Information Overload

This month has been, to date, one mad dash. I only hope the time invested at work (which, of course, takes time away from more important areas of my life) yields a good return. Talk about the Protestant work ethic. Yikes. (Just read a piece on Max Weber.) Anyway, back to the grind and hope to catch a breath in a couple of weeks.

Paris Photographs

Photographs have been posted. Ah; what a trip.

http://www.geocities.com/paris_photographs/

Paris photographs;
Ah yes: Paris photographs.
Paris Photographs.

Paris in the early morning

Perhaps the most perfect moment of the trip was finding myself on the Champs-Elysses as the semi haze of nighttime yielded to morning with hardly anyone on the avenue. The patesseries were just starting to stack their carts and shelves with bread and pastries; the streets were being washed; the Arc de Triomphe looked ready to bear another day's load of traffic, history, and visitors. This Paris, not the Louvre, the Musee d'Orsay, Notre Dame, or Montmatre, felt like Hemmingway's Paris in the '20s. This was surely my moment of Paris that will stay with me forever. Eventually the myth faded as I found the 24-hr pharmacy and the Alka-Seltzer that remedied the excesses of the previous night. Paris in the early morning: there's nothing quite like it.

Paris est merveilleux!

Paris est merveilleux. Nous avons un temps et un regard fantastiques en avant à notre visite prochaine au « la Ville de Lumières ».

Paris is marvellous. We have had the time of our lives and can't wait for our next visit to the 'City of Lights'.

The City of Lights

For nearly a year
It was a thought: "Ah, Paris. "
More when we return.

On this day. . .

We are frequently saturated with "On this day. . ." type of remembrances; we hear them on the radio and see them in the media with great regularity. I usually tune these out as nothing more than white noise but I do try to listen to the "On this day. . ." segment of 'Writer's Almanac'.

So, with out further ado, on this day in 1863, President Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg address. I won't place the text here (many of you know I'm an ardent fan of the 16th President and his writings in particular) but I will post several links detailing information about the address.

Also, a recycled haiku for today:

I wish now we heard
Political discourse
Like Abraham Lincoln's.

The only known photograph of the President at the address
The 'official' website (check out the copyrights at the bottom)
A bit of modern-day technology humor related to the address
Ben's Guide for kids (wasn't he dead?)
NPR's excellent article

MaPo

Following the huge, unparalleled success of the 1964 live-action and animation adaptation of P.L. Travers' books, the Walt Disney Company named its manufacturing unit MAPO. The official description of this acronym was 'Manufacturing and Production Organization' but everyone knew it was short for Mary Poppins, the film that cemented the Disney company as 'it'.

40 years following, the wonderful folks (namely Randy Thornton) have reproduced 'it' with their new Mary Poppins Special Edition Soundtrack. For the first time, avid listeners have available to them parts of the underscore and rare views into the process of the storyline creation. In short, a real treat. It made my day.


How to make my day?
Mention Clint Eastwood? No, just
Say Mary Poppins!

Friday Night Fights

A veritable four-course heavyweight championship culinary event to be held at Fuller's house. Thanks go out to Oprah for providing the recipes.

Whenever I think
About Thanksgiving menus
I turn to Oprah?

Moving Right Along

The election aftermath has not been as gut-wrenching for me as it has been for my immediate family members. My wife and father-in-law have been way out of sorts and my SIL and BIL are considering a move to Canada. I keep telling them that if the nation survived Richard Nixon it will survive W2. It's not that bad.

I think I'll miss the blogs (especially this one and this one) more than anything else besides the disappearance of John Edwards from the national stage. Is it time to start looking for a mid-west family values friendly candidate for the Ds? If so, look no further. . .

