THOUGHTS I HAD TODAY BUT DIDN'T SHARE WITH ANYONE (until now)

1. I think the name "blue tooth" is gross.

2. I like eating at McDonalds but I'm embarassed to admit it. I'm ashamed of my forbidden love for McDonalds.

3. I wonder if documenting my cast off thoughts on my blog comes off as a tad too narcissistic.

Those who gossip never doubt
That they're being talked about.

I spy with my eye looking up
A spark in the dark rising up
From a light in the night sending up
More sparks in the sky
On a breeze through the trees
That fade and then die
Swallowed up.

MOVE OVER CHARLIE SHEEN

This morning, as I listened to my three-and-a-half year old, Jack, playing with an odd assortment of toys on the bricks in front of our fireplace it occurred to me that perhaps you could take his utterances, which are odd at times, sheenesque even, distill them down and present them in the form of poetry. So I grabbed a pen and some paper and would occasionally cherry-pick some of his choicest comments out of the air. So, allow me to present to you for the first time the poet genius, Jack Tate. (To create the mood you might want to dim the lights, get some coffee and play some soft jazz in the background as you read. Also, it's best read aloud.)

The sky is hungry.
So is the trees.
Wolves drink fish.
Actually red fish.
I'm a hungry wolf.
Him gonna fly.
Him gonna fly to you.
'Cause Him don't
Need a car.
Wheeeeeeeeeeee!
Watch out!
Stay there blue-one!
It's okay.
I won't drop you.
Me gonna eat you.

A FEW MORE UNRELATED THOUGHTS INSPIRED BY BEAR GRYLLS

I think my favorite part of any given episode of Man vs. Wild is when Bear makes a shelter. What little boy doesn't dream of making a shelter in the woods. Especially making one out of necessity! I think the act of carving a bit of comfortable space out of the wilderness speaks to that desire inherent in mankind to subdue the earth, to excercise dominion over it. I guess I shouldn't overthink it though. It just seems cool to go out in the woods and fashion a shelter of some sort. I have already told Bowden that the next time we go back to Vermont we are going to take the boat up to the overhang at Chipmans Point, construct some kind of shelter there, and pass the night sleeping where cannibals and savages used to live. I have documented, on this very blog, my regret over not staying the night there the last time I had an opportunity. I will have to remedy that mistake the next time I am back in the 802.

(I don't know who this gentleman is, but I liked his shelter. It looks like a more comfortable habitation than my birch bark wigwam, but not as cool looking though.)



ACTION

With a hot bowl full of Maccaroni and Cheese (Generic is better than Kraft) and a diet pepsi (the secret ingredient is cancer!) I recently settled in front of the TV for an episode of Bear Grylls' show "Man vs. Wild" on the Discovery Channel. It's easily one of my favorite shows. I could kill an entire day watching Bear conquer the wildest corners of the earth. In this particular episode he landed on a desolate stretch of Scotland's coast and "self-rescued" his way back to civilization.

Being an introspective person (equal parts blessing and burden) I began to ask myself what it is that appeals to me about the show. Adventure, self-sufficiency, wilderness, danger, challenge were all words that occurred to me. In truth, it brings out the little boy in me, and also a hidden, dusty part of who I am as a man. The old desire for adventure, which courses through the hearts of boys and men. On some level I want such a life so I escape for a bit and watch Bear play out my fantasies by proxy.

A spoonful of Mac & Cheese. (I have little use for forks.)

A drink of Diet Pepsi.

Another drink.

Another spoonful of mac and cheese.

And back to the show.

The scene is farcical if you take it in in its entirety. Perverse even. The fit and toned Bear Grylls scrambling down cliff faces, dangling by one hand above certain death, swimming raging rivers, meeting and conquering the worst nature has to throw at him, and me- fat, lazy me- watching him wide-eyed from the comfort of my lazy-boy. My admiration for him does not translate into action. I enjoy taking in his exploits, but I'm not motivated to imitate him.

Another drink.

Another spoonful of mac and cheese.

And back to Bear who is skinning a seal carcass he found along the shore in order to fashion some sort of wet-suit from its disembodied hide so he can swim a stretch of the north Atantic, which separates the island he has landed on from the mainland.

Confronted as I was by Bear Grylls awesomeness I couldn't help but feel a tad like a flabby pretender. I want to be a praticipant. How much do I live by proxy? Do I do this with my faith- the most important thing to me? Do I pretend.

Not always. I'm flawed, but genuine for the most part. Though perhaps, at times I am guilty of studying the life of Christ with a similar detachment. I have sat in church and I have read the Bible in a manner similar to watching Man vs. Wild. I have, at times, admired and enjoyed Jesus without imitating him.

So I asked myself...

...am I eager to do what is good or am I just an admirer of what is good?

Does my understanding of Christ and what He has done for me translate into action in my life? His love for me was an active one. Is my worshipful response?

Is it transformative?

Does it govern me?

Has it motivated me to pursue holiness and reject sin?

Or am I lazy-boy sort of Christian? How about you?

or is it just another drink of sin. Another spoonful of the flesh.

And back to the program.

