Five Miles From Home

Hike at Rachel Carson Park in Laytonsville, MD

2011-10-15T11:13:00.000-07:00

The selfish side of me wants to keep the little gem a secret. But the citizen in me realizes that I have a duty to my fellow American. These were taken at Rachel Carson Conservation Park (or Hawlings River Park, depending on which map you look at). A beautiful set of trails with some stunning scenery.

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Sleeping in the Space Shuttle

2011-10-05T07:01:00.000-07:00

Recorded this off NASA Select TV years ago. Astronauts sleeping in the space shuttle.

Frogs in Space

2011-10-03T18:22:00.000-07:00

Saw this on NASA Select TV years ago and hit Record. I found it again. It is on one of the Shuttle Biology missions:

Hawaiian Shirt vs. Age Chart

2011-09-30T09:59:00.000-07:00

Exclusive definition of Exclusive

2011-09-28T10:21:00.000-07:00

On the Apple I-Tunes website. It is an interesting use of the term exclusive when it is shared by 16 million other people:

The Real Jersey Shore

2011-09-25T16:22:00.000-07:00

Carling Family Jazz

2011-09-04T07:53:00.000-07:00

A family get together at the Carling house must have been a lot of fun...

Familiar Field, Fresh Light

2011-05-22T13:06:00.000-07:00

For 17 years I have looked down the street to the farm field. When the farm dumps mountains of manure on the field I don't have to even look to know it is there. At times the light is right and the field is full of color and shadows. When that happens, I grab my camera and run down to try to capture it. Having photographed it, it is no longer the same old field at the end of the road. It is a lovely model waiting to become art.

Although, not exactly art, here are some attempts to photograph the model in her late afternoon glory.

Maintenance and Permanence

2011-01-29T08:42:00.000-08:00

Something extremely obvious struck me this morning. Any information in digital form (such as this blog) will only exist as long as someone maintains it. By "maintain", I don't mean someone has to keep posting updates, rather that the host for the service must keep it running, the company must stay in business, the formats being used in the files must be upgraded as the become obsolete, backups need to be performed and computers kept running. That means all of our digital data will likely evaporate in a few years. I have files on my computer at work that were created by an IBM program called write. They are binary files and I have no software that can read them. There may be a translator out there somewhere, but I haven't bothered to look for it because I'm not maintaining them. The significant things is that they must be actively maintained to continue to exist.

If I had printed my my IBM Write files out into a book form in the 1980's when they were created, it would be still on my shelf and still accessible. It would require no maintenance or involvement other than keeping them from getting water damaged or throwing them away in a cleaning fit. So much of the information in my life and all of our lives is maintained in a fragile, high maintenance format that requires constant (on an historic time scale) intervention to keep it from vanishing. All of my family photos are now digital. I have a few prints of a few good ones but they are electronic. I back them up on multiple computers and even to an internet back-up service. Yet all the places where the sit require the regular, ongoing, active support of a large number of people. We are like the proverbial plate spinners. The moment anyone walks away, all our information collapses into a worthless pile.

Bicycle

2010-10-09T19:11:00.000-07:00

Ray Bradbury, in his fine book Dandelion Wine, perfectly describes the effect of a new pair of sneakers on a 12-year-old boy. He can run like the wind. Superhuman speed, simply tying on a new pair of shoes. This past week Diane bought a bicycle for me and I feel the same thrill as a new pair of sneakers.

I played hooky in the middle of all my chores today. The sky was clear, the temperature flawless and the new bicycle bucking in its stall. I hadn't done more than a quick trip down the street the day I assembled it and the long day of chores was beginning to feel all too responsible. Without telling anyone I put on the helmet, rolled it quietly into the driveway and the rocketed out into the street.

Cranking the pedals like a 12 year old boy, it wasn't until about the end of the first mile when my middle-aged body began to wake up to what was going on. Everything began to get tired, my lungs began to get sore and legs rubbery. Fortunately I had many stretches of long coasting to keep the illusion alive for a little longer.

I rolled back into the driveway having only been gone a few minutes. I was covered in sweat and breathing hard and wondering what new aches I would discover in the morning. But it was an exhilarating trip back four decades to the thrill of the fantasy of new. New sneakers, a new bike and a brief dabble into the world of the superhuman.

Comfortable Camping

2010-05-23T08:50:00.001-07:00

We are going to attempt camping this year. Not the wilderness/backpacking type of camping, rather the camping next to your mini-van with extension cords coming from your in-laws house type of camping. Having the goal of making sure it is as little like camping as possible, I've started doing some research on how to make things as comfortable as possible. If there are experienced campers out there who know some good tricks please let us know. Here is what I have so far:

Facilities
• Large multi-room tent
• Pack everything in plastic bins to keep things dry and double as light stands
• Cots for everyone
• Chairs for everyone
• Lots of rope
• Basic tools including multi-tool
• Tarp over the tent
• Tarp under the tent
• Tarp over wash/up area
• Clothes Pins
• Store stuff in the van at night

Electricity and Lighting
• Lots of extension cords
• Power strip
• Lamps and reading lights
• Flashlights
• Headlamps (and batteries)
• Outdoor lights (white Christmas light string maybe)

Kitchen
• Electric cooler for milk and snacks
• S’more supplies
• Basic utensils
• Bowls
• Cups
• Dish soap
• Sponges
• Portable water jug/container
• Dish towels

Bathroom
• Hand Towels
• TP
• Wet wipes
• Hand sanitizer
• Wash basin – Rubbermaid bin maybe
• Camping toilet (for night time use)
• Solar shower for hot water?

Bedroom
• Sleeping bags
• Pillows
• Sheets
• Mattress Pads
• Use bins for end tables

Entertainment
• Campfire supplies
• Matches
• Games and cards
• Books and writing material

Bugs, Dirt and Moisture management
• Citronella candles
• Bug spray
• Entrance rug
• Trash bags
• Rain ponchos
• Battery vacuum and charger
• Hand broom and dust-bin
• Add thin layer of soft foam as a gasket around bin lid (maybe us locking lid) to keep bugs out
• Fly swatter

Beach Haven

2010-05-10T16:37:00.001-07:00

For those who didn't get to go to the beach this weekend, here are some pictures. There is nothing like the beach in the off-season when it is chilly and the island is empty.

The white cliffs of NJ

A lone and chilly fisher-person.

Dune Flowers

Lone dune flower

Jetty at dusk

Another of the jetty at dusk.

Looking South at Dusk

Diane and Erin

Spring

2010-04-11T12:54:00.000-07:00

There are few places as pretty as Maryland in the spring.

Today We're Irish

2010-03-21T19:16:00.000-07:00

With my return from my week away and a delightful evening with friends with some enthusiastic Irish roots, tonight we celebrated a late Saint Patrick's day. Corned Beef, in the Boiled Vermont Dinner style along with most of the movie, The Secret of Roan Inish, made the extremely sparse Irish blood in me flare with excitement. I don't really know how much, if any, Irish I have in me, but esthetically I certainly enjoy the fictionalized Ireland of movies, books and cooking. I don't know if visiting Ireland would be disillusioning or satisfying. At this point it is merely an academic issue since we have not plans to visit. In the mean time, the fictional version is quite delightful.

The Artificial World of Business Travel

2010-03-15T10:28:00.000-07:00

On a recent business trip I stayed in a business hotel directly connected to a high-rise where my meetings took place. The hotel was about as close to flawless as they get with huge, immaculate rooms, precisely tasteful furnishings, and an enclosed central atrium with tropical trees that were either plastic or perfectly maintained. The adjacent high rise was also flawlessly sterile with every aspect state-of-the-art and perfect. I was able to walk between my room and my meetings without going outside which wasn't a big deal since as far as the eye could see was the same flawlessly manicured, tech-corridor style architecture and landscaping. The connecting facilities had all the restaurants I could possibly need. It was like being on a cruise ship and a complete immersion into artificial perfection.

In that kind of world you can't imagine sickness or poverty or suffering. It doesn't seem possible that any life form, except clean, healthy and neatly dress humans, can live or have ever lived in anything except the omnipresent televisions. The sterility and the perfection are stunning and I imagine that there are many who spend most of their lives like this - or at least want to. I can appreciate it at some levels, but I'll take reality with all it's flaws.

Reality

2010-02-28T20:00:00.000-08:00

TV is not real. DVD's are not real. Video Tapes are not real. Internet is not real. Email is not real. Facebook is not real. Phone conversations are not real. Texting is not real. MP3's are not real. CD's are not real. Radio shows are not real. Climate controlled environments are not real. Computer designs of satellites are not real. Teleconferences are not real. Most of my life revolves around things that are not real.

Winter Beach

2010-02-21T05:10:00.000-08:00

One of the many ways that we buck common sense is winter trips to a winter beach. Beach trips in the winter are not all that unusual and they usually involve the state of Florida. Stepping into an airport out of a frigid winter wind and out of the airport into the warm Florida air two hours later is like magic. Although we are avid fans of walking on a warm Florida beach in the dead of winter, the opportunity is usually well beyond our reach. On the other hand, a winter beach is only 3-4 hours drive away at the Jersey shore. When the snow is piled up on the dunes and the temperature is adjusted by windchill rather than humidity, hotels are dirt cheap, the beaches are empty, and you have your pick of the best tables at the few restaurants that are open. We love the beach in the winter.

It is not without its drawbacks. We made almost 4 attempts to come the the Jersey shore in January and February this year and were thwarted by record snow storms each time. One of our winter visits a few years ago, the sand was frozen solid. Despite the appearance of soft, undulating, talcum powder beach, it was like walking on uneven cement. Our feet didn't leave the least mark. Almost everyplace that the girls like to visit has the word "Gifts" in the title and they are almost universally closed for the season.

But we have been to the same beach in August. We have stepped onto a beach where the odds were much better you would step on people than sand. We have sat on roads backed up for miles in shimmering heat waiting for our turn to join the crowds of sunburned humanity. We have battled surging mobs at pizza joints and sandwich shops for our daily ration of beach food. We'll take the beach in the dead of winter any time.

Diane's Video

2010-02-09T16:26:00.000-08:00

Canterbury Tales General Prologue

John 19

2010-02-09T05:23:00.000-08:00

I read the story of Jesus's crucifixion in John 19 this morning. It was carried out in a remote Roman occupied territory by handful of bureaucrats trying to appease a small mob of subjugated, self-important hypocrites. It was ugly, brutal and only seemed relevant to a handful of uneducated peasants. But the entire world pivoted about that moment and everything changed. The most momentous events in history pale in comparison to that seemly tiny event. There is nothing even remotely comparable to the crucifixion as an event, a story or a world changing moment. And yet it was so completely insignificant by all outward appearances. I found it simply stunning.

Snow Day

2010-02-07T13:37:00.000-08:00

How can something so cold cause so much joy. We sit cozy and wrapped in a white cocoon in no hurry to be freed by the noisy snow plows. It is more than just snow. It is the simplicity that has been forced upon us. All the daily busyness that converts our lives into the harried frenzy we call normalcy is silenced in a snow storm. We can't race around late for appointments. We just sit by the fire and read or do the delightfully mindless work of shoveling. Deadlines can't get at us unless they have a 4x4 - which they don't. There is nothing like a snow day. It makes me wonder if it hints at heaven.

Beach

2010-01-28T18:03:00.000-08:00

We reserved a house at the beach for a week this summer. That makes my spring fever begin to rise. It is a beautiful place where we have stayed twice before with a wall of windows that overlook the ocean. It is in a beautiful small residential island in North Carolina where the summer heat is intense, the sand soft and white, the ocean clear and warm, and the crowds miles away in Myrtle Beach. We are beach people so it is one of the few lavish extravagance that we are willing save all year for.

The last couple of times we were there we tended to stay inside much more than I expected. I could attribute it to age, but with a wall of glass overlooking the ocean and a nicely tuned air conditioning system, sitting on the hot beach didn't have all that much appeal. When the sun got low and the air cooler, we would wander for miles up and down the white expanse. I even walked the full length of the island, much of which is wildlife refuge. Vicky told my mother that she was getting spring fever and my mother said that she had to wait until after February. I didn't know that rule so I better stop thinking about the beach house.

Did I mention that the low temperature is supposed to be 17 tonight...

Sharpening Pencils

2010-01-12T18:19:00.000-08:00

When I was a young teenager, I decided that I was disgusted by my lack of productive accomplishments. I set a goal to keep busy even if it meant sharpening pencils. I had a large box of unsharpened pencils and it wasn't long until I had nothing to do, so I began sharpening pencils. I have always looked back on that as pathetic immaturity. I traded the meaninglessness of doing nothing with the meaninglessness of sharpening pencils - or did I?

