Fleeting Bliss

An absolutely delicious mango ice tea that I enjoyed in a nice restaurant right next to the ruins in Byblos, Lebanon. The shot was taken right before I managed to knock the entire thing into my lap. I may have said bad words.

Baby-Sitting the Barbarians

One of the best parts of living at Quarry Hill was spending time with Mike and Jamie and their boys, referred to lovingly, albeit fearfully, as the Barbarians. I've posted pictures of Jack-Jack before, including his startling similarity to Jack Nicholson.

Here are a few pictures of a time when I was watching Nick and Jack-Jack while Mike and Jamie ran errands. Here they are tussling, shortly before Jack-Jack cracked his nose on the railing and had his daily nose bleed. Then there is a picture of Nick, completely unconvinced by my attempt to convince him that the 1975 Reds are the greatest team of all-time. I even had my starting lineup figures out to explain the logic.

Now, Jack-Jack was a little easier to convince, although he was still concerned that many of the Reds had "ploppy pants." However, he was very enthusiastic when it came to belting out his famous/infamous version of the National Anthem, which tends to circle back on itself and never quite get finished - but he enjoys it and so do I. Now, on the end of the spectrum is their younger brother Sam, aka Slug or Spud, who has not quite reached pure Barbarian maturity yet, and who, for some unknown reason, adores me. The older boys put up with me and will, especially Jack-Jack, demand to be put into the torture rack.

Spirits in the Rain

I wish I would have had more time to spend in Lisbon. It was one of those crazy trips that you throw together on the fly, and I am so glad that I went - but I can't wait to get back for a longer stretch. Oddly, or not so oddly if you know me, one of the best parts of the trip was a very wet and windswept couple of hours that I spent in a cemetery that I stumbled across at the end of the trolley line. The entire cemetery was filled with fascinating mausoleums, a couple of which were broken in to (or at least in the midst of serious and clumsy repair). I still think in the one picture looking into the mausoleum you can see a ghost, but maybe I'm the only one who can see it. There is something soothing about walking around a cemetery. Lord knows I spent hours of my time in graduate school loafing around Spring Grove Cemetery in Cincinnati, often bringing books there to read. Even now when I head back to Cincinnati every spring for my fantasy baseball draft Dave and I always head out to Spring Grove for a long walk (made longer by the fact that we lose the car every time). I really like a couple of these pictures (along with the picture of the yellow roses from the same cemetery that I posted last week). The statue featuring the death mask is really creepy, and the mask, with water running down it, looks like it is ready to talk or spray mist. Mary and the flowers is also quite beautiful, and, stealing a line from Simple Men, "she's also the mother of God."

Creation Museum

Of all the amazing things that Sanford and I experienced on the way to Guymon, Oklahoma, the one that we discussed the most - literally it came up in conversation almost once an hour for the rest of the trip - was our utterly bizarre visit to the Creation Museum outside of Cincinnati. I had heard about it and cajoled Sandy into making the trip, although he was more than a little aprehensive. It was easy enough to reach, sitting right off of Interstate 275 on the Kentucky side.

I think we were both a little shocked at the cost - $25 a piece, but, truthfully, it may be the best money I ever spent. If you want to understand America - today's sadly warped America - you definitely should visit it. Still, $25? I could have paid my way into the Herimtage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia (my all-time favorite museum) almost three times over for what it cost to get into that ridiculous place. Sandy and I figured that it must have been to keep out the riffraff, although we made it in anyway. One the way over we had a serious discussion about what percentage of people would at the museum solely to giggle and mock. Sandy boldly predicted 50%. I'm not certain the exact percentage, but you could figure it out by taking two and dividing it by the number of people who strolled through the turnstyles that day. We were the only scoffers; every one else were true believers. And a lot of them. Just in our row in the parking lot we counted cars from over twenty different states. This was definitely a vacation destination spot.