THE EDGE OF IT

I do not love the ocean.What I love is the shore. I do not want to enter your world- only to flirt with it.

EARTH'S SHORT FUTURE- OBJECTION #5

What am I talking about? Click here to be brought up to speed.

The maverick nation criticism-


Possibly the most legitimate criticism is that, in order to be successfully implemented, a policy of planned dwarfism must be imposed worldwide. Due to the virtual impossibility of achieving this level of international cooperation it would seem that some form of global government, with sufficient power to propose and enforce policy, must necessarily precede the implementation of planned dwarfism. Imagine if nation A dwarfed its offspring, but its neighbor nation B did not. Nation A would then be placed at a disadvantage in a variety of areas ranging from the serious (national defense, competitive advantage of labor) to the seemingly trivial (Olympic competition, Miss Universe pageant). This is perhaps an oversimplification of a very serious and complex problem, but it must be addressed before we can go forward with a policy of planned dwarfism.

I am not convinced that international cooperation can be entirely ruled out as a possibility. The complex fabric of the people groups and nations which make up our planet are becoming more and more intertwined every year. If a majority of the earth’s nations, or even just a few powerful ones such as the United States, European Union and China concluded that this is a policy which should be implemented they could levy strict sanctions on dissenting nations in order to bring them into agreement. In this day and age there is no such thing as a true isolationist. The economies and patterns of life are so intertwined from one nation to the next that it is possible for one nation’s goals to be realized through skillful manipulation of its assets and position in the world.

THE VIEW FROM MY HOUSE- COCOA PUFFS

They should rename cocoa puffs "Rabbit Turds."

THE VIEW FROM MY HOUSE- TA+E

You can't spell Tate without "A+."

THOUGHTS I HAD TODAY BUT DIDN'T SHARE WITH ANYONE

1. That song which goes "Loving you is easy 'cause you're beautiful," does not express a particularly romantic sentiment. It's basically saying that you would be difficult to love if you were less attractive.

2. Either grapes are really good or they're just awful. Same with blueberries. Blueberries are best eaten by the handful. Who eats blueberries one at a time?

3. I wish there was a tree that was heat-pruducing. That would be useful. I guess all trees are heat producing if you burn them. Maybe it would be cooler if there were trees that actually cooled the air- like air-condition trees. Well...I guess they kinda do that too through shade. Trees are heat-producing and cold-producing! Wow!

4. Is there a difference between a bog, a swamp or a marsh? They're probably synonyms, but I don't know.

5. Can moose be domesticated and ridden? How intimidating would a cavalry charge be comprised of several hundred bull moose with their antlers sweeping out in front? That would be awesome! This image in my head makes me wish I was an artist.

6. I wish John Madden would come back out of retirement.

7. It seems odd to me that gold can't be created in a lab.

8. Why does soda cost so much? How much of this $1.75 fountain drink would be pure profit?

FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE

June 16th of this very year will mark Sarah's and my ten year anniversary. I know! Ten years! A whole decade! That's a significant milestone, and one worthy of special celebration. Some of you might remember that we had decided to celebrate in grand fashion with a trip abroad. We looked at all-inclusive resorts in the Caribbean. We looked at Italy, including Bari, the final resting place of Saint Nicholas (sorry kids, he's dead). In addition to its connection to the late Mr. Claus, Bari is also noteworthy as the old world city from which the Fusanos embarked for the New World. We also looked into Venice as well as Mediterranean cruises. But the place where our imagination finally came to rest was the East African island of Pemba. Not only is it the sort of out-of-the-way, exotic destination adventure we had in mind but our friends, Reid and sandy Arensen, live there as well. That's like having a couple native guides around who speak perfect english. Plus, we love the Arensens, and we would be excited to see firsthand what they have been up to. But as we dug deeper into the details and laid out all of the expenses it became clear that even with generous help from Uncle Sam and you (You know who you are!) we were either going to come up short or it would be very tight. Uncomfortbaly tight.We're close though. So instead of abandoning the idea entirely, and blowing our dough on a lesser adventure, we have put the money away in a special account with plans to save our money and go to Pemba, Lord willing, in 2012. We think it's worth the wait. We'll use some of it though this year to go on a cruise to Mexico or something. We'll see. Nothing as dramatic as what we had orginally planned for the big tenth anniversary, but it'll still be awesome, cause being married to Sarah is awesome, and being able to getaway at all is amazing given our humble financial position. We have a lot to be thankful for. And we are thankful!

In planning for this hypothetical trip abroad, Sarah and I both came across our old, defunct passports from the 90's. Sarah's was issued in '95, she was 17, and mine was issued the following year in '96, I was 18, and it was just months before we started dating. Both passports were obtained in advance of a trip to Europe.

First of all, it looks like if the young man in the picture to the left opened his mouth Russian might come out. I look Russian in this photo, no? Maybe Polish? Definitely slavic. My ancestry is predominantly of the Anglo-Saxon variety, but you wouldn't know it from looking at this photo. And what is going on with my hair? Get thee to a barbershop! Stat! Didn't I know they would be photographing me? Sarah was charitable to take me on as her boyfriend. That's all I have to say about that.