There seems to be value in work, even if it is trivial work. There seems to be no value in doing nothing. In fact, it seems like doing nothing is squandering the priceless, finite resource of life. If so, it is not neutral, rather it has harmful, if not evil. I may have ended up with a box of sharp pencils but I also ended up with a few minutes not "doing nothing". By "Doing Nothing" I don't mean rest. Rest is an active, necessary and significant action. I also don't mean "Silence. That is a deliberate choice to quiet the soul and experience God. Doing nothing is the purposeless waste of time, which has consumed large portions of my life over the years.

I hopefully can find more valuable ways to spend the precious minutes of my life than sharpening pencils, but it seems that even that trivial event is dramatically more valuable than the vacuum of purpose that it replaced. If a sharpened pencil can be significant, how much more can praying, loving, serving, caring, encouraging, sharing, writing, reading, listening, and helping. All of which are around me and available to be picked up any moment of the day - and sharpened.

Quiet

2010-01-05T18:20:00.000-08:00

The house is deliciously silent. The wood stove is keeping the place warm enough that the furnace isn't kicking in. When the furnace runs, we have the gentle gurgling of hot water running through the baseboard pipes - which is much nicer than the dull roar of cold air coming out of the vents in our previous, heat-pump house. But the silence of the the wood stove is best of all. The TV and radio are off and there is no music playing anywhere. There isn't even conversation, we are simply sitting on the couch reading. Silence is a rare, sweet thing in this noisy world.

Winter and the Wood Stove

2010-01-02T17:47:00.000-08:00

I am sitting on the couch along the outside wall of our living room. The wind is shaking the house and jets of frigid air are squirting in through all the places where the weather stripping came loose and I didn't bother to fix it. The wood stove is glowing and the room is a strange mixture of hot and cold. All the rooms that are beyond the reach of the wood stove are frosty. The last gust caused a wide variety of objects on the deck to go flying. The snow shovel, neatly leaning on the outside wall is now tangled up in the wood pile. The plastic trash can, used to keep kindling dry, is blown over and the lid smashed against the deck railing so hard that it shattered. The tarp that covers the wood pile is snapping violently trying to rip free from the heavy logs that hold it in place. The stronger gusts even try to reach down the chimney and blow the smoke back into the house. The cold seems to be doing everything it can to snuff out the warm glow of the wood stove. It hasn't found a way to move the heavy cast iron stove nor overcome the strong updraft of the chimney, so it attacks everything in reach. The kindling, the wood pile, even the tarp. And yet the wood stove glows on unconcerned and I sit along an outside wall mere inches from a wild winter night warm and comfortable. It may be messy and a lot of work, but nothing beats a wood stove on a night like this.

Vermont Pictures

2010-01-01T11:14:00.001-08:00

Aliens Have Landed

2009-12-19T12:25:00.001-08:00

And they are making a feeble attempt to disguise themselves as a gas grill.

(14" and counting)

Venus

2009-11-24T19:43:00.000-08:00

I am in the very unusual position of loving my job. I try to never take that for granted. When I think of the many ways that I could be earning a living and how many of them are boring, grueling or simply meaningless, I am filled with gratitude for my job. I believe work is meaningful because it is work and I spent a few years working some jobs that were only significant because they helped me fulfill my call to care for my family - and that was enough. I always maintained that a content man can be content doing anything and I had to prove that for a few years in a job that I started out hating, learned to make the best of, and eventually was very successful in. Then I was able to get a position at NASA working with some of the most creative and brilliant engineers and scientists in the country. It is the amazing gift of a job that provides for my family and is a blast at the same time.

I have spent the last three weeks immersed in Venus - working on a lander concept. It has been one of the most intense and exhilarating three weeks of work that I can remember. I had worked on one or two Venus missions many years ago, but nothing like this one. Part of the joy is how crazy the ideas are, how impossible it seemed when we started and how feasible it looks now. Venus is very close to what people picture when they think about Hell. It is about 870 degrees on the surface with a thick soupy atmosphere of sulfuric acid and other extremely nasty things. When our satellite enters the atmosphere it experiences over 160 g's during the deceleration. That means that a little 10 pound box weighs 1600 pounds. I have to design the structure to hold all this stuff under those conditions. Then our lander slams into the ground at about 10 meters per second (a world class sprinter running into a wall is about that speed). Then it frantically grabs data (for less than 10 minutes) while it being fried in the scalding heat, drowns in acid and is crushed by the heavy atmosphere. Then we want to take off again and move about 5 miles and land again. It is insanity, but insanely fun to design.

I never set out to do what I do. I just bumbled along, got a degree because I needed a career and wanted the discipline of a really hard major, seemingly stumbled into the job at NASA, all the while never sure what I was doing. I never had a master plan, never thought more than a few weeks ahead, never took tests to determine what I should do with my life, never really did any of the things that successful people do to land their dream jobs. I had a shepherd who was nudging a clueless sheep into a very green pasture. And I'm designing a satellite to land in Hell. There is some strange analogy in that, but I can't quite make it out.

Nor'Easter

2009-10-20T11:38:00.000-07:00

The forecast was for temperatures in the lower 40's, gale force winds, violent surf, and the development of a Nor'Easter. It seemed like a great time to go to the beach. We survived our weekend away at the Jersey Shore where not only one Nor'Easter formed, but two. The time away was wonderful since we had an oceanfront room overlooking a rabid sea and the hotel was one of the spots of the island that didn't flood. I was attempting to describe our vacation to a co-worker who was beside himself with laughter. Despite my best attempts, I had little success convincing him that it was a great weekend away.

As we drove onto the island we knew that things were not going to be "normal" as most of the main avenue was underwater and almost all of the shops and restaurants were in survival mode. That really isn't accurate. Most of the shops where in "business as usual mode" but us land-lubbers felt like it was survival mode. The islanders acted as if Barnegat bay, flooding over Long Beach Island was an everyday occurrence. Apparently it is common enough not to generate much excitement. We were not sure if we were going to make it to our hotel, but finally arrived in the torrential rains and hurried our things into our room. Unfortunately we arrived after dark and couldn't really see the surf, but we could feel it. We went to sleep the first night with the wind screeching and the thundering surf seeming to be chewing its way through the dunes toward our hotel.

The next morning we were able to explore a bit between the squalls and discovered that the feeling of the sea eating the dunes was not far from the truth. The entire length of the beach looked like a miniature of the White Cliffs of Dover.

It was difficult even getting down to the beach since the access paths were washed into shear drops. The beach was very small and that which was left was covered in debris - mostly dune fence parts.

I won't go into too long of details, but we hunkered down for a long storm and simply lounged in our hotel room, watched the sea, read, wrote, watched the weather channel, a few movies and relaxed.

We did a surprising amount of exploring even in the middle of the gale. Getting around wasn't easy since everything on the bay side of the island was in some state of flood. We had to find food for one thing since the hotel restaurant had prices that made the gale seem calm. At one point I waded the van through the 1-2 foot flooding around the grocery store and up onto the sidewalk trying to find a place to land Diane the girls. They still had to resort to pulling off shoes and socks, rolling up pants and wading into the frigid water simply to make it to the front door. After that stunt, the manager opened up the back loading dock for getting customers in and out.

On Monday morning the storm finally abated enough to get the the beach. The cold wind had dropped and it was simply cold. We drive up to Barneget Light to get out and about and got a stunning view of the entire island, with the cold Canadian air allowing remarkable visibility.

The sea calmed down and we were finally able to take long walks on the beach. Here are some random pictures from our various walks.

We were greeted with a glorious sunrise this morning, but couldn't linger to enjoy the balmy day. As might have been predicted from anyone who is familiar with our travel adventures, the flawless weather returned just about the time we drove off the island heading back home. That being said, it was a delicious time away and we are planning another one sometime in the dead of winter. Maybe we'll manage to get ourselves a blizzard for that one!

Not Delayed in Boston

2009-10-10T16:25:00.000-07:00

I got automated email from JetBlue last Sunday that my flight to Boston was delayed. On Friday, I got automated email from JetBlue that my flight was delayed returning from Boston. Gratefully I was not on any JetBlue flight this week as my trip to Boston was completely canceled. So did not have to deal with being delayed. I love being home getting email that the flight that I am not on is delayed. It is a horrible attitude since it is packed with people who are on the flight and who are delayed. It is the same attitude that spurs me to watch the news on the night before Thanksgiving to see all the traffic that I am not in.

It is interesting to note that I have four experiences with JetBlue. One actual trip to Florida and this past canceled trip to Boston. Three of the four trips, the JetBlue flight was delayed. 25% is not a commendable on-time percentage. Next trip I will ask for Southwest which, in my limited flying experience, has usually been on-time.

Not in Boston

2009-10-04T19:25:00.000-07:00

Right now I was supposed to be turning out the light in my hotel room in Boston so that I would wake up refreshed and ready for the first day of my week long class tomorrow. I am home instead. I arrived at the airport to discover that my travel orders were messed up and my tickets, although reserved, had not been paid for. I am dedicated worker, but not so dedicated that I would risk not being reimbursed by paying for them myself. So I turned around and came home.

I do not travel often so my good-bye was a grandiose event with much hugging and kissing. It was a great send-off. And three hours later I was back. Tomorrow I will begin the process of trying to unravel the travel order mess and may end up on a plane to Boston tomorrow night, in the mean time it was great to be walking into the house this evening. It had all the joy of a homecoming without any of the headaches of traveling. Maybe I should pack and leave for a pretend trip more often just to have the joy of not going anywhere.

For some reason all evening a line from a Veggie Tales song has been in my head - from the Pirates Who Don't Do Anything...

"...and I've never been to Boston in the fall!"

Carried to the North

2009-08-22T14:47:00.000-07:00

We just returned from an extended trip to the North. It was a vacation that resulted from the kindness of an amazing crowd of people. The Cunninghams generously offered us the use of their cabin on Lake George, NY and then arranged for a remarkably large number of people to pitch in to help cover our expenses. The result was a long trip as delineated below. The intention of the trip was for us as a family to be away together, away from the busyness of life, to recover, heal and grieve after a year marked with great sadness. The death of my father in April followed by the death of our son Reid this past July has made this a year unlike anything we have ever experienced. The Cunninghams and their many cohorts offered us this trip as a way to simply be together. Since the cabin has no TV, Internet or cell service, it was a good location to become cut off from the noise of the world and be together as a family. Below is a description of our trip and a few pictures that hopefully capture the beauty of where we went.

In an attempt to avoid the stress of the crazy drive North, we decided to do the trip up in two legs. The first leg was to Dingman Falls, PA. We wanted to visit both Dingman falls and Child's Park which Diane had visited as a child. The photos of those places are still in Erin's camera so I'll upload them next time she visits. Both places were beautiful beyond description. Dingman Falls was like visiting the National Gallery of Art, except it was all God's handiwork. The lush beauty of the place had us speaking in whispers and the delicate beauty of Silver Thread Falls and the stunning power of Dingman Falls were art to perfection. There was a long set of stairs that climbed to the top of Dingman Falls. Along the way was the place of Faeries. A wide stair step cascade of white water shot into a moss covered narrow. It was dwarfed by the nearby thunder of Dingman Falls, but had a beauty that seemed unreal.

The next day we headed up to Vermont to visit Diane's parents and had another chance to stop by Reid's grave and add a few more touches. We placed a small stone turtle by his boulder and a small pile of sea shells. The plaque is not finished yet, but when that comes in we will add that to complete the memorial. That small spot in the mountains of Vermont has become more precious than I ever imagined.

On Saturday 8/15, we headed over to Oxford Cottages on Lake George. I must confess I had a preconceived idea of what lakes were like based on my experiences over the years and I wasn't prepared for what we found. Lake George has the clearest water I have ever seen. The massive lake, with the towering mountains all around was more beautiful that my wildest imagination. But the clarity, transparency and purity of the water struck me every time I stepped outside. As a result of that (and the freakish heat that week) we spent most of our time outside.

The cabin where we stayed (Overbank) was very rustic. The water from the lake was pumped into the house for showers and sinks. It was a simple cabin with a single bedroom, kitchen and dining area and a porch with a view that was stunning. I had brought a lot of material for reading and writing but I ended up staring for hours on end out over the water. The constantly changing sky, the numerous boats racing or drifting by, the cloud shadows on the distant shore mountains all created a show that overshadowed any other activity.

We did what most do at a place like this, we swam, canoed, canoed some more, ate, swam some more, read, prayed, wrote, ate, played boardgames, ate at restaurants (we really liked Fredericks in Bolton Landing and Eddie's Restaurant up toward Ticonderoga), slept (somewhat), reminisced, watched the stars, saw Jupiter rising in the East, counted satellites, ate, walked, and ate. We were right down the street from the Silver Bay YMCA facility which has been around since the late 1800's. It was a beautiful place for a walk. We took a side trip up to Fair Haven VT to have lunch at the Fair Haven Inn with Diane's parents in the middle of the week. As always, a restaurant run by Greeks is almost a guarantee of great food. Once again this stereotype held true. We also took a side trip up to Middlebury VT to see that quaint college town and came back across the Ticonderoga Ferry. The drive up Route 30 in Vermont and then Route 74 was some of the most beautiful scenery we've ever encountered.