Voting day blog

6:00am -- Alarm rings and radio comes on. News covers decision in SD to prevent Rs from following NAs to parking lots and recording license plate numbers. News also reports decision in OH to reverse 2 lower court rulings on Rs verifying residency. Back to sleep for 1/2 hour.
7:30am -- News, news, and more news. Finally decide on my candidate for IN governor. More bad news out of Iraq; will W go down as the next Teflon president if he wins today?
8:00am -- Head out to polling station. I live less than 1/3 mi from my precinct spot and can see cars already parked in the street. Looks like GOTV really worked this year.
8:15am -- Worked indeed! There must be 350 folks in Lincoln 11's polling station and only 3 voting machines to handle the turnout. One of the clerks implores people not to sign in and then not vote as it will cause the tallies to be incorrect. For the first time ever I wonder if my vote will count.
8:30am -- I see my MIL who left the house an hour and 1/2 earlier than I still in line. She still hasn't voted.
9:00am -- I've called my wife to inform her of the madness. I've also spoken to my family on the east coast. I wonder what it's like in the contested states!
9:30am -- Thinking I might need to cancel my lunch appt in 2 hours. Wish I'd brought my coffee with me.
9:45am -- Clerk again implores people not to sign in and then ditch. This is amazing. The lack of an internet connection is killing me.
10:00am -- The demographic has changed so much I can see the old guard cringing. I'd guess we're looking at a 45/55 D/R constituency. I should've been here at 6am.
10:15am -- Closing in on the 2 hour mark. Democracy 101 is in session and people are in a generally good mood. Folks with kids present are getting to know each other well; folks with physical conditions are sitting down. It seems like community has finally arrived in Lincoln 11. I'm dying to read today's Note.
10:30 -- 45 minutes to go. There's no way we'll know tonight we'll know who has won the White House or the Governor's mansion if others are suffering lines like this one. The polls close at 6pm but it will be 10pm or later before the lines empty out. I bet there's going to be at least 2 days before we know who the next president will be. I wonder how high the turnout will be. 10 million more voters this year? 15 million? Someone actually tried to start a wave. Are folks getting edgy or what?
10:45am -- My wife has arrived and I can see her on the far side of the hall. At least she brought her French language CDs and book. The kids in front and behind me can taste how close we are.
11:00 -- Voted. Off to lunch appt with a former colleague at PeopleSoft. He waited but half an hour to vote this morning.
12:15pm -- Made it to the office and finally got my news fix. Sentiment leaning towards Kerry but who knows? Time to get to work and lay off the news for a bit. Found an interesting site that predicts the electoral college.
1:30pm -- My dedication to work faltered early and have been back searching for news. More and more outlets, websites, and gut reactions say Kerry will win. Back to work for a bit.
2:30pm -- With cookie consumed and coffee in hand, listening to Brother Tavis who has Peter Jennings on to discuss how the networks will not make early calls as they did in 2000. Kerry continues to pull out his lucky charms (the 4-leaf clover from Iowa and his Red Sox cap for starters) and the mood continues to be leaning towards the Ds.
3:45pm -- Another break to check the news; not much has changed. Responded to a NY Times forum asking people to discuss their voting experiences today. Waiting for ATC to hit the airwaves at 4pm.
5:00pm -- Elation. Waiting for the TV news coverage to begin.
7:00pm -- Cautious elation.
8:00pm -- Still waiting for the call but the exit poll data is not holding up to the results. What the heck is going on?
9:00pm -- FL is not headed to Kerry. . .
10:00pm -- Have the public been duped? This thing's going to W; he's got the plurality and the EVs. What about the high turnout? Did the Rs do a better job at GOTV?
11:00pm -- Bush will return. Amazing. Hats off to Rove. He's a genius.
12:30am -- Nobody will call OH but stick a fork in this thing.
3:00am -- Woke up thinking about OH -- it's still not good.
6:30am -- What's the future of the D party? Who will represent in 2008?
8:00am -- Waiting for concession.
2:00pm -- Finit.

Candy Coma

Another Halloween come and gone; this is the first where our son might be susceptible to the condition known as 'candy coma'. It is amazing how quickly a child of three years can accumulate chocolate bars, dum-dums, smartees, and assorted other confectionaries. Compounding the issue are all of the 'aunties' who live on our street -- middle-aged women of color, and not, who love to dote on kids. My son has no idea how good he has it.

Moving on. . .
The issue of race has been a topic of conversation at our house this past week. While the election has spurned most of the discussion it helped to expose other conceptions of race in our combined household. Language can be so difficult when a term acceptable 30 years ago is no longer acceptable and carries with it a perjorative connotation. More on that later.

Prayers for Teresa and her upcoming surgery on Tuesday. (Radioactive plaque is an adjective-noun combination I've never uttered before.)

Made from toys at home
Was this year's costume for Hayes --
A construction guy.

Depressing

St. Paul, MN, home of the lovely Fitzgerald Theatre, must be one of the most depressing places on the face of the earth during late October. I cannot possibly imagine how hard it is to live here full time during the winter.

This is what I see:
Mackerel sky loaded with clouds
With no end in sight.