Sarah, who is brown as a nut and smoking hot in her picture, also looks like a foreigner, but perhaps from somewhere along the Mediterranean coast. How did these two foreign kids meet and fall in love in America?
Then I made the two pictures kiss.

CELLAR HOLES

During many of my back-east wanderings through the woods, which filled many a happy day in my youth I would sometimes happen upon an old cellar hole. Often times the spot would be far removed from any road or other habitation, way back in the woods, and I would pause for a moment to pay homage to the spot, and wonder about what had happened there. Forgotten people and forgotten lives. Forgotten effort too. (Vanity, vanity, all is vanity under the sun.) Old cellar holes always felt like a memorial that refused to focus on a specific person. More of a memorial to forgotten times in general. Not the sort of memorial which informed or brought closure- just a mysterious, forgotten place- a hole in the woods. Old cellar holes have an undeniable air of mystery about them. They raise questions rather than answer them.

Anyway, I was reading to the kids last night at bed time from the children's classic, "Miss Hickory" by Carolyn Sherwin Bailey, and happened upon this apt description of a cellar hole, and the thoughts that such a discovery always conjured in my own mind.

"The cellar hole that had once held a home had been abandoned for many years. None but a dweller of the forest could have found it, for its road was lost, its stones were overgrown with wild brier and sumac, and the old gray birches that had sprouted around it were now tall and arched by the winds into a roof. But the cellar hole could remember. There, on one side, a brick fireplace had once stood with the bean pot snuggly simmering in its oven, the andirons holding four-foot logs, and a mother rocking a cradle and knitting on the wide hearth. The cellar hole remembered spinning wheels and sleigh bells, sizzling doughnuts and molasses cookies, fishing tackle, guns, singing school and Bible readings, hardships and laughter, snow-drifts and white lilacs. Now it was nothing, but an ancient memory book of things past. The thicket of black alder, pine and hemlock that led to it kept its pages closed to all except those who love the country. And when doe had been searching for a safe home for her fallow deer, the cellar hole had seemed right. There was not even a footpath where the long-lost road had led to its smoking chimney. Granite rocks covered with lichen and moss were the only sign posts."

OVERHEARD

"I've been through tornadoes and blizzards. H---, I've even been in a hurricane before, and I'll tell you what, give me earthquakes anyday. They're not fun, but it could be worse."
White male in his sixties, speaking in an inappropriately loud voice to three of his friends, who were likewise white males in their fifties and sixties. (editors note- One of the males dissented, claiming that earthquakes were the worst natural disaster. He was alone in his opinion however as the rest, including a waitress who chimed in, seemed to agree with the first man.) Jan's Red Kettle Restaurant- Idyllwild, CA

"She kicked him out of his own house. It's his name on the deed. He paid for it, but when it all hit the fan, he was the one sleeping in his truck. Now I'm sorry, but that's just not right. I would have told the judge to go (expletive deleted) himself!"
Same male as above, still speaking at an inappropriate volume, and still using inappropriate language, to his friends, who nodded in agreement as he spoke. Jan's Red kettle Restaurant- Idyllwild, CA

MY SHOES UPDATE AGAIN

 With all of the snow that we have been experiencing I decided to give the old Police Boots the start today. It was a good choice. I love these boots. I don't know why I don't wear them more often. I especially love the way they clomp-clomp-clomp their way across hard floors. They are not particularly waterproof, and they are not terribly warm either, but there is just something about them. They're comfortable and I like the way they look. They are easily the most expensive pair of footwear in my collection- thank you taxpayers of St. Albans City!

The Mallards, which you may recall were named Captain of the Footwear after the Boat Shoes were demoted following the discovery of a small tear along the side of the instep, have now apparently suffered the same fate (see photo below). Plus, the padding inside the Mallards bunches up everytime I remove my foot (see photo above). This is even worse then the tear along the instep. Oh how the mighty have fallen! They now appear to be doomed to be demoted as well, and possibly used as a flower pot this spring.

In light of these developments, there is more uncertainty surrounding the hierarchy of my shoes than a north-African dictatorship. CNN is even reporting that the Mallards were toppled in a coup earlier this morning, and that my house slippers have assumed emergency powers. Most experts agree that this is unlikely however as the slippers are not respected enough to patch together a coalition of support. The other shoes would never respect a pair of slippers enough to allow for them to take over the top job. The snow boots especially, which are the longest tenured pair of footwear in the house, may not even consider the slippers to be proper footwear. It is possible that the newly acquired "N-Shoes," which have never even been worn, except to see if they fit, could be immediately declared the Captain of the footwear just as  John Roberts was immediately given the title of Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. A more likely scenario is that the Perry Ellis shoes could be named to the top spot following the sad news about their friends, the Mallards, ruptured instep. We all mourn the loss of the Mallards. I'll keep you posted. Things are happening pretty quickly aound here.

 In other shoe news. My Mother-In-Law has gifted us with a new shoe rack. The old one was determined by sarah to be too small and was also falling apart. This one feels luxuriously spacious and easily accomodates our shoes as well as their drama.