We left a day early due to some commitments this weekend but had an unusually easy drive down the New York State Thruway and the New Jersey Turnpike. It was a very meaningful time away - primarily because we knew the love that was carrying us up there and back. We continue to be amazed in this year that has been so filled with sadness, we could experience so much of God's goodness. It has been poured out in overwhelming quantities through our many friends and family. We are a blessed family.

Below is a slide show of some of the scenes around Lake George that we enjoyed this past week:

Lake George Trip

Silence

2009-07-17T07:02:00.000-07:00

I just realized that I have not posted here for a while. That is because our son, Reid, to whom the book Five Miles from Home is dedicated, has passed from this life and is now delightfully celebrating in the presence of his loving, heavenly Father. Over the past few weeks our attention has been on him. His battle with pneumonia and his passing were posted on his blog so that our friends and his fans could be praying. We will probably post some of the many, amazing tributes there as well: http://reidupdates.blogspot.com/

Trials and Pleasant Reading

2009-07-07T18:15:00.000-07:00

I don't know of anyone who doesn't have trials and yet I feel like the world is filled with people like that. I think this illusion originates in pleasant reading. I sat in the ER all day as Reid struggled to get air past his pneumonia into his lungs. Much of the time doctors, nurses and various technicians were coming and going and looking at him. I spent a lot of time looking at him as well and waiting. I waited for his O2 numbers to climb back up, for his gasping breaths to ease, for his groaning to stop. Between all the activity, I killed time and numbed my mind and emotions by pleasant reading.

I read about a couple sailing around the Chesapeake Bay visiting all the historic sites. I read about a man growing up on the Bay near a remote beach, swimming and boating with his family. I read about a couple visiting Londontown on the South River and wandering the beautiful gardens. None of these people ever sat in an ER, couldn't pay bills, or experienced tragedy - at least that is what it feels like reading their pleasant stories. I'm sure they all have had lives filled with heartache and trial and tragedy. From what I've seen, the number of people who have gone through life with no major trials is infinitesimally small. The chance that there would be multiple people who have not had trials all writing an article for the same issue of a magazine is also infinitesimally small.

That is why pleasant reading is so bittersweet to read in an ER. All around are the suffering and yet those in the pages of the magazine have no suffering. I don't like to read about suffering or tragedy. I hate sad, depressing books. Don't get me started on Dickens. When I read, I want to escape into a pleasant world filled with people who do pleasant things and can laugh at their trials because they are now wonderful tales and yarns. It is a world that will only exist in heaven and that is probably why I long for it. C. S. Lewis contends that our innate human longings are longings for heaven. I'm grateful for some pleasant reading at the ER for it reminds me to long for what will ultimately be fulfilled in a world where the wreckage of humanities rebellion against our creator will be wiped away and all that is good, that we long for, will be ours.

Waving Goodbye

2009-06-22T18:28:00.000-07:00

I don't have a Facebook presence, for which my daughter thanks me regularly. I also don't have a twitter account. I never had a MySpace when that was all the rage. The on-line world is moving on and I'm watching it pull away. I may end up joining back into the virtual world's latest craze at some point, but right now I'm inclined to simply wave goodbye. I don't like the way that the virtual world can make you feel like you've done something, when you really haven't.

I see this in many ways in my life, but a simple example is Realtor.com. I love snooping around on real-estate websites. I like searching for acreage and have a odd habit of picking obscure towns in the middle of South Dakota to see what is for sale. I can spend hours wandering around the country checking out some of the amazing properties that are available in locations that seem too good to be true. And yet, I haven't bought a house in 15 years. I have no need of a house and I really like the house that I have (except for the plumbing). I haven't done anything when I'm wandering around in the virtual world of real estate - but I feel like I have.

The most troubling part is the way the virtual world begins to impinge on the real world. I find that when we go out with another couple, I have an urge to talk about the various houses I've found on-line. My conversation is about something that isn't real. My virtual folly has turned into my virtual conversations. Even my conversation is about nothing real. Then I post a blog on a virtual site about my virtual convictions about my virtual life. I think I'm getting a real headache. So, I'll let the virtual world race on ahead for a while. It will give me time to consider whether it is worth trying to catch up and maybe free up some time to find that 10-15 acre waterfront property within a 20 mile radius of some obscure town in South Dakota.

A Real Review

2009-06-18T20:28:00.000-07:00

Five Miles From Home was reviewed on the Library Journal Booksmack newsletter. And it got a great write-up. Check it out:

http://www.libraryjournal.com/article/CA6659462.html

I shamelessly take back what I said about not starting your research at the library!

Business

2009-06-09T18:03:00.000-07:00

I always find it surprising when a business appears to deliberately offend a segment of potential customers and yet that happens so often that it doesn't seem to be an accident.

There was a recent stink about Burger Kings in Texas with a "Global warming is baloney" sign. Given how passionately people feel about that topic, they are clearly choosing to offend a large portion of their potential customers.
Today I ate lunch a place called "Cluck-U." I was in a lunch rut and wanted to try something new, but wasn't sure I wanted to give my business to a place with a name like that. I did and was very pleasantly surprised. The food was excellent, but the customer service was better than I've seen in restaurants that charge 3-4 times as much. And yet, they chose a name that is likely to offend and I thought about it for a while before deciding I would not be offended and give it a try. I'm sure many others are not so open to given them the benefit of the doubt.
I remember seeing the semi's pulling the Guaranteed Overnight Delivery (GOD) trucks. They were deliberately offending a segment of potential customers. They went out of business in October of 2008. I can't imagine they were that dull as to think that everyone would find that name clever. I can't imagine they could afford to lose the customers who were offended. I certainly would never ship anything with them.
Last year Chesapeake Bay Magazine put a woman clad in a rather small bathing suit on their front cover. It was a big surprise since it is a magazine primarily staffed by women and had always been one of the only boating magazines that was safe for those who are fans of modesty. There were a lot of offended people who sent in offended letters. The cover didn't surprise me as much as the editorial in the following issue where the editor mocked those who were offended. A sizable portion of the magazine's customer base had been offended. He then proceeded to make fun of those who were offended, dividing his paying costumers into two halves - us and them - and mocking them. It is a small magazine that doesn't seem like it can afford to do that.
The biggest offender is Hollywood. It is so bad with them that Michael Medved wrote a book about it called Hollywood Verses America. They revel in offending even being willing to take significant losses.

It is a fascinating and disturbing phenomenon. I am no business person but it has never made sense to me. I can't imagine there is such an infinite supply of customers, in any business, that a business owner can deliberately chose to offend a group. Maybe they are so successful that money is no object. If so, maybe I need to go into business - I'm really good at offending people.

Bumper Stickers

2009-05-26T18:36:00.000-07:00

Someday I may go into the bumper sticker business and trinket business. If I do, I will sell bumper stickers that say:

I'd Rather Be Content

Rocket Science isn't Brain Surgery

And I'd like to sell a sign for gardens that reads:

"Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands..." (Paul the Apostle)

Awakening and Doing

2009-05-23T20:16:00.000-07:00

I have spent more and more time doing and less and less time watching over the past few months. Those who are used to having an instantaneous answer to an Email are probably stunned at the silence. Entire days go by where I am not on the computer until the few moments before bed (I still need just one last check of the email). Instead I'm outside riding with Vicky on her tandem or planting bush beans or walking around the yard with Diane talking about future projects or sitting in the peach tree island pulling up all the little maple trees that sprouted in my failed attempt at homemade mulch.

Part of my inspiration is my neighbor. He also works on computers most of the day, as I do, but the moment he is home, he is outside. I asked him about it once and he said that he stares at a monitor all day and that is the last thing he wants to do at home. Over the years I have been amazed watching his family live life outside. Both kids, both parents and whoever is with them are busy playing and working outside in all be the most inhospitable weather. Their home is magnet for neighborhood kids and adults to stop by for a visit because they are simply accessible. I deeply respect that lifestyle and have slowly been adopting aspects of it.

The other part of the change is choice. I have purposefully changed my interests. When my primary outdoor activity was sailing, something that rarely occurred more than once a month, all other outdoor activities were simply not sailing. As mentioned in earlier posts, I've decided to develop my interests in those things closer to home. Family activities, yard work, fixing the countless broken things in my home. The things that interest me are must a few steps out the front door. Although the change in my lifestyle has taken years, I've noticed a tipping point the past few months. Each spring the draw of the outdoors is strong, but this year it has dramatically increased. I've stopped watching life outside, and have moved outside to live it myself. It is like waking up from a long drowsy sleep.

Broken

2009-05-15T16:18:00.000-07:00

My home is filled with broken things. I came in from mowing the lawn this afternoon to get a drink of water and the water filter that hangs off our sink faucet began to leak and dropped off. Which isn't surprising since the faucet itself leaked for a year and was just replaced. Which isn't surprising since the sink leaked until I plugged the little hole that somehow got poked through the stainless steel. Which isn't particularly stainless since it is rusting slightly in a large number of places. Which really doesn't matter since the cabinet is sits in has a lot of water damage so the floor is rotted through. Which I replaced with old stick-on tile which was left over from replacing the rotten kitchen floor. Which sits over the crawl space that is filled with all that collapsing insulation that is supposed to be stuffed into the kitchen floor joists. Which tends to knock the duct work down when it falls, opening the kitchen A/C vents to the damp crawl space air. Which is damp because of the water that leaks through the corners of the cinder block wall and pools in feted, muddy puddles. Which was caused by the lack of gutters that were missing for years. Which we took off because of the rotted roof and siding. Which is just one of a countless number of things that were, or are, broken.

When the filter came off in my hands this afternoon I reacted with sinful anger. I couldn't believe another thing broke. I had taken the last two days off work simply to fix broken things. The brakes in both cars needed to be replaced. The drywall in two rooms is half way repaired after the pipe broke. I couldn't believe another thing broke. So I went outside and wandered around the yard looking at all the landscaping problems that needed to be fixed, the dead and dieing trees and shrubs, the pile of old logs that need to go to the dump, etc. And I began to quiz myself about my anger and realized that I had the irrational expectation that things should work.

Expecting things to work is upside down. Everything is broken in this world. It is a biblical principle that is so blatantly obvious that there is even a law of physics to name it - the law of Entropy. Entropy is the level of disorder and every closed system's entropy increases unless energy is added to the system. To expect anything to not be broken is simply irrational. Everything is broken in both the world of machines and humans. Computers are broken, government is broken, toilets are broken, families are broken, weed-whackers are broken, the environment is broken, disc brakes are broken, hearts are broken.

I shouldn't be angry when something is broken. Broken is it's natural state. I should be astonished when something works. When I put the bread down into the toaster and toasted bread actually pops up and it isn't on fire - I should be amazed. The toaster working is a violation of the laws of physics and is a miraculous gift from God. When I reconcile with a friend after a conflict - I should see it in the same category as Jesus walking on the water: How can that be? When I repent of sinful anger and experience God's forgiveness and my heart return to a place of peace, I should be keenly aware that what occurred was completely supernatural. Seeing the world for what it is, all broken, opens my eyes to seeing God's generous kindness to humanity when things actually work - and it brings my expectations into line with reality.

The Great Race

2009-05-12T05:29:00.000-07:00

This past Saturday was our church school's annual 5K race. It was a large turnout with the fastest runner completing in something over 19 minutes. Although he was across the finish line in amazing time, his triumph was dwarfed by my daughter Vicky. She came across the line an hour and 20 minutes after the start of the race at the very last position. The guy announcing the race didn't even know she was still going, had the group of spectators cheer for the final runners while she was still out of sight, and moved the spectators on to another event. She crossed the line to the clapping of a couple of the helpers who were getting set to take things down. It was an accomplishment of staggering proportions.

For the past few years she has been so sick that a walk across the backyard was exhausting. She spent much of her high school asleep - sometimes 16 hours per day - and when she was awake she could barely move from the couch. Less than a year ago we were having serious talks with her about having to face the possibility that what she was experiencing could be what her life was going to be like. She may have to find a way to function in the midst of it.

After numerous tests there were many possible explanations, but they were all pieces of a bigger picture. The two things we knew conclusively were that she had Lyme - and all 10 indicators on the tests, something most of the doctors had never seen before - and Grave's disease. The Grave's disease was brought under control by a cocktail of various prescriptions. She had been diagnosed years earlier with the Lyme and had the standard CDC Lyme treatment and the specialists at Children's Hospital pronounced with complete confidence that she must be cured because that 3 week antibiotic was all that was needed to fix Lyme.

We finally stepped outside the CDC straight and narrow path and took her to a specialist who was willing to treat risk lawsuits and being labeled a quack and treat "chronic Lyme." He blasted her system with mountains of antibiotics over a long period of time and the results were stunning. It would be easy for me to blame the CDC, and the various doctors that act as their consultants to define their Lyme regime, for the lost years of Vicky's life, but I don't live in a Godless, happenstance world. I live in a world where a sovereign God weaves all the evil caused by humanity's rebellion into good for those who are his own.