The DNC

Well; it's safe to say that hunting season has begun. I don't know about you, but it was exciting for me; perhaps it's a new era in politics, perhaps it's not but it is quite different from 2000. Democrats strong on defense? How long ago must we look back to find this? (Certainly Dukakis driving the tank doesn't count -- poor imitation of Snoopy.) Stronger at home, more respected in the world. It's a nice tag line and one I'm excited about.

Stick a fork in it.
The National Convention
For the Dems is done.

Kerry/Edwards

Death of Humanity

I've been struck, lately, by how living in today's modern urban cities can remove all vestiges of humanity from a person. It's a slippery slope; once you start turning a blind eye to the beggars and the unwanted it's not hard to start avoiding eye contact and then immediately raise your open hand and make the universal stop signal when people start to veer towards your path.  Regardless of the valid arguments one could make regarding how this attitude could promote safety (after all, people who prey on other people look for tell-tale signs that someone could be taken) it still remains antithetical to our Christian ideals. How can I honestly turn away from someone who, visibly distressed (and probably deranged), asks if I live in Chicago and then, when I say 'Sorry, buddy', goes off on a rant about not finding his way. How can I honestly say 'No' to the woman who is asking for change with her year-old child sleeping in her lap? How can I? It's easy -- that's the problem. As soon as you think of these persons as anything but that -- people -- it's all downhill. And, of course, there is absolutely no way to correlate this behavior with trying to bring about the Kingdom of God. I can't wait to get out of this city.

Audio Airport Haiku

One v. The Other

The demarcation line between my life and my job is the Prairie Avenue Bookshop located on South Wabash in Chicago, IL. This bookstore is on the orange line train that runs from Midway Airport to the Loop and back. Each Monday and Thursday I pass by this store and my concrete-sequential thoughts turn either to work, on Mondays, or to home, on Thursdays; these times and this place dictate the foci of my mind. Just like the tracks which the train requires to go somewhere, my mind needs this visual reminder in order to separate one from the other.

The bookstore is rather nondescript limestone, two-story building on an otherwise forgetful city block with framed windows that, at first glance, might appear soaped over to obscure what's inside. But, what's inside does count and when one gets past the exterior one is rewarded with sights completely unexpected. Rich wood, glittering steel and aluminum, vertical spaces, and a hushed ambiance present a different package altogether. So, what's more remarkable? That the two are seemingly diametrically opposed, or that it's an apt metaphor for my person?

What you see is not
One versus the other, No.
Not ying and not yang.

http://www.pabook.com/images/exterior-small.jpg

STOP THE PRESSES

Lyle Lovett, in concert, this Sunday night, June 24, 2004, at White River State Park. Tickets are 2-for-1 with a purchase price of $36.50. If interested, please let me know ASAP. . .

Fiction and Ministry but not Fictional Ministry

I finished three short stories by Alice Munro last night that just left me wanting more. These stories are some of the best I've read from her which is a wonderful thing to say because all of her work is delicious. Her stories are characterized by a clarity of intent and crisp dialogue; I highly recommend Alice Munro to everyone. As a devoted fan of the short-story genre she is one of my favorite authors. It's interesting to note that she, along with Margaret Atwood, another favorite of mine, are two of the best modern Canadian writers. There's something familiar and yet foreign in both of their works; perhaps that's the attraction.

Not meeting with the Body for the past two weeks has been a constant source of agitation for me this week. Matt's excellent jump into the breach brought about by our disparate and common conversations regarding financial support for Bill has caused a great deal of thinking for most of us, and I, too, am still working out my particular thoughts on having a 'paid staff member'. However, it's also important to remember what, if any, commitments we've made to Bill financially and discuss the ramifications of a change in support. More on this later. Can anyone tell me where IndyChurch north and west is meeting this week?

Untimely Demise

The unfortunate news came on Monday morning; Ralph Wiley, one of my favorite columnists, had passed at the age of 52 from a heart attack. Ralph's voice was not just unique but clear and prescient. He was able to speak of things that were just on the hazy edge of everyone else's knowledge. Ralph was widely known as a sports columnist but he also had a wide body of writing outside of that genre; his book, 'Why Black People Tend to Shout', was recommended to me and has been on my list of 'must reads' for more than two years now. The strange thing, though, is this: I thought of that book at least ten times this weekend and had two attempts at purchasing it aborted. Who's prescient now? I hope not me. (The follow-up to this is last night's envisioning of the dish before I went into the Chinese restaurant and having it come to my table when I thought I had expressly ordered something different. Circumstance -- that's all it is.) If you happen to come across one of Ralph's books, please pick it up and read it. Some folk just plain do not get what he had to say but fear not. It's worth the read. Anyway, the brain now has more mortality issues to sift through. It might be time to re-read Don DeLillo's 'White Noise'. This man is prescient, no doubt.