If you haven't figured it out already, the Creation Museum is dedication to creationism, although in a very clever/evil way. It presents itself as a fair and balanced (Fox News, anyone?) attempt to get at the truth and beyond the tyranny of the leftward leaning secular "scientific" community. Although I don't know how fair and balanced it is to refer to Voltaire as an infadel. I don't know if I can truly do it justice. I wish that Blogspot as better for posting videos, because I have priceless ones (some of which you can see if you click on the link to Oklahoma Excellence blog). Some of the claims are wildly, creatively absurd - I didn't actually know the role that the theory of evolution played in Germany's entry into World War I, for instance. Others are more subtle, and thus, in my mind anyway, more dangerous.

The 800 pound gorilla in the room is Jesus and the archly-evangelical wing of Christianity, but beyond a few sly references he is almost non-existent (I included a picture of the stone being rolled back from his tomb, about the only direct reference). This, of course, is part of the not too subtle attempt to make it seem like a real museum and not a glossy propaganda vehicle. Most of the material featured is Old Testament, which is amusing/astonishing because, in addition to being anti-Arabic and misogynistic and racist, there is more than a hint of anti-semitism to the displays. Keep in mind that these are the same evangelicals who are so fascinated in Israel, not because they feel any true kinship to the Jews, but rather because of the role that a very specific destruction of Israel will play in the end times.

Probably my favorite part of the museum was the overwhelmingly pseudo-scientific attempt to promote the idea that the world is only around 4500 years old and that people lived at the same time as the dinosaurs. The display of dinosaurs walking up onto the ark was pretty convincing, along with the picture here of the dinosaurs resting comfortably on the ark in a bed of straw. The signs even explained that Noah brought baby dinosaurs on to the ark because they took up less space and were easier to control. One of the best discussions Sandy and I had was in response to the sign that explained how poisonous plants became poisonous after Adam and Eve were ejected from paradise. I launched into a theological argument with him, unfortunately too loudly, on the spot about the logical implications of that belief - and I thought we were going to be asked to leave by the security guards if not beaten by the true believers. The atmosphere was, to tell you the truth, pretty oppressive.

Now, before anyone gets insulted, please understand that this is not a specific anti-Christian or broader anti-religious rant. In my own peculiar fashion I am a deeply spiritual person. This is not even an attack on Creationism or the people who expouse that point of view. It's not what I believe in, but the world is a lot bigger than me and my belief system. Rather, I am horrified by the shameless bait and switch propaganda of the place. Come for the dinosaurs, stay for the sermon. I mean, it is just evil. All kids love dinosaurs, so why not draw them in and sell them this pseudo-scientific sermon. We live in a complicated age where people face serious issues, and promoting this brand of "thinking" doesn't benefit anyone. And, I would argue, it hurts religion itself more than anything else. Science can take care of itself. For that matter, God can take care of him/her/itself. Young children being indoctrinated - and taught very faulty logic - can't take care of themselves. There were children there on school trips, the buses lined up, waiting for the brain-washing and the gentle pithing.

What I Saw on Mulberry Street

Another picture from the epic trip to Guymon, Oklahoma from this past summer. Once again, Sanford Zale happily put up some one of my odd requests (although I guess when you cajole your friend to spend two weeks driving to Guymon you have given them a lot of ammunition). Here's the house where I grew up in beautiful little Rising Sun, Indiana. And, yes, it is on Mulberry Street, in Rising Sun, Indiana. And how I got from there to Kasgar, China and Beirut, Lebanon and Mumbai, India and St. Petersburg, Russia and Nairobi, Kenya and Port Elizabeth, South Africa and Melbourne, Australia and Amman, Jordan and Muscat, Oman and Lisbon, Portugal and Alexandria, Egypt and Lucca, Italy and Fez, Morocco is anybody's guess. Wow, I am tall.

