is only as good and righteous as the people participating in it. I agree. But, I would add something else. Capitalism, by itself, is insufficient for the happiness and betterment of mankind. It does tend to reduce us to material beings. To get ahead requires a certain ruthlessness of character at times. Without a moral component, economic well being as a goal does indeed encourage and reward...using people, loving things, and worshiping ourselves.

To advance to a place where our life goals are to love people, use things, and worship God is a far more difficult challenge, and more vital for the happiness and betterment of mankind. For me, this is where faith steps in to the picture, since it reorients my mind from it's default position of self-interest to the interests of others, the life of Christ being a case study in learning to love others,  with his haunting challenge, " What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his own soul?"

So, yes. . .I am a capitalist and thankful for its blessings. But I am also humble enough to understand it's limitations.

My Day On The Links

After a long morning which involved my assistant redoing a pile of paperwork which I had screwed up, I grabbed a quick lunch then headed to Sycamore Creek for a round of golf. My goal was three fold, to enjoy a rare 70 degree February day by spending it outside, to walk 18 holes while carrying my clubs, and not to stink up the place by shooting 100.

I was paired up with a 67 year old, newly retired man named Ken. He had spent 40 years teaching middle schoolers in Powhatan county. I felt like I should have been carrying his clubs too! 40 years teaching middle schoolers? Are you Freaking kidding me?? We enjoyed lively conversation over the next four hours and very much enjoyed each other's company, although I must say, the man was certainly no fan of Democrats. Whenever he would offer a treatise on how Democrats were responsible for everything from the Trilateral Commission to slow lines at the grocery store, I would change the subject..."So, how 'bout those Patriots?"

I accomplished goal number one with ease. I hadn't been outside for four hours in probably three months and I was feeling the effects. The worst part about winter for me has always been having to spend so much time indoors. It was a glorious day. I actually wore short sleeves, and even got a bit of a tan.

I accomplished goal number two...barely. I can't remember the last time I have walked 18 holes and carried my clubs. I've used a pull cart many times, but carrying one's own clubs is usually reserved for teenage boys and caddies. But, I was determined. I turned on the gps device on my cell phone to track how far of a walk I was about to take, then silenced it and zipped it up in my bag. The first nine holes were surprisingly easy. I congratulated myself on being in such fine physical shape. Then the back nine arrived and promptly added fifty pounds to the weight of my bag. I began to feel the burn in my thighs and calves. By hole number 14, my feet began to ache. Ken, who was riding alone in his cart sensed that I was slowing down and began constantly asking if I needed a lift. I refused his kind offers each time out of pure stubbornness and hubris. When I walked off the 18th green everything I had was stiff and sore and I was worn out, but I made it, a four hour, 4.28 mile march.

Goal number three was the most surprising. As is my custom, I didn't hit any balls to warm up, just walked out to the first tee and let it rip. I had determined that I would take no mulligans, and hit each ball where it lay, despite the somewhat soggy, winter conditions. I mean, why not, right? I'm not totally sure but I think the last time I had played was in Maine back in July of last year. So, to my considerable delight, I hit the ball great, only lost one ball all day, and shot a very respectable 85. This despite the fact that I continued my 30 year run of being the worst putter in all of Christendom. Trying to explain just how bad a putter I am isn't easy. It's an acquired incompetence. Imagine someone trying to putt while intoxicated and suffering an epileptic seizure. Or maybe, think of trying to putt with a push broom while blindfolded.

So, this morning my shoulders feel like I've spent a week carrying Lena Dunham around in a backpack. But the good news is...I lost three pounds!!

Beware the Mild Winter Head Fake

So far, this has been the type of winter that makes me nervous. Except for that one snowstorm a month ago, we have had an easy time of it. Today it's supposed to reach the 70's. By and large, we've enjoyed 50's over 30's all winter. So, I'm nervous that we're all being tricked into thinking that winter is done. Mother Nature is giving us a huge head fake, and we're all going for it. Just about the time we all are rummaging through our closets looking for the short sleeve shirts, we're going to get hammered by some 18 inch snowstorm and a week of single digit temperatures! I can feel it.

Nevertheless, this afternoon will be 70 degrees and sunny, and I have no appointments on the calendar, the first such day of the year. I'm feeling the call of the little white ball. It's been probably six or seven months since last I played. Getting outside in 70 degree weather and walking around for four hours sounds fabulous to me at the moment.

Speaking of nice weather. . .I will be attending a business meeting the third week of March down in Florida. It's two days of boring business meetings, the kind of trip I have made a habit of missing whenever possible. But this year, there are actually important things that will be discussed, things I need to hear, so I'm going. I thought that I would take Pam with me and maybe stay a couple extra days in the sun at a very nice resort hotel called Coconut Point, near Fort Myers.

https://coconutpoint.regency.hyatt.com/en/hotel/home.html

Then yesterday I made the happy discovery that the Boston Redsox spring training facility is only 20 miles from the hotel, and as fate would have it, they have a game scheduled against the Pittsburgh Pirates on Thursday the 24th!! This is what is known as a divine appointment. A mere ten days before my 59th birthday, I'm finally going to attend my first spring training baseball game! I'm going to eat an overpriced hotdog, drink a couple of overpriced beers and bore Pam to death with baseball talk for an afternoon in the warm Florida sun. This fortuitous turn of events has made me positively giddy with anticipation...which brings me back to this head fake business. If we get some freak late winter Nor'easter the third week of March which foils my travel plans, I'm going to be one angry, bitter man. It might even force me into the streets to join "the resistance."

Eh...probably not.