Who Vicky is now, and who she will be as she moves into adulthood, has been shaped by those years of suffering. I would never wish it upon her and would do everything in my power to alleviate her suffering, but I have already seen some of the good that God has created using the chisel of her trail. One small example was her walking 5,000 meters in a race on Saturday. Despite almost complete exhaustion after the first 2.5k she pushed on, slow and steady, all the way to the end. She has learned to live above how she feels, to do what is right rather than what feels good, and accomplish the tasks that are set before her with a tenacity that is inspiring. I have never been so proud of the last place finisher in a race. And not only because it was something that seemed impossible just a year ago, but because it showed how much God has already done for her good using these long years of sickness. Vicky - although there was not a crowd to cheer you across the line last Saturday, I believe there was a joyful shout in heaven of, "Well done!"

"Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." Phil 3:12-14

Learning to Like

2009-05-07T17:25:00.000-07:00

It was a small transition day in my life. Today I took another step to like what I have and not what I don't have. It arrived in the mail and is called "Family Handyman" magazine. It is significant for what didn't arrive in the mail, "Chesapeake Bay Magazine." I have subscribed to Chesapeake Bay Magazine for years and have even had four articles published in it. I love the magazine and read it whenever I have a spare minute. The problem is that it is filled with what I don't have. I don't have a Bayliner Cierra 2452 or a Bristol 26 sailboat or any other boat (well I have a sailing dinghy, but it is just a lake boat - I wouldn't want to take it out on the bay). I don't have waterfront property with a long dock and stunning sunset views. I don't have enough space in my budget to eat crab cakes at waterfront restaurants or wander around the quaint shops in Saint Michael's. And I certainly don't have the time to spend the summer exploring all the gunk holes and remote anchorages described by the cruise of the month. But I do have a house filled with things that need to be fixed.

And so my subscription to Chesapeake Bay magazine expires this month and my subscription to Family Handyman begins this month. I am attempting to foster a love of tinkering around the house, fixing things, making things nice and other activities that will be a blessing to my family - which I have. I am attempting to starve a love of standing at the helm of my yacht bringing her to the restaurant dock at sunset for an evening of very expensive crab cakes - which I don't have. It seems like life is a lot simplier by learning to like what you have.

Insomnia Pays

2009-05-04T17:13:00.000-07:00

As my mind raced along, the clock steadily turned from 1 AM to 2 AM to 3 AM and later. I don't normally have insomnia but for whatever chemical harmonic that came about from antihistamines and Pepsi and who knows what else, I tossed about in bed with my mind racing. I would like to be able to report that it solved major world problems like hunger, war or hemorrhoid cream ads, but it did not. For whatever reason I was figuring out ways to measure the height and diameter of the maple tree in our front yard. I was also devising ways of mapping the elevation of my yard using a laser pointer. At one point I got up and went to the computer to the USGS website to see if I could download elevation information for my yard. I couldn't figure out how to do it without having to pay for it.

In all this churning of thought one idea made it through to the morning that is worth keeping. I have wanted to try out paths in my yard. A walking trail that meanders from the driveway, between some dogwoods, around the back of the cherry tree, past the hamock and back out into the front yard. I have thought it would make a nice backbone for eventual landscaping by creating destinations along the way - little sitting areas - that would turn my 1/2 acre into a lush paradise. The problem is that I am too cheap to buy the bricks or gravel or whatever to make the path. Sometime in the middle of this morning, between measuring maple trees and calculating elevations, the answer struck me.

I normally mow my lawn at 3" height in strick obediance to the guru's on This Old House. When I'm done, I'm going to set the mower down to 1.5" and mow my path. It costs me nothing and if I don't like it, it will grow back within a week. That probably saved me $1000 in crushed gravel and months of hard work, assuming of course that I would actually ever do it. If It works, and it looks nice, I will post some pictures and maybe leave my house to a foundation as a public garden for generations to enjoy. Sometimes a night without sleep is worth its weight in gold.

(Image from: http://rockymountainnationalpark.com/)

The Normalcy of Saying Goodbye

2009-04-22T16:11:00.000-07:00

On Saturday night, April 4th I said goodbye to my parents after an evening of small talk, computer repairs, instructions on how to use the lawn tractor and general normalcy. 12 hours later I discovered that it was my final good-bye to my dad. He passed away Sunday morning. I had made a point to be over there the previous 2 weeks after he had a stroke, heart attack and was diagnosed with cancer. Those 2 weeks, and the 4 days preceding that I spent with him in the hospital were golden and I am so grateful that God allowed that time to be normal and together.

As pointed out to me by Diane last night, it was also the time that I really grieved. I would return home from visiting very conscious that he only had a little time left (although hoping he would have more). Although at that point he wasn't gone yet, he was going and I felt the freedom to grieve knowing it was around the corner. Those visits were simple and normal; chit-chat and hanging around - but then again they were not normal. They also included instructions about things I would need to take care of after his death. Saturday night, the night before he died, he really wanted to explain to me in detail how to use his lawn tractor.

After he died my nephew Jeremiah came over and unloaded some footage from his video camera onto my computer. He had my dad's 80th birthday party on there from a few years ago. He was vibrant, laughing, and the way I want to remember him. Below is a doctored photo that I made for his birthday card for that party. It is him in front of the lawn tractor that he really wanted and one that he probably wished to be explaining how to use that last Saturday night.

The Inner Harbor

2009-03-27T19:55:00.001-07:00

Our dear friends, the Cowans, took us out to dinner tonight at Baltimore's Inner Harbor. The Chesapeake Bay is trying to shake off winter so the Harbor wasn't up to its usually warm-weather vivacity, but the marinas were full of boats and the view was stunning as always. We had a magnificent dinner and then walked over to the Eatery and bought dessert from an Italian pastry shop. The portions selected were irrationally large and we all intended on bringing home enough to last 3-4 more desserts. Unfortunately it all tasted so good that we ate all 4,324,253,123 calories worth of pastry. Well, all except Mrs. Cowan who managed to stop. It may have taken a few years off our life span, but it seems like it was probably worth it.

I don't remember the last time we have been to the Inner Harbor, but it is always a treat. The effects of the economy were visible with some of the Eatry shops closed down. But the line a Phillip's Crab House showed that there were still plenty of customers to go around if you have the right product.

Thank you friends for a wonderful evening...

A Body in the Road

2009-03-24T21:31:00.000-07:00

Its not the kind of thing that you ever expect to really happen despite the fact that you've seen it 100's of times on TV. I turned the corner onto the country street heading toward our neighborhood tonight and my headlights swept over a body lying on the edge of the road. It was in the middle of nowhere between 2 cornfields a good 1/2 mile from any house. He was on our little farm road just a 50 feet from the main road. At first I didn't recognize what it was but as I rolled past him by my mind finally made the connection. That was a human lying on his back on the road in the pitch dark. My heart rate doubled as I looked for some place to turn around. The road is barely two lanes and there is no turn off. I finally got spun about and drove back dialing 911 with shaking hands. As the 911 call began to ring I prayed, "Lord, please don't let him be dead. Don't let me find a dead body on the side of the road." I pulled up beside him and yelled, "Buddy, are you okay?"

To my great relief he began to move and groan. I heard in the distance the sound of sirens. I was not the first to call. Suddenly, my relief was subdued as he staggered to his feet and began to yell obscenities at me and yell at me not to call 911. I hit the gas as he lurched back and forth obviously attempting to head toward my car in his spinning, drunken world. I turned the corner and looked again for another place to turn around. By then the 911 operator finally answered and the firetrucks and ambulances raced by. The operator told me they already had a call about the guy. I pulled over and watched as they drove right past him. I told the operator and he said, "They've got it covered." In other words, mind my own business.

I pulled out to finish turning around when a fireman in a pickup truck stopped me. "Did you see an incident over there." I explained what I saw. He said they couldn't find the guy. I drove slowly back looking across the black fields for him along with the firetrucks and ambulance that swept their spotlights. He was obviously very drunk or high or something and was not happy to be disturbed from his roadside nap. I was glad he wasn't dead. I also wondered why I called him, "Buddy."

We kept the doors locked tonight, although in his condition I doubt he could walk more than a few yards. I also worried he would pass out again in the field and not be found until morning. He was only wearing a sweatshirt and it is going to be in the 30's tonight. At home I told my daughter about it and that I wasn't scared but felt sad for the man. What must his life be if he ends up passed out on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. She wanted us to pray for him and we did. I prayed that he would not be found, frozen in the field tomorrow morning. My daughter was more insightful, she prayed that God would rescue him from such a sad life.

Amen.

Epic Odyssey for Friendship

2009-03-15T18:10:00.000-07:00

The epic attempt to make it to Panama and visit her friend continues. Despite spending all day negotiating, fighting, cajoling, pleading, appealing, and lots and lots of waiting, she still sits at Atlanta airport. The Air transportation system is broken very badly. The backlog of passengers trying to get to Panama grows, the flights are completely overwhelmed and yet the airline doesn't add another plane to the mix to clear out the mess. 22 people were in line for standby on the only flight to Panama. Erin and Christy were numbers 7 & 8 and they didn't make it on. All the other flights in all the other carriers were booked solid. Another night in Atlanta. She is going to try standby again tomorrow which means another day spent in Atlanta airport waiting. The first guaranteed flight out is Tuesday night. Friendship can be a very costly thing.

Travel Joys

2009-03-14T16:48:00.001-07:00

She is supposed to be landing in Panama in a few hours. I have no idea if she is or if she is sitting in the Atlanta Airport. I drove her to Dulles and dropped her off around noon. On the way there she got a text message that her flight was delayed by almost 1.5 hours. When I got home, I found out she was in a cab on her way to Reagan National. Since her delayed flight would prevent her from making her connection to Panama they sent her to Reagan to catch another flight. By the time she arrived that flight was delayed by almost an hour and a half. She landed long after her flight to Panama left. I don't know if she managed to get on another plane or what.

She's loving it. I'm to the point where I don't even want to know what is going on.

Once in a Lifetime

2009-03-11T20:23:00.000-07:00

It is rare when you have an event that you can truly classify as a once in a lifetime event. Tonight was such a night for my family and we are still feeling the effects. Tonight we bought carry-out Chinese food from a restaurant in Damascus. After the meal we agreed that it was within the top one or two worst meals we have every paid money for. It started with a bite of the brown, greasy, limp, lump of dough called a "Spring Roll" in the menu. It was so bad that even the knowledge that I had paid real money for it was not enough to stop me from setting it down. It went downhill from there. We almost spit the Hot and Sour soup across the table. It ended up down the garbage disposal. We all slid the indefinite lumps of meat type products in the various dishes hoping to find some glimmer of good taste - but it was futile. It pretty much all ended up in the trash and for someone as cheap as me, that takes a spectacular level of horribleness.

Afterward, as we discussed our varying levels of nausea and drank anything we could to kill the taste in our mouths, we realized that there had been only one or two other times when we had food that bad. It was a rare and memorable event.

Finally

2009-03-02T14:54:00.000-08:00

We spent all winter with it feeling like it was almost Spring. Now we are almost to Spring and winter arrives. Better late than never...

It's a Long Story

2009-03-01T12:54:00.000-08:00

Strange Calculations...

Jacksonville Florida is 874.3 square miles
Population of the world is 6,763,799,680
A person average size takes up around 2 square feet
874.3 (square miles) = 24,374,085,120 square feet
There is enough room and Jacksonville FL for 12,187,042,560 people

How many Porto-Potty's would that need...

Fiction Family

2009-02-27T18:40:00.000-08:00

Jon Foreman of Switchfoot has teamed up Sean Watkins are produced my new favorite song:

Idols

2009-02-27T05:08:00.000-08:00

When the Philistines captured the ark of God, they brought it from Ebenezer to Ashdod. Then the Philistines took the ark of God and brought it into the house of Dagon and set it up beside Dagon. And when the people of Ashdod rose early the next day, behold, Dagon had fallen face downward on the ground before the ark of the LORD. So they took Dagon and put him back in his place. (1 Samuel 5:1-3)

I love this story. This captures my pathetic behavior toward the idols in my heart. I think it typifies how all humans deal with our idols in such an idiotic way. The line, “So they took Dagon and put him back in his place” is so painfully pathetic as to be hilarious and I laugh – because I see myself there. To take something so utterly worthless and dead that it can’t even pick itself up, put it back in its place and then turn around and worship it as a god seems like madness. It is a madness shared by all humanity. I flop down on the couch and watch some TV drivel and am thoroughly aware that I am squandering time, but I need to pay homage to my idol of leisure. Afterward it leaves a disgusting taste in my mouth, I am no more rested than I was when I started and I just wasted an hour of a very short life. My idol is flat on its face. Later in the week I put it back in its place and watch another hour of drivel. I could probably cite countless examples of this but the main point is, the Bible exposes the ugly human heart with astounding precision and the embarrassed laughter at our ridiculous behavior helps us see it for what it is, and hopefully change.