The flower beds are changing all over again in the Second City. The Magnificent Mile now has summer annuals and seasonal evergreens (they look so small and wispy I can't imagine they'll make it through the winter); impatiens are everywhere. (God knows I've a weak spot for them.) The marble sarcophaguses are now barren: the mulch is new but the plants are gone. I wonder what happened to them?

A voice taken now
That knew what was coming next.
The future is now?

Visual Explanations

I've been thinking, again, of purchasing one of Edward Tufte's critically acclaimed books on the display of information. Just the subtitle of this one is reason alone to read it: 'Images and Quantities, Evidence and Narrative'. Here's the link. What do I hope to learn? I'm not sure but I hope it will be wonderful to discover what's inside.

No 'church' this week due to diverging schedules; however, the lectionary has gained a lot of traction since last week and hopefully debate will take shape. Orthodox or Episcopalian? (The Catholic lectionary will probably not make the final cut due to readings from the Apocrypha. Why don't we have inserts?) That should be a fine discussion.

Hamlet, revisited

The Chicago Sun-Times street vendors have taken to wearing bright orange vests that have an insert where the morning's headline is vividly displayed. I'm sure it's billboard marketing akin to folks who wear sandwich boards for restaurants: why bother reading the menu when you can see the chef's special? What I find troubling, however, is that these signs are always of the 'murder most foul' variety which, I'm sure, is meant to entice the buyer to give away his 50 cents. I'd like to see the Sun-Times pass a moratorium on this type of advertising for just one week; I might purchase a paper.

Just like the weather, church is starting to heat up. A breakthrough of heirloom quality was made this weekend and should start to make the walk a bit uncomfortable again, yet far more rewarding in the long run. For IndyChurch N&W I think summer vacation is over before it even started.

'Toddler was murdered'
Read hawker's daily shirt sign.
How could you wear that?

Summer's End

Ah, at last; summer nears. This Memorial Day weekend brought with it the usual trappings of this lovely season: long car trips; beautiful misty mornings facing due east on Long Lake; the obligatory trip past the Cherry Hut to the Market Basket; cooking outdoors; fly-fishing. Absolutely wonderful. As I was contemplating the next trip to the lake house I began to think of those who have spent more summers at the lake in their past than those to come. In fact, as elderly family members slowly pass as I write and much, much younger ones just realizing what the lake holds in store for them I enter a new chapter in my understanding of death knowing God's grace is sufficient even for me.

Ah, at last. Summer.

Please look here for a very sensitive examination of Oregon's Death with Dignity law. A multimedia feature is to be found on the lower right hand side of the page.

The summer season
Brings with it understanding
That winter follows.

Contemporary Resort at Walt Disney World

Anyone care to guess the subject of this photo? Hint: although it's an 'elevated train', it's not in Chicago. . . 

Elevated train
Round the seven seas lagoon.
Contemporary.

Way to go, Elaine!

Book Reviews

The official taxi cab threshold, for anyone who's interested, has been set at 6688. That's a lot of cabs.

Done with 'The Moviegoer' and on to 'Oryx and Crake', by Margaret Atwood. A few things about Walker Percy's 1962 National Book Award winner before moving on to Atwood's novel. First; what malaise! That's the book in one word. I should've remembered this book would put me in a funk. The book is set in New Orleans, in the early 1950's. The plot follows the post-war, stock and bond selling life of Jack 'Binx' Bolling. Binx is close to 30 and has a strong extended family matriarch who, in the absence of closer parents, has set about organizing and setting expectations for Binx. It is her step-daughter, Kate, who Binx identifies with and is the only one who seems to understand Binx's quest. The publisher states on the book jacket, "In his portrait of a boyish New Orleans stockbroker wavering between ennui and the longing for redemption, Percy managed to combine Bourbon Street elegance with the spiritual urgency of a Russian novel." The part referring to "a Russian novel" is a bit too much, for me, I think. Nonetheless, an excellent book that spins a bit too fast towards the end but definitely closes the circle.