The Left

Here's a nice picture that the excellent Sanford Zale snapped of me outside of the Eugene V. Debs home as we passed through my home state of Indiana. Sandy was a good soul to put up with my odd requests such as visiting the Debs homesite, the Creation Museum (more on that later), Holcomb, Kansas etc. Debs has always been a hero of mine and I can't believe that anyone could ever make a compelling argument against him being the greatest Hoosier. It is so odd to think that Indiana, such a grossly arch-conservative state, could have produced the most famous and influential American socialist. I am the black sheep socialist born into a family of Republicans (all of whom are much more socially liberal than they would ever let on) so it is natural that I would have been drawn to Debs. Now, granted that I am a hopeless romantic, but I've never believed that the left, specifically socialism, is dead. Today's Democrats are, for the most part, nothing more than Republican posers anyway - which is one of the things that I love about living in such an unabashedly liberal state like Vermont. We do have, in Bernie Sanders, the only socialist Senator in the US. However, even the Republicans in Vermont are a different breed, and I always argue that the average Indiana Democrat is more conservative than the average Vermont Republican. As the economic situation grows more and more dire, and the rich carve off more and more of the world for themselves, there has to be an alternative. The latest sobering statistic I saw is that one in two Americans is either living in poverty or has a low wage job. 50%. Is this what has become of the American dream? And yet we as a nation continue to dream that we'll, against all odds, become the rich ones, the ones that shouldn't have to pay the "death tax", the ones who shouldn't have to fund governmental assistance that more and more of us are queueing up for every year, the ones who will soon, soon, all too soon, benefit from the loop holes that allow the rich to escape without paying taxes. The Europeans, and with a touch of sadness, will sometimes speak of the passing of American democracy - has the same thing happened to the American moment? To me, the moment is past if we continue down this ridiculous path. For all of the old fear about socialism killing the American dream, in the end it might be what saves the American dream. But how to get there? Maybe the key question is figuring out whether the Occupy Wall Street movement actualy means something or if it is just fashion? Still, you have to start somewhere. As Marx reminds us, "I am nothing, but I must be everything."

Four Sport Triathlon

Now, of course, I should be packing, but, instead, I'm getting caught up on some remarkably delayed blogging. I am doing laundry and have already worked out - and made arrangements to get my hair cut at 4:30 - so I am doing some constructive work (sort of). The end of the year - as well as the upcoming trip - have put me in a very reflective mood. As I think back upon the last year I am just consistently amazed at one extraordinary friends I have. And here is concrete evidence: the Four Sport Triathlon. Erik Eskilsen, one of Champlain's great unkown evil geniuses (besides just being a regular run of the mill genius - and an extraordinarily great guy) put together arguably the great sporting competition since the golden age of the ancient Greek Olympics. The competition featured minature golf, bowling, pool and darts. It was truly a competition for only the best and brightest, and one that severely tested even the hardiest of souls - especially when you calculate in the consumption of greasy food groups and adult beverages at every step along the way.

Now, anyone who knows me will tell you that I guard my birthday pretty tenaciously, and it was my belief that no one at Champlain (with the exception of a couple trusted souls) even knew my birthday. Normally I tell everyone I meet a different date to throw off the hounds. So, when I saw that Erik had scheduled the Four Sport Triathlon for my birthday, I figured it was a complete coincidence since there was no discussion involving the significance of that date. Needless to say, I was a big shocked when I showed up and discovered that the inaugural Four Sports Triahlon bore my name, which was proudly emblazened on the rules sheet. Beyond putting together the sports and calculating out the sporting venue logistics, Erik had also produced a remarkably complicated set of rules (and every page had a different picture of me, all swiped from the Internet).

Anyway, it was an amazing time. As it turns out I was only able to stick around for the first part of the competition because of a previous engagement, but from all accounts it was the stuff of legend. In the end Andy Burkhardt, probably because of his extreme youth, was able to outlast the last competitor and receive the laurel crown at Ake's Place (at around 2:30 in the morning, a more fourteen hours after the opening ceremonies).

Again, I am so blessed to have such amazing friends.