Contentment

2009-02-17T05:55:00.000-08:00

We are all trying our best to maintain a content heart after returning from the summer of Florida. It has taken days to adjust to winter again. Here is part of the reason returning is so challenging:

The sunrise from our hotel room window. This is all I saw of the ocean until Friday morning when my meetings ended. Every morning I was greeted with this and decided that if this was all I got, it would be well worth the trouble of flying down and enduring tedious meetings for a week.

This is the pool area. It was heated to somewhere in the mid-80's and despite a breeze coming from the ocean it was a delicious place to swim.

On Friday, before we flew home we wandered the beach admiring the shells. The beach was under construction (dune refurbishment), but the quantity and quality of shells was still astounding and beautiful. I would hope that this many shells reflects the abundance of sea life off shore and, correspondingly, the health of the ocean. I guess a pessimist would point out that the shells that washed up were all dead so it may not reflect the health of the ocean. I choose the optimistic view.

Weather Report

2009-02-13T20:15:00.000-08:00

In Melbourne Beach Florida this week it was in the upper 70's to lower 80's. This morning we took a swim and walked on the beach before finishing packing for the grueling process of getting on an airplane to fly home. We arrived home to winter. It was very much like waking up from a delightful dream only to discover that it was just a dream. We spent the week dreaming it was summer only to wake up to winter again.

The trip started off on a shaky step with a 3 hour flight delay. I dutifully made sure we made it there with the mandatory 2 hour buffer and was patting myself on the back when we discovered the line for security the entire length of the hallway into the concourse. Then we made it to the gate only to discover our plane was still in Miami being fixed. Although it was originally supposed to be an afternoon flight, we didn't get in until late Sunday night.

I was off before sunrise to spend the week with a contentious crowd of NASA engineers in a windowless conference room at Kennedy Space Center. Diane and the girls were trapped without a car at a very beautiful oceanfront hotel in Melbourne Beach. They didn't seem to be upset at the imprisonment. I was leaving before dawn and returning long after dark until today. Due to getting the work done Thursday evening, we didn't have to come in today and could make it a travel day. I woke up and finally saw the place for the first time in the sunlight. It was beautiful.

Florida is an odd collection of beautiful spots mixed in with a lot of very ugly, dilapidated, development. The hotel and ocean were beautiful. Much of the surrounding area was the same dismal strip mall blight that seems to fill A1A the entire length of the state. I found a delightful route from Melbourne Beach to Kennedy Space Center up the full length of route 3 (you can explore it here), but that was the exception. So in some ways it worked out well that the girls were trapped at the hotel, because it was about the most beautiful spot in the area. I really didn't know that until this morning when I finally saw it with the sun up.

So we are back home, tried but glad to have had 6 days in summer in the middle of winter. When I'm less exhausted I'll post a few pictures from the trip.

Amazing Oppurtunity

2009-02-06T19:11:00.000-08:00

I'm watching the weather forecast for Melbourne Beach Florida very carefully and I like what I see. We're going. Although I'll be sitting in meetings at Kennedy Space Center all week, Diane and the girls will be sitting on the beach in 75-80 degree weather all week. Hopefully I'll get some nice long evening walks on the beach after work. Sometimes being more than 5 miles from home isn't so bad.

Amazon

2009-02-04T18:31:00.000-08:00

We're finally on Amazon

Outdoors Maryland

2009-02-02T17:28:00.001-08:00

I have a love/hate relationship with TV. I love watching TV. I hate that I love watching TV. I love the brainlessness of it. I hate the brainlessness of it. I don't think I watch all that much TV because it bothers me so much whenever I do, and yet I'm sure I watch more than I think I do. I hate watching TV because I know that no matter what is on, there is always something more significant I could be doing. In the spectrum of significance, TV is pretty much always at the bottom. And yet I choose to watch it. To spend time doing something aware that there is always a better way I could be spending my time, and yet continuing to do it, is at best irrational.

And yet... there is one show that I watch without the least pang of guilt: Outdoors Maryland. It is the only TV show that I ever remember watching and taking notes. I record ever episode on our DVR and replay portions for my family. Tonight I watched an episode from earlier this week and made note about a dairy farm in Bel Air called Broom's Bloom Dairy that makes and sells it's own ice cream - some place to visit on a day trip. I also hear about the DNR's tales and scales program and noted that for our school. They also featured one of my favorite things, the covered bridges of Maryland. In particular they hit the 3 covered bridges that Erin and I did as part of the Frederick Covered Bridge tour. I made note that we need schedule a picnic at Loys Station Park. If TV were nothing but episodes of Outdoors Maryland, their would be a massive increase value of that little electronic box.

Here are some pictures of our covered bridge adventure a few years ago (and that we will hopefully repeat in the spring):

Restaurant Review

2009-01-25T14:39:00.000-08:00

Diane has posted a nice write-up of the Old Salty's on Hooper's Island:
http://www.fivemilesfromhome.com/diane.htm

Mr. Breakfast and other outing ideas

2009-01-20T21:01:00.000-08:00

Today was the inauguration of my new boss. Fortunately my old boss gave me the day off so that I would keep far away from downtown DC. I obliged and stayed happily comfortable at home. To make good use of the time, I decided to plan my dates and family outings for the year. It was a wonderful time of researching date ideas for my times with my wife and daughters. I started on family night planning in the evening, but didn't get far so that will have to wait until another time.

I try to have a date with each of my daughters and my wife each week. Due to my oldest's busy schedule, I can only get time with her every other week. I need the discipline of a schedule both to make sure it happens and to make sure I've spent some creative energy on our outings. I try to come up with stuff that they will enjoy, that is within our budget and fits the time of year. I pull out a variety of resources including the Entertainment Book, various On-Line event calenders and a new discovery today Mr. Breakfast

I would guess that a large number of the ideas that I schedule don't actually happen (the dates do, but the ideas get changed). Usually another idea presents itself or the original idea just doesn't work due to scheduling conflicts or we're simply to tired to drive all the way to wherever I planned. But having something on the books makes a huge difference. I also try to find a way to keep things within budget. Most dinning out is done at breakfast or lunch since the cost is much less. I also try to eat before we go out so that I can get by with just a little something but still treat them to a nice meal.

In past years my plans were extremely elaborate and I became increasingly irrational as my long stretch of planning dragged on. I would schedule outings an hour or more away from home on a weeknight or extravagant events that were simply beyond our means when the date arrived. I've tried to become more sensible, choosing ideas that are likely to actually happen. I've also realized that simply having an hour at a local Starbucks is all that is needed at times. My youngest daughter also doesn't like a lot of variety. She really enjoys going to the library and out for ice cream so I tried to add routine dates into the mix.

Here is a list of some of the date ideas. It will become obvious right away that this is not a particularly original set of ideas, but hopefully you'll find something here that will prompt some ideas of your own. Many of the ideas I schedule multiple times spread out through-out the year. Outside stuff is scheduled when I think the weather will cooperate:

Breakfast, Lunch or Dinner at:

Burger King in Damascus
California Tortilla in Olney
Moby Dicks in Olney
5 Guys in Olney
J&P Pizza in Damascus
Dempsy's in Aston
Hunan Best in Gaithersburg
Mountain View Dinner in Frederick
Rio Marriott
Barbara Fritchees in Frederick
Corner Bakery at Rio Town Center
The Original Pancake House in Rockville
Dennys

Coffee at:

A hole in the wall coffee shop near Hood College in Frederick
Chesapeake Bagel Bakery in Olney
Pistachios in Laytonsville
Starbucks all over
Dunkin Donuts (and maybe a donut) in Olney
Music Cafe in Damscus
Cafe Mileto in Germantown

Bagels or Donuts at:

Panera Bread in Olney
Doughboys in Kentlands
Krispy Kreme in Rockville
Royal Bagel in Germantown

Ice Cream at:

McDonald's
Ritas in Olney or Frederick
Jimmy Cone in Damascus or Mount Airy

Hike or Walk around:

Savage Mill Mall in Savage
Rio Center in Gaithersburg
Picnic and Hike on C&O Canal
Columbia Mall
Rachel Carson Wildlife Refuge
Hike the Magruder trail
Hike the Kingsly Schoolhouse trail
Hike Little Bennett trails
Hike Cunningham Falls
Hike Monocacy Battlefield

Misc Outings:

Driving Range
Ice Skating
Annapolis
Early Music Consort Concert at Hood
Canoing at Triadelphia Lake
Rock Climbing at Earth Works
Frederick Covered Bridge Drive
Visit Edger Allen Poe's grave in Baltimore

Cover Photo Story

2009-01-19T19:16:00.000-08:00

I've had a few comments about the cover photo of Five Miles from Home along the lines of, "That doesn't look five miles from home to me." It is not. But it was taken as part of an adventure as I was first experimenting with exploring the world nearby and developing the idea of Five Miles from Home. One unexpectedly warm afternoon in January of 2006, as I was becoming increasingly excited about exploring and photographing what was near home (or more correctly - work.) At lunch time, I ran over to Bowie, Maryland to pick up some supplies at Lowes for a home project. The weather was startlingly beautiful and I decided to explore. I took a few hours off and headed toward two small towns on the western shore of the bay. They were a little less than an hour away, but felt hundreds of miles from work. The Chesapeake Beach was all fogged in as the frigid water was surprised by the 70 degree day.

As I walked up and down the beach taking pictures of the fog shrouded pier, I imagined that this place would be busy on a warm summer afternoon. I then drove up to North Beach. In a simple neighborhood at the top of North Beach was a tiny park consisting of little more than some sandy gravel and a park bench. The fog had cleared, except in the distance, and the loneliness of the park bench on the pebbled beach, along with the strikingly blue water, made a picture I could not resist. I took a couple from that spot and eventually drove up to some marinas and walked around. After satisfying my curiosity and driving back to work, I finished up my now longer day with my mind back at North Beach and Chesapeake beach. Within a day or so the warm air moved out and the cold of winter returned. Someday I intend to bring the family down on a day tripto visit those beautiful little bayside towns.

Looking North along the Chesapeake Beach Boardwalk

A Foggy Pier at Chesapeake Beach Looking East

Looking South along the boardwalk

Looking West toward Herrington Harbor Marina

The little park looking north toward the fog bank and the cover of Five Miles from Home.

Looking to the East from the little park.

Self Publishing

2009-01-15T19:10:00.000-08:00

I've been forming a variety of opinions of self-publishing through the process of publishing Five Miles from Home. Although I sent one Email to a literary agent when I started the process of writing the book, I never really pursued getting it published the traditional route. There are a variety of reasons for this that may make fodder for a later post, but I made the decision early on to self-publish and never really looked back.

I went with LuLu.com based on the recommendation of a friend who had a friend who had published a book about his father through LuLu and liked it. The lack of up front costs and the Print on Demand concept meant that there was little financial risk. I had no expectation of selling many books, but I wanted to experience the full spectrum of the publishing process so I opted to do my own cover designs and layouts. LuLu offers a variety of canned covers, templates and other tools to make it easier, but they do not provide any editorial help. The basic user interface on LuLu is fairly straightforward, but anything that deviates from the straight and narrow path requires all sorts of bizarre gyrations to make things work. Something as simple as revising a manuscript is very poorly handled by the web interface requiring step by step instructions from the on-line chat help desk. Fortunately the on-line chat is very good, much better than the on-line help files which tend to be out-of-date and include buttons and steps that are not there. Overall I've been happy with my interaction with LuLu, especially their chat help. As stated in an earlier post, I've not been happy with LuLu's shipping charges. Five Miles is a very small, simple book (141 pages A5 format) and should cost less than $1 to ship. The copies we order come in a spectacular box with foam and wrapping as if it is made of crystal. But that packaging seems to drive the cost up to over $7.

One aspect of self-publishing that I have been very uncomfortable with was marketing. I decided that I wanted to experience every aspect of publishing including writing, editing and layout, but I wasn't really excited about marketing. And yet, I didn't want to shy away from the uglier parts of the process so I set up the website, the blog and unashamedly emailed friends and family to get the word out. It is a very awkward process.

One part of self-publishing that I hadn't really thought through is the view by book sellers and others that self-publishing is not legitimate. I can understand that since the assumption is that if it is being self-published it is because everyone who knows anything about writing has rejected it and this is all that is left. The analogy that comes to mind is the horrid singers on American Idol auditions who yell in the camera that they will be stars one day despite what Simon says. A friend asked at Borders if they carry local authors and they were excited to feature the book. But then they said that they don't accept self-published or print on demand books. I really don't mind being a second class published author since I have the satisfaction of knowing that I chose this path rather resorted to this path. I would be lying if I said that my blog postings (electronic self publishing) are as satisfying as the magazine articles I've published. I guess there is something to be said for someone else liking your stuff enough to give you money.

I could have simply posted all of the book in serial form on a blog and communicated all the information. That is essentially what the downloaded EBook version is. It would have been cheaper for me and my readers (despite the fact that Print on Demand books have significant up front printing costs, I still have to pay to get review copies and copies that I wish to give away). I didn't want to go that route because there can be something artistic about the physical book. The layout, the feel, the colors, the texture, the fonts, the paper, and the countless components that, combined, create the art of a book. It is more than simply the words and information. Not everyone feels that way about a book and can be just as content with a downloaded Ebook, but I like the companionship of a physical book when that book has those countless elements in proper balance. I spent ridiculous amounts of time trying different sizes and shapes, colors, layouts, illustrations, and page counts to create a physically satisfying book. The text was done long before the book was crafted. I really like the results. Unfortunately the art of a book is a very personal thing. I crafted a physical book that I really like, so it is safe to say that it is satisfying for at least one person. Hopefully others with similar tastes in books will agree.

We are working on another book now. The new one is much different and I don't want it to be shackled with the prejudices that go with self-publishing. I will pursue it with publishers this time. It is also a much more serious work with a very specific audience, parents of special needs children and those who pastor and care for them, so I will not be doing a blanket marketing. At the same time I will need to get the word out so that those who need it can benefit from it so it will involve some marketing. But I might return to self-publishing on future books because I like the control of the product and the reliance on word of mouth to really make it successful. I have a book of sailing stories that is already outlined and ready to start as soon as the current book is finished - but the current book that we are working on is actually a 4 book series so it may have to wait a while. In the meantime, there is still the blog.

Hoopers Island

2009-01-11T18:58:00.000-08:00

Due the generosity of Rick and Ilona, Diane and I were able to go away for an overnight at a bay front house just north of Hoopers Island. To say it was beautiful would be be an extreme understatement. To say that we would move there in a heartbeat would be closer to reality. It was not simply a chance to eat fabulous meals at "Old Salty's" (which we did) or stare out the stunning beauty of the bay (which we did) but it was to write. The trip was a writing retreat and we got so much done that we were astounded. It was the kick-off for a marathon writing time as we try to put together a book about parents of special needs children. More on that a later date. It felt like a combination of Cape Cod from the Early 60's (Diane's memories), a lake in Maine, and a beach house. The towering pine trees around the house created a lake house feel, yet the white caps on the bay made if feel like the ocean. As we drove down to the far, south end of the island, the rollers on the bay were crashing over the bulkhead onto the roadway. This is not the kind of place for people who need to find things to do. There is nothing here but small watermen villages, a hardware store, a few marinas, a restaurant or two (only one open) and a general store. The rest is long, lonely stretches of marsh and pine. It was simply stunning.

Here are a few snapshots from the trip:

This is the view from the master bedroom. It was even more amazing that this image captures. I couldn't stop taking pictures despite so many of them looking just like the others.

This is the house where we stayed. It was a magnificent place to spend a weekend.

This is a staged picture of us writing. No we didn't bring a photographer to catch the action. Just used the timer on the camera.

We drove down to the south end of the island. The marsh and river are just on the other side of that house. The bay just behind us. The lonely, remote beauty of the island is hard to describe. For someone who likes to shop, or walk the boardwalk, it is not the place to go. For those like us who love the empty marshlands and old watermen villages, would love this.

This is one of the many expanses of marsh that often extend to the horizon. I wouldn't want to walk around here in the spring without bug repellent.

We loved to sit in the nearly empty restaurant and feel like a local. The local accent is very similar to the Smith Island accent. The food at Old Salty's was good enough to warrant a restaurant review, which we will do later.

The problem of going some place like this is that I will now begin to long for it. I suppose longing for some place that you go is much better than being glad to get out of there.

Montgomery County

2009-01-08T15:50:00.000-08:00

For those who want to grow in their appreciation for Montgomery County Maryland, Vicki sent me this site tonight: http://www.heritagemontgomery.org/

Check out the video: http://www.heritagemontgomery.org/hmflash/index.html

They have a downloadable podcast that you can follow as you take a scenic drive.

New Option and Amazing Story

2009-01-08T14:25:00.000-08:00

By the end of the week the book should be available to purchase as a download for those who like to curl up with a computer instead of a book. It also provides a good solution to the shipping costs for now. I'll post when it is available. It should only cost $3.50 as a download (I think).

It has also come to my attention that I need to add a safety disclaimer to the book. In a hair raising story the delightfully demonstrates God's care, the Glabs found out that it requires Divine intervention to keep from getting killed by my book:

http://4522-happenings.blogspot.com/2009/01/five-miles-from-home.html

I guess the next edition will have to include the following disclaimer:
Warning: The ideas in this book are only to be carried out by trained professions and should by no means be construed as a suggestion to be anywhere within a 5 mile radius of a train track.

Red-Faced

2009-01-01T20:21:00.000-08:00

We discovered today that some typo corrections to the book never made it into the final printing. My mother, who has a keen editorial eye, discovered a handful of errors and took the time to flag them (thanks mom). I was astounded because the proofreading had been a very long and thorough process and I couldn't imagine any typos making it through. When I began to look them over, I discovered they were errors that, supposedly, had already been flagged and corrected prior to printing. Somehow the final round of corrections evaporated somewhere. I am baffled about how that happened and embarrassed. I am also trying to figure out what happened so that it does not happen again.

Although they are extremely minor, I am going to update the book again. The advantage of Print on Demand publishing is that it should be fairly quick turn around to get the corrected version out.

One year - 40 seconds

2009-01-01T13:14:00.000-08:00

Very nice way to spend 40 seconds: http://vimeo.com/2639782

And a Happy New Year

2008-12-31T21:07:00.000-08:00

What a year 2008 was for our family. We have walked through some of our most difficult trials and enjoyed some of the most stunning demonstrations of God's goodness. We brought in 2008 with Reid and Vicky's health spiraling downward and seemingly out of control. We were planning on moving Reid to a nursing home and were giving Vicky sobering explanations that she may have to face a life incapacitated by fatigue and pain. We end 2008 with Reid home, healthy, comfortable, and happy and we have our Vicky back as her health dramatically improves with controversial chronic lyme treatments. It is our first New Year with Erin living in her own place and no renters filling our home with activity. Home is rather quiet, but we've had enough excitment over the years to last a long time. We'll take some quiet.

Merry Christmas

2008-12-25T20:28:00.001-08:00

Mmmmm

2008-12-24T08:03:00.000-08:00

Diane has posted a mouth watering description of Christmas Dinner from her side of the family - Definitely worth the read, but make sure you aren't hungry:

http://www.fivemilesfromhome.com/diane.htm

A Birth

2008-12-23T10:53:00.000-08:00

NAR: The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God...

CHOIR (BIRTH)

And on that day and in a birth,
A way is made, a way is made,
For faithless man to turn from death
And have again the kiss of life.
Sin's wall removed, light wakens sight.
God's face, unrecognized,
Man stares confused and wondering.

Mystery! Who understands it?
God, the righteous Judge,
Standing up to greet with pure forgiveness.
Man, who turned his lips,
Upon the face of death.
Returning, a sweet embrace,
Bewildered and unworthy.
Man looks into love-filled eyes,
And wonders at God's mercy,
And wonders at God's mercy.

CHILDREN
Look, the light! His face so bright!
He sleeps upon his mommy.
Why should this gentle child,
Be a sacrifice for me?

Music Copyright 1994 by Steve Cook
Words Copyright 1994 by Drew Jones
Vocal Arrangements Copyright 1994 by Cliff Blendermann

Mary

2008-12-22T07:27:00.000-08:00

NAR: ...God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin's name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you." Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob for ever; his kingdom will never end." "How will this be," Mary asked the angel, "since I am a virgin?" The angel answered, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.

...and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

MARY

As a little girl,
I looked up at the clouds,
Catching gentle raindrops on my face,
Wondering if the breeze,
that seized my hair
and tossed it all about like mist,
Was a tender kiss from God.

Standing with my dad,
I looked up at the night,
Counting stars that streaked across the sky.
Wondering if the light,
that brightly lit the moon
and etched the dark with white,
Was his face of light shining through.

Then looking up at Gabriel,
Standing there in terrible
splendor.
All my childhood fantasies,
Humbled by reality,
As God's Holy presence filled my room.

As I caught my breath,
I looked in Joseph's face,
His eye's were filled with terror at my pain.
Wondering what if I,
might die before this child
of mine could find its way,
into the daylight of this world.

As that little boy,
Was handed down to me,
I gently held his cheek in my hand.
Wondering at that child,
embraced within my arms,
I searched his face that I,
might see in him the face of God.

Then looking up at Simeon,
Prophecy has once again
frightened.
All his words are mystery,
Talk of swords and piercing me,
I hold this in my heart, cautiously.

As he bled and died,
I looked up at that cross,
Letting bitter tears run down my face.
Wondering at his pain,
who would explain
why his life was sacrificed,
What a costly price he paid.

As he raised my head,
I looked up in his face,
Wounded, scarred, but smiling down at me.
Wondering, I could see,
For me, my sin, is why his life was sacrificed.
For my costly price he paid.

Music Copyright 1994 by Steve Cook
Words Copyright 1994 by Drew Jones
Vocal Arrangements Copyright 1994 by Cliff Blendermann
Performed by Abby Cannon w/ Dave Campbell on Guitar (Not Martha: Sorry Tracey - too fast with the cut and paste)

Simeon

2008-12-21T12:40:00.000-08:00

Simeon is a briefly mentioned, but very compelling character. His patient faithfulness is rewarded by God in such an intimate way - by allowing him to hold his Messiah in his arms.

NAR: Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord's Christ. Moved by the Spirit, he went into the temple courts. When the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the custom of the Law required, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying: "Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation...

SIMEON

I held him.
At the time it didn't seem so impossible.
Fleeting moments In that too familiar court,
How could it be
That this child I held was the Son of God.
With these horrid hands, these horrid, sin-stained hands
In a flash of judgment, I should have died.
As I held the Holy Christ.

By his mercy,
I held him in my arms
He was still and helpless in my hands.
And I wondered at it all.
Oh, who am I
that I could hold God's only son.

I had waited countless years
for Messiah to appear
God had promised I would see him in my time
I envisioned it before,
how adoring crowds would roar
at the splendor of our King Most High.
He would sit upon his throne,
calling us to be his own
As the rulers of the earth bowed low
But, I never would have dreamed
he would come so frail and weak
And I didn't have a warning on that morning
When they laid him in my arms

By his mercy,
He held me in his arms
I was still and helpless in his hands.
And I wondered at it all.
Who am I
that I beheld God's only son.

Music Copyright 1994 by Steve Cook
Words Copyright 1994 by Drew Jones
Vocal Arrangements Copyright 1994 by Cliff Blendermann
Performed by Fred Cunningham

The Shepherds

2008-12-20T06:23:00.000-08:00

I am afraid we gave in to the common temptation to use the Shepherds for comic relief in Stories of Christmas.

NAR: And there were shepherds living out in the fields near by, keeping watch over their flocks at night.

SHEPHERDS

Shepherd1:
It was windy, cold and damp,
I had just set up our camp,
We were sitting down to eat our evening stew.
He was nodding off to sleep.
Through the bleating of the sheep,
'Cause there wasn't really much for us to do.

I had finished my last bite,
Was about to kill the light,
When I heard the faintest rumbling in the air.
It just couldn't be ignored,
So I shook him, he just snored,
In an instant there were angels everywhere.

Shepherd2:
It was stagnant, hot and dry,
And I can't imagine why,
You insist that you're the one who set the camp.
He ate every drop of stew
And had nothing else to do
I had even put the oil in the lamp

Shepherd1:
I've a story to relate
so if you would kindly wait
To discuss alleged inconsistencies

Shepherd2: Go on.
Shepherd1: Thank You...as I was saying
Shepherd1: It was windy, cold and damp
Shepherd2: Dry!
Shepherd1: ...dry
Shepherd1: And I looked into the sky
Shepherd2: And We looked into the sky!
Shepherd1:
and WE looked into the sky
what WE saw completely took our breath away.
Shepherd2:
It was filled with wondrous sights,
There were brilliant, blinding lights,
Shepherd1: I would like to tell this story, if I may.
Shepherd2:
There were thousands of them there
All just floating in the air
In a moment he was running for his life
Shepherd1: You don't know, you were asleep,
I ran off to guard the sheep,
Shepherd2: You went running...
Shepherd1: Yes, but just to grab a knife.

Shepherd1: Then they told us do not fear
Shepherd2: Little late for this one here
Shepherd1: Then they all began to sing the wondrous news

Shepherd1: Shepherd2:
The messiah came today, Stand before the Lord most high,
In a town not far away, Sing his praise and glorify,
To declare deliverance, The Anointed one brings peace,
for all the Jews. upon the Jews.

Shepherd1: What was that?
Shepherd2: What was what? Where did you get that song?
Shepherd1: That's what the angles sang?
Shepherd2: That didn't bear any resemblance to what they sang!
Shepherd1: A lot more than what you say they sang!
Shepherd2: Did not!
Shepherd1: Did so!
Shepherd2: Did not!
Shepherd1: Did so!

CHOIR (DECLARATION TO SHEPHERDS)

Wonder! Wonder!
God has come, now God incarnate,
Glorify, proclaim his praise.
Mercy freely pours upon,
Mankind's defiant face.
The King takes on the form of man,
And comes to save from blindness.
His enemies see now displayed,
The glory of God's kindness.
Wonder!

Shepherd2: Yeah...it was sort of like that.

Shepherd1: Sort of.

Music Copyright 1994 by Steve Cook
Words Copyright 1994 by Drew Jones
Vocal Arrangements Copyright 1994 by Cliff Blendermann
Performed by Kelly Craig and David Porter

Zechariah's Neighbors

2008-12-19T05:02:00.000-08:00

Zechariah's Neighbors have always intrigued me. Although this show had little staging, this one scene had Zechariah trying to speak and his neighbors jumping in to give their explanation of what he was trying to say. I particularly like the part in the story where they make signs to him to ask him about naming John. He was mute, he wasn't deaf. I think of it like the same phenomenon of people raising their voices when speaking to someone who is blind or doesn't speak the same language.

NAR: When it was time for Elizabeth to have her baby, she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared her joy. On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him after his father Zechariah, but his mother spoke up and said, "No! He is to be called John."...

...Then they made signs to his father, to find out what he would like to name the child. He asked for a writing tablet, and to everyone's astonishment he wrote, "His name is John." Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue was loosed, and he began to speak, praising God. The neighbors were all filled with awe, and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things.

ZECHARIAH AND HIS NEIGHBORS

Zechariah wants to tell you,
that his voice is not so well,
'Cause something happened just the other day.
He was servin' in the temple,
Though his work was really simple,
He delayed within the holy place.

We were worried so we hurried,
Looked for help with such a flurry,
Then he came out with those blurry eyes.
He was gropin mouth was open,
Tried to speak as we were hopin',
He would tell us what went on inside.

Only air came gushing out,
That's the moment we found out,
Zechariah's voice was gone, Oh.

So we tried to get the story,
Or at least an allegory,
But you see there's nothing he can say.
When we couldn't get the picture,
We surmised we must conjecture,
At the reason he came out this way.

And it didn't take us long,
To see why his voice is gone,
He's done something awfully wrong, Uh.

More, much more to tell you.
There's more, much more to tell you!

We felt pity for his wife,
Waiting her entire life,
Hoping that a child was on the way.
You can see she's no spring chicken,
And it seemed that they were stricken,
To be childless in their final days.

You can see he's not a talker,
But he'd never want to shock her,
Like he did when he came home that day, yeah.

Now we won't go into details,
But the basic story entails,
What the two old birds were heard to say.
It was time to build a nest,
to get ready to be blessed,
For a little one was on the way.

Now it gets a little odder,
When this coming baby's father,
Tried to tell us what the name would be.
But he left us so confused,
That we didn't have a clue,
So we thought that we would offer a few.

Zechariah as a name was fine,
But it was not what he had in mind.
So we tried Zach, Zeke, Zuk,
But then it seemed we were in a rut.
We threw out Moses, Alfonso and Gonzo.
We thought of Filbert and Grover, Alonzo.
How bout the noble name of Augustus,
But as we spoke Zech got more disgusted.
There was Izzy and Adam and Alastair.
By this time Zech was near despair.

Tempers started then to fly,
When 'Lizebeth came by,
So we asked her bout the babies name.
But before our recitation,
And without a hesitation,
She announced the baby's name was John.

Was John? What John?
Yes John? Why John? Not John?

So we turned around to Zech,
Just to see where he as at...

Hey Zechariah whatcha going to name your boy

Wait a minute are we out of our minds?
He hears just fine

And we gave something to him to write on,
It was much to our surprise,
When he wrote before our eyes,
That the baby would be named...

ZECH: John!

Music Copyright 1994 by Steve Cook
Words Copyright 1994 by Drew Jones
Vocal Arrangements Copyright 1994 by Cliff Blendermann
Performed by Corby Megorden, Joni Powell, Vikki Cook, Drew Jones

Elizabeth

2008-12-18T05:32:00.000-08:00

There is nothing obscure about Elizabeth's character. She is a major player in the Christmas story. In Elizabeth we emphasized the perfect timing of God to bring salvation to mankind.

By the way, in case you are wondering why I am posting videos of the songs with nothing more than a title for the graphic, it is because I can't find a way for blogger to post MP3 files.

NAR: ...there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly division of Abijah; his wife Elizabeth was also a descendant of Aaron. Both of them were upright in the sight of God, observing all the Lord's commandments and regulations blamelessly. But they had no children, because Elizabeth was barren; and they were both well on in years. Once when Zechariah...
...was serving as priest before God...
...an angel of the Lord appeared to him...
...When Zechariah saw him, he was startled and was gripped with fear. But the angel said to him: "Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son...

ELIZABETH

In time, I had stopped all hoping.
In time, my waiting was resigned.
In time, I made no demands,
for I knew new my time was past.

In time, life had settled slowly.
In time, I gave up all complaints.
In time, My wants fell in peace,
I could bear his choice with joy.

In time, Worship came with meaning,
In time, Praise was more than will.
In time, I found gratitude,
in the childless life I owned.

And then, God abandoned silence.
And He turned his face on me.
And then, Our quiet lives were reeling,
as he reached his hand toward us.

And then, My husband saw a vision.
And then, his voice was locked away.
And then, my empty womb was filled,
with the child that could not be.

And then, Mary stood before me.
And then, I knew the child she bore.
And then, I was engulfed in mercy,
as I saw God's gracious plan.

In time, His life was offered freely.
And I understood my need.
In time, I was freed from judgment,
for his sacrifice,
was in time.

Music Copyright 1994 by Steve Cook
Words Copyright 1994 by Drew Jones
Vocal Arrangements Copyright 1994 by Cliff Blendermann
Performed by Martha Patton

A Soldier

2008-12-17T06:00:00.000-08:00

Stories of Christmas attempts to view the coming of Jesus from the perspective of characters with a wide variety of prominence in the story. The perspective of one of the soldiers who had to carry out the brutal killing of children may seem an odd one to include, but even that action touched eternity. It also takes "Why" through the spectrum of interpretations.

NAR:...And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route. ...When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi. Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled: "A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more."

SOLDIER:
Justus of Lydda, Second guard,
command of Pious, Under Herod!

Yes Sir,
The engagement was carried out,
Precisely and efficiently
Our actions all were limited,
To Bethlehem's vicinity.

Despite reluctance in the ranks,
A weakness one could understand,
The orders all were carried out,
As per instructions, as was planned.

It was moonless, cool and dark on that quiet night,
We entered every residence without a fight,
Adults were quickly moved to a secluded room,
They were separated it was safe to resume.
Our intentions were unknown 'til the task was done,
The parent's weren't released until we had their sons.
In every case the child was removed from bed,
The family didn't know until the boy was dead.

Justus of Lydda, Second guard,
command of Pious, Under Herod!

Yes Sir
I have been trained not to debate,
Or scrutinize what I am told.
If kings unmask a threat so grave,
That I must kill a two year old,
It is my duty not to question why.

They showed no fear, just childlike wonder in their eyes.
Kids trusted us, they'd march with us when we'd go by.
Ask for our spears and want to help us with our packs,
Then fall asleep and be brought home upon our backs.
Why only boys, why two years old, such helpless things,
What kind of child could be a threat to reigning kings.
Why did I have to see their face and hear their cry
Why did I choose obedience, I don't know why!

Justus of Lydda, Second guard,
Why did I obey! I don't know why!

CHOIR

Why...

CHILDREN:

Why....
look, the light!
His face so bright!
His hands are soft, he holds me.
I love his gentle eyes
He's God and he's my daddy

Music Copyright 1994 by Steve Cook
Words Copyright 1994 by Drew Jones
Vocal Arrangements Copyright 1994 by Cliff Blendermann
Performed by Dave Campbell

The Story of a Magi

2008-12-16T05:19:00.000-08:00

Our approach with the wisemen was to consider the possibility of how out of character this journey might have been. The image of a circumspect, careful man throwing everything to the wind to accomplish God's will for his life, is compelling. I don't remember the author of this quote, but it has always gripped me, "Find out what the will of God is for your generation, and fling yourself into it."

NAR: After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, "Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him." When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him... the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. ...On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh.

MAGI:

Making choices cautiously
In all respects, circumspect.
Weighing each activity,
I move with care, everywhere.
Knowing that behind each choice,
Consequences lie.
Every option analyzed,
with a prudent eye.

Vague impressions don't suffice.
Without some facts, I don't act.
Chasing stars is imprecise.
Which way to go, when there's snow.
We have brains so we should use,
our intelligence.
When God leads he leads our mind,
So it all make sense.

When I first received the notion
To pursue an Eastern Star
Somehow finding the Messiah
Seemed absurd, it seemed bizarre
"Always walk as led by reason"
Was my motto and my guide
And reason said this urge was wrong
And on that reason I relied.

Yet, this urge would not abate.
I sought advice, more than twice.
Hoping friends would set me straight
But with each nod, might be God.
Was I mad, or this a joke?
My doubt made me ill.
If I shun it I may find
It had been God's will.

There are times you've gotta leap,
In the dark, through the wind,
With no idea where you'll land.
Reputation tossed aside,
Be a fool, risk it all,
Cutting every safety line.
When rules of reason don't apply,
It seems pointless, ill-advised,
But there are times the wisest choice,
is to choose to be a fool.

Now looking back, with hindsight,
I made a stance, took a chance.
And that risk turned out all right,
Low outlay rate, payback great.
Had I safely stayed at home
as one might have done
I'd have missed God's plan for me
to wisely greet his son.

Music Copyright 1994 by Steve Cook
Words Copyright 1994 by Drew Jones
Vocal Arrangements Copyright 1994 by Cliff Blendermann
Performed by Kevin Hartnett

Joseph

2008-12-15T06:02:00.000-08:00

The character of Joseph is not described much in scripture. In the Stories of Christmas, we took a few liberties with him and extrapolated how he might be reacting to all the scary things that were happening to him and his family. Given the angelic introduction, it seems likely he thought that things were going to go well. When things did not go well, he may have been like most of us and felt disoriented, baffled and even angry.

NAR: This is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins." ...When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife.

JOSEPH:

What happened!
It was going so well,
The dreams that I carried
fell neatly into place.
And knowing,
That God gives as reward,
A life stable and calm,
toward all those who obey.
But, Who can say,
What happened.

I can't help but wonder,
Was it all that it seemed,
On the night of that vision,
On the night that I dreamed.
How could God be leading,
How can you explain,
All the suffering, confusion,
The turmoil and pain.

What possible purpose,
could God have in place,
for gossip, and slander,
for Mary's disgrace.
All she did was obey,
and her name became smeared,
as her relatives whispered,
and the townspeople leered.

We were forced to leave home,
when the baby was due,
Such a difficult journey
to put Mary through
The constant contractions
the bleeding and pain
and the heat, and the smell
and the crowds and the rain

Why wasn't God leading
When we needed a bed
Giving birth in the filth,
Was it judgement instead?
One moment new parents,
and then we were faced,
with escapes in the night,
being hunted and chased.

Then horrible stories,
of slaughter and death,
And the guilt when we learned,
it began when we left.
Where were all the visions,
and angles and dreams,
When the yelling of soldiers,
drown young mothers screams.

Can someone explain,
why God judged us this way.
I tried to be faithful,
I tried to obey.
Yet each time that I trusted,
it all went awry,
What happened What happened,
What Happened and Why!

Music Copyright 1994 by Steve Cook
Words Copyright 1994 by Drew Jones
Arrangements Copyright 1994 by Cliff Blendermann
Performed by John Spiro

Stories of Christmas

2008-12-14T09:34:00.000-08:00

In 1994 I was involved the production of a Christmas Oratorio called Stories of Christmas. As we approach the celebration of the incarnation, I'm going to be posting lyrics and mp3 files of the event. The quality of the mp3 files is not exceptional since the best recording of it came from a VHS tape, but it should be okay for all but the most trained ears.

The opening of the show was a choir number. Unfortunately, the placement of the choir mics were such that a couple of well meaning, but somewhat out-of-tune singers in the choir were disproportionately highlighted. As a result, I don't want to post the MP3 of the choir sections. Here is the opening narration and the opening lyrics:

NAR: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.

CHOIR:

And on that day and with a word,
A world was made, a world was made.
And in that world the Word made man,
And on his lips a kiss was laid,
And in that kiss, creation sang,
For life as pure as light,
Was breathed in clay, was breathed in clay.

And when that man, now filled with life,
Chose to profane, chose to profane.
Extinguish light, make black of white,
Break peace with fear, strike joy with pain,
He led a world, into the night.
A gasp, as breath, once new,
Withdrew, from man and death began.

Man joined sin in shameless union,
As one flesh, entwined, caressed.
Lips once touched by life's Creator,
Freely turned and pressed,
Upon the face of death.
And in that kiss, in that embrace,
Entangled with seduction,
Man wrenched himself away from God,
And leapt toward his destruction.

And on this day, and in a birth
A way is made...

Music Copyright 1994 by Steve Cook
Words Copyright 1994 by Drew Jones
Arrangements Copyright 1994 by Cliff Blendermann

Huh?

2008-12-09T19:02:00.000-08:00

I discovered today how much the publisher is charging for shipping when the book is directly ordered from them. Although I have no control over their prices, I find it ridiculous. I hope it will be better with Amazon. Oddly enough, the shipping price doesn't change much when you order multiple books. Despite the risk of appearing to suggest you buy lots of books, I will suggest that if you go in with others on an order, you will save a lot on shipping.

If I can find a way around the publishers exorbitant shipping, I'll let you know.

Lift-Off

2008-12-06T06:19:00.001-08:00

Five Miles from Home ...and other exotic travel destinations is now available at LuLu.com. It should be available at Amazon some time around February. The FiveMilesFromHome.com website has also been updated and includes some nice goodies including a regular essay from Diane, photos, links to various local exploration resources, and a sampling of outing itineraries that have done over the years. My ambition is to expand the information available - but the moderating effect of a limited amount of time may have other ideas.

Here are the links:

To Buy Five Miles From Home from LuLu: http://www.lulu.com/commerce/index.php?fBuyContent=4555947

To Visit the Five Miles From Home Website: http://www.fivemilesfromhome.com/

Vermont

2008-12-01T18:21:00.000-08:00

The horror stories about Thanksgiving travel did not materialize as we drove up to Vermont on Wednesday and back home on Saturday. We left in the wee hours of Wednesday and drove through Pennsylvania instead of the typical Jersey Turnpike route. We probably have driven through NJ for the last time - at least at Thanksgiving.

While getting there wasn't too bad, getting from the hotel, up the ice covered mountain to Grandma and Grandpa's house was hair raising and, at times, unsuccessful. Snow can usually be overcome, ice is always the victor.

The highlight of the trip was spending time with family members whom we haven't seen in a long time. The cousins all hit it off, as well as the various aunts, uncles, and grandparents, which is a testimony to the power of family. The extremely diverse mix would never be thrown together in any other context except maybe a Church.

Here are a few pictures from the trip:

Annie Moses Band - Part 2

2008-11-24T15:17:00.000-08:00

It was simply a remarkable concert. The cliche of, "I laughed, I cried..." could not be more appropriate except to add, "I sat with my mouth open in utter astonishment." Some specifics:

The music was astounding. It was so refreshing to hear such complex, creative, diverse music in such a God glorifying way. I wanted them to go on all night, but I think they would have been exhausted because of the...
Showmanship. When a show is a show it should be a show. The showmanship was outstanding and had me laughing until it hurt and crying until it was becoming embarrassing. It used to bother me when I knew songs were designed to jerk my emotions around. Then I decided that having my emotions jerked around is part of the process of fully enjoying a show. I have started to stop resisting, lay aside any cynicism and enjoy. "When Daddy Says I'm Beautiful" was one of those deliberate emotion yanking songs that I surrendered to and had a wonderful time blubbering like a fool. One thing that baffled was the obligatory...
Sermonette. For some reason that defies reason, some of the most artistic and cutting edge Christian bands feel the need to have a little sermon near the end of the show. It is tacky tradition that shows up in almost every Christian concert that I have ever been to. The mother of the Annie Moses Band members did the honors last night and the topic was the height of irony. It was an exhortation for Christians to recapture the arts - something I agree with wholeheartedly - and by stopping the show to do it, she introduced tacky into a beautiful piece of art. Sort of like sticking a Jesus bumper sticker over a magnificent painting that communicates everything needed to make the point.

But all in all it was a wonderful way to spend an evening and drain a checkbook buying CD's in the lobby afterward. I hope we get to see them again.

Rachel Carson Conservation Area

2008-11-11T12:11:00.000-08:00

I made a delightful discovery today just off Sundown Road in northern Montgomery County: Rachael Carson Conservation Area. I went for a time to pray, but was thoroughly distracted by the beautiful trails, the Hawlings river and the rugged rock outcroppings. Even though the winter gray has settled on the area, it was still beautiful. I can't wait to try again in the spring when it is lush.

My route was the Fox Meadow Loop to the Rachel Carson Greenway trail to the Chestnut Oak trail and back to the Fox Meadow Loop. The first trail lived up to it's name. I was on the trail for a few minutes when a startled red fox scampered off. A few minutes later a hawk (or maybe a falcon - I don't know how to tell them apart) leapt into the air. I didn't have a chance to hit the inner trails. There was a maginficent outcropping of white and gray stone that I want to visit next time.

Here are some photos:

Annie Moses Band

2008-11-08T19:31:00.000-08:00

Here is a find! They are coming to CLC on November 23rd. I never heard of the Annie Moses Band until tonight, but I'm excited by what I've seen on YouTube:

Light Reading

2008-11-06T19:24:00.000-08:00

An updated review copy is bumping it's way through the postal system toward home. It looks like we are almost there. What a fun process. I also had my first non-editorial reading of the book. One of Reid's nurses, who has become a dear friend, wanted to read the error filled review copy. I probably should have made him wait until a better copy arrived, but he has long nights to fill (when Reid is well), and had heard so much about the book from me, that he didn't want to wait. He comments were very encouraging. He described it as an engaging, simple, book that he enjoyed thoroughly. His highest complement was ignoring my request to flag errors. He said he was too interested in the reading to bother with noting mistakes. I suppose it really isn't fair having the first response to the book be someone who has the gift of encouragement, but I'll take it.

I'll let you, and any of the other 6.5 Billion people of the world who stumble on this site, in on a little secret. This book served a dual purpose. First, it is a topic I enjoy and I think it can be a benefit for many people. Second, it was practice. Diane and I are beginning work on the book that is a far more weighty and, as a result, far more challenging. We did not want to attempt it without a complete book under our belts. I won't say much more about it yet since we are still in the planning stages, but it's goal is to help parents of special needs children.

Review Copy Arrives

2008-10-31T20:06:00.001-07:00

It was a thrilling moment to open the box and see the book for the first time. I may be a bit biased, but it more beautiful than I expected. Now I start the tedious and humbling process of methodically finding and repairing my mistakes. Having a printed and bound book accentuates the mistakes that I didn't catch during proof-reading. A mistake seems more out of place when framed in a beautifully printed book. It will be a weekend of careful reading, making notes and submitting changes. Hopefully the finished version will be available soon, if I can avoid the temptation to keep rewriting it and simply focus on fixing the small mistakes that made it through the editing process.

Here is a little excerpt from Chapter 2 - I'd Rather be Content

When Diane and I were first married, she desperately missed her home state of New Jersey. This may seem absurd to those who are not from New Jersey, but I quickly learned that people from New Jersey are militant in their love of state. It was especially easy at the time to see why she missed it so much as we were living in a poor, crime ridden blight of a town in Maryland. I wanted to help her and so one holiday I bought her a subscription to a magazine about Maryland. It was one in a long line of well intentioned fiasco gifts that I have subjected her to over the years. Every month the issue would arrive and I would read it from cover to cover. She patiently endured me casually reading portions out loud for her benefit. I don’t believe it did much to increase her love of Maryland or reduce her longing for New Jersey, but I was captivated by all the wonderful things in our state that I didn’t know about. Decades later, when seeking to cultivate my own contentment for where we lived, I re-subscribed to what is now called Maryland Life Magazine. It has become one of many valuable weapons in my fight for contentment.

Review Copy

2008-10-28T19:07:00.000-07:00

I should receive the review copy of Five Miles from Home and other exotic travel destinations this week. I hope it reads as well as it looks:

The High Price of Health

2008-10-20T20:06:00.000-07:00

My wife's cousin and family have been avid vegetarians, organic, whole-wheat, marathon running, wood chopping, sugar and processed food free since college. Her two children never had cakes, cookies, pies, candy or other standard fare of modern children. Her two children also never had a cold, an ear ache, a flu, or any illness. Both kids are adults now, far into graduate school (I believe or possibly already graduated), and as far as we are aware, continue to live the way they were raised. I have never met a healthier family.

I'm just finishing up Continuing to Live the Good Life by Helen and Scott Nearing. They lived a very similar, disciplined life as my wife's cousins. Working hard outside, vegetarians who ate what they organically grew in their garden, etc. He lived to be 100 and she 91 and as of the publication of this book in 1979 (He was 96 and she as 87) they were in perfect health, had no need for any medical care and hadn't needed to visit a doctor in over 50 years. Scott Nearing was still building stone walls two weeks before he died of pneumonia at 100.

It raises the question in my mind if spending your life eating raw millet and never having a chocolate chip cookie is a fair price to pay for never being sick. These two examples are not unique and it seems like the correlation between a long and healthy life and radically natural eating practices and other healthy lifestyle choices is pretty indisputable. I hate sickness, and yet I know the path to take to be free from sickness. I also really like cake, and pie, and chocolate chip cookies. I really don't like raw millet (well, I've actually never tried it, but I lived in a single guys house 30 years ago where we had bags of the stuff sitting in our cabinets for a year or more after a health food fit - but no one actually ate any of it.) Is health worth the cost? I suppose if I start eating raw millet when I'm 80 it will be too late to make a difference. At 50 it might be too late to make a difference. But the real question is whether it is worth it. I'm not sure. I'll have to think about it over a slab of prime rib, a loaded baked potato and a hot fudge sundae.

Using the grease soaked napkin I made a few calculations. What if I spent the next 50 years living a health lifestyle by eating radically healthy foods and exercising regularly. What if I assumed that time spent eating lousy healthy food and doing tedious exercises to be life lost:

50 Years is the same as 18250 Days (not factoring in leap years)
What if I spent 1.5 hours/day eating bland healthy stuff
What if I spent 1 hours/day doing tedious healthy fitness stuff.
What if I considered that 2.5 hours per day life lost.
That would mean I would lose 45,625 hours doing healthy stuff over the next 50 years.
Since awake time is really the only time I enjoy (not counting naps on Sunday afternoon), that means each day is a 16 hour awake day
Using the 16 hour day, I would lose 2851.6 waking days doing healthy stuff
That translates to losing 7.8 years doing healthy stuff
If I subtract those lost years from living another 50 years that means I would really have only 42.2 years left not doing healthy stuff

Could I expect to live a vibrant and unhealthy life and make it to age 92.2? Not likely. Could I expect to live to 100 being radically healthy? Not likely, but the chance is certainly better if I was eating well and exercising regularly. Calculating raw time, I guess it is worth the investment to eat healthy and exercise.

I suppose it all starts with not staying up until after midnight on a weekday writing bizarre blog postings about living a healthy life.

Strange Garden Bed Fellows

2008-10-13T16:35:00.000-07:00

I am reading an old book called "Continuing to Live the Good Life" (1979) by Scott and Helen Nearing. It is the follow-on book to their famous "Living the Good Life" (1954 - I think) which heavily influenced the homesteading (or back-to-the-land) rage that began in the 60's. They started homesteading in the 1930's, pioneering organic gardening techniques and rejecting much modern technology. They were essentially subsistence dirt farmers, except they were highly educated and tuned their farming techniques with much experimentation, documentation and meticulous record keeping. They also wrote about their "experiment" in a variety of venues including the two books. Although I've never read either of books until now, I have heard about them for years and I remember reading about Scott Nearing's death at age 101 from pneumonia. He was still actively maintaining the farm and building his beloved rock walls.

I have always been drawn to the homesteading, off-the-grid, self-sufficient world and still sneak a peak at Mother Earth News when in the library (I had a subscription many years ago). There seems to be something inexplicably right about working with nature, working with your hands, working in the dirt, working outside, supplying your own needs, and working at home. That world and I make a strange combination. My career revolves around the highest of high tech, politically I am no where near the extremely left leanings of the "whole wheat" crowd, and I have a Genesis view of man's role to subdue the earth, not the pantheistic view of man's subservience to the god that is nature. And yet it still fascinates me and I admire those who do it - like I admire those who sail alone around the world. But, there is a dark side to it that bothers me.

As I have read with such delight about their lives of gardening, building, and composting, my idyllic view of that world has been haunted by a flaw in the concept. They essentially spend their day providing for their needs. They have a small "cash crop" that they sell to buy things they can't produce, but almost all of their time revolves around themselves. There seems something innately self-centered in a life that contributes little to the world around them. I don't know anything about the Nearings and I don't know if they were self-centered people or not. From their writings it appears they were very generous and concerned about social things (they were actually very radical socialists). But the lifestyle they chose and promoted is a world where people spend their prime time (working hours) simply meeting their needs.

A police officer spends the workday protecting people, a