Atwood's novel is, at two-thirds of the way through, just short of electrifying. Atwood is a master of the 'plausible science fiction' genre and this tale, of the end of humanity, is not only a good read but a smart one, too. Anyone who enjoys the moral and ethical tug of the current bio-genetic and environmental debate should pick this up at the bookstore (there's one conveniently listed at the bottom of this page) and spend some time in a cozy chair, or airport terminal.

I like to clean up
Loose Ends before moving on
To new thoughts and blogs.

Photo of the China Pavilion at Epcot

Photograph courtesy of BloggerBot and Hello! 

Chicago Taxi Cabs

I saw something today that made me take pause and wonder what the chances were, on any ordinary day in Chicago, that a person would see the same thing I saw. It's purely a numbers game but it really caught my eye and made the analytic in me take note and caused my fellow pedestrians to steer clear of me as the smoke caused by the gears turning in my mind came pouring out of my head. What was it? I saw the number 1 taxi cab on W Jackson Blvd, a block west of the Chicago Board of Trade. What's so special about that? Absolutely nothing -- except that as I started paying closer attention to the cabs I saw numbers as high as 4962 on the cabs. (Each cab has its own medallion, the license to operate so to speak, and a unique number to identify it from the thousands of other cabs in Chicago. These numbers are unique to all cabs in the city so, in other words, although there may be 30 odd cab companies, there is only one number 1 cab in all of Chicago.) Pretty interesting. But then, the reality set in; what's so neat about it? Why does the number one have some greater expectation or importance than number 478, 2921, or 4962? Why did this one, this solitary cab, cause me to stop whatever was bumping about in my head (Walker Percy's 'The Moviegoer', if you must know) and think, 'Hey, this is pretty cool"? I don't know.

The everyday walk
Made somewhat exciting when
I saw that taxi.

Tulips

The tulips are gone in Chicago. When in bloom, they line the Magnificent Mile, the Gold Coast, and the avenues around the financial district in their granite cases and shout for all who have eyes that spring is here. However, their job as heralds quickly gave way to death and now they stand, without bloom, like skeletons in marble sarcophaguses. It might've been the recent storms with pelting rains and volatile winds but it also could've been just their time. The pansies, which previously balanced the tulips height in perfect counterpoint, now call to mind forlorn dogs waiting for their masters to return, not knowing they cannot. Strange how a simple flower box can come to this.

A new hotel this week due to a failure to book the previous one and the perfect storm of a food service convention. As a result: a longer walk along the north shore and shopping district and a new walking pattern.

One, two, three, four, five:
The walking mantra. Now; primed.
Two, three, five, seven.

Drudgery

I've reached the point in a project where all of the 'newness' has worn off and it no longer carries with it any real excitement: it's just another implementation. Like the flip of a coin one of two positions emerges; one side is boredom and the other is grudging acceptance that, at least, the euphoria has worn off and the work may start.

It probably hasn't helped matters that I'm reading 'The Moviegoer', by Walker Percy. It's amazing how one book can make you want to be an introvert again. It's too early for the dog days of summer, but not too early for a vacation. Come on, Memorial Day.

Work sounds: 'Blah, blah, blah.'
I just want to play with Hayes
And make it all stop.

MP at 40

And the best news all day, you ask? The upcoming release of the 40th Anniversary 'Mary Poppins' soundtrack, courtesy of Walt Disney Records. As many of you know, I teeter on the edge of obsession with this film. And, via the magic of the repeat button on my son's CD player, he, too, is dangerously close by virtue of track 14 on the 35th Anniversary soundtrack, 'Step in Time'. (How obsessed am I? Take a look; many of you know me by my alter ego.)

What's so remarkable about a bulletin board group, you ask? Well, the person who responded to my post actually happens to be the person responsible for the aforementioned 40th release at Walt Disney Records. Pretty cool, if you ask me. I think I've been pushed down the face of the obsession cliff. Look out below!

'Sister Suffragette'
Is mine. 'Step in Time' is his.
What? Our favorites.

Patty and Eugene

I've been drawn into a very interesting discussion regarding language, its deconstruction, and its effect on our relationships with those who matter most: our God; our families; our fellow travelers; our soul mates. The discussion stems from Eugene Patterson's 'Answering God: The Psalms as Tools for Prayer' and originates with Patty Hana's careful examination of how Patterson broaches the subject of language levels. (Please see Patty's blog for her thoughts on this topic, dated May 11.) I've ordered this book and am growing ever anxious to interpret it myself; I'm especially eager to think about removing the 'unnecessary' from our language and learning what is essential. We shall see.

On another topic altogether, it takes 1,297 steps to reach the client site from my hotel in Chicago including the subway. Bryan, that's for you.

Impractical shoes
High heels, pointy toes. Yes, these
Men do not suffer.

Actuarial Tables

Well, it was bound to happen. There are a few items in one's life that the actuarial tables are designed to predict: you have a 1 in 2 chance of being involved in an auto accident in your lifetime; you have a 1 in 9 chance of your house catching fire; you have a 1 in 22 chance of having your car stolen; etc. (These are not 'real' actuarial values; they're merely illustrations. Those who know me also know I've endured all three before reaching 35 so, perhaps, going forward, I should be exempt from all three. After all, one can wish.)

These garden variety chances are insignificant to the mordant ones: for example, what is the chance your child will survive to adulthood? (These are the ones that occupy the dusty corners of my mind and refuse to let go. They return, like wicked migratory waterfowl, to your mind over and over again just as your brain shuts down for sleep.) This actuarial table, which I'm sure exists, is the bane of my existence. Slowly, but surely, one crosses the threshold of potentially catastrophic events in the life of your child and, hopefully, you emerge, relatively unscathed, on the other side. (But for the grace of God -- thank you.)

Yet another of these milestones was passed this weekend: child choking on food. Not the 'cough, cough' type, mind you, but the full monty. Fortunately, I reacted with less volatility than usual, and the offending pickle (yet another reason to not eat at McDonald's) was quickly thrown in the trash can. (Although, I did look at it for quite some time afterwards, in amazement and fear. A pickle!) The boy is fine and, more importantly, for my mind's sake, I can cross another actuarial item off the list. God help me.

His life; more precious
Than I consider mine. And,
To think; a pickle!

Just Do It

It's not that I don't want to write; in fact, it's the opposite. When something is revealed to me I always want to put it into words: the job of the poet. Then why is it so hard? Why is it so hard to transfer the thought, the thread in your mind to bits and bytes or scratch marks? Is it because the urge hits you at the most inopportune moment?

I don't know. But, nonetheless, it is.

Air rushes by me
And brings the sweet, street perfume
To the subway stairs.

'A Pocket Full of Bobs': it's what I hope to one day call my memoirs or a collection of poems.

The term originated when Hayes was a bit younger and I constantly found my pockets (pants, jackets, shirts) jam packed with his pacifiers. I would go to business meetings, the grocery store, or to sleep and find them, as always, in my pockets. And, as many of you know, Hayes refers to them as 'bobs' -- one of his first words. So, a title was born.

A strange name for some,
Yet quickly makes sense. Yes, a
Pocket full of bobs.

New address

Ahhh; there's nothing like the comfort of a blog site with your own name. . .

Getting Old

Middle time is when
One sustains the previous
And cares for the young.

It's quite an unusual experience when you reach the point in your life where you are no longer the one who is receiving the care of a parent. When I say this, I refer not to the love a child receives but something more like being the center of attention. And, almost without realizing it, many of us are at the point where we are providing care not only to our new to the world children but also to our not-so-new to the world parents. It's a turning point in who we are and our responsibilities to our families, to our future selves, and our culture at large. When did all of this happen?

As Spring crocus rise
Precise, blue alpine visions
Stream through my mind's eye.

I wish now we heard
Political discourse
Like Abraham Lincoln's.

In honor of Honest Abe's birthday (February 12, 1809), a few lines from his 2nd inaugural address, given just one month prior to his death.

Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with or even before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. . . . "The judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether."
With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.

Pixar's said goodbye,
Roy's gone too. Investor show;
Changing of the guard?

Late breaking update

And now for something completely different:

Oh blue rounded tin,
What treasure lies within you?
Pink, potted meat: Spam!

There's a whole sub-culture devoted to Spam haikus. . .

Some of us may need
Comfort at this journey point
Based on where we've been.

Jeopardy is what
Alex Trebek discovered
While driving last week.

Sign said Self Storage
Ten by fifty, twenty bucks.
Small id and ego!

Red impact crater?
Through time and space we find our
Opportunity.

Salvation Army
Billions richer (willed by Kroc):
A raise for Stanger?

Political debate, in honor of the Iowa caucuses:

Nine seconds is not
Ample time to write haikus:
Nor should soundbites be.

A New Year's attempt to keep the blog somewhat active: haiku. More details to follow but here's the annual Christmas haiku sent with our Christmas cards for 2003.

New? Minivan (sigh)
Testy twos, mon ami notes,
A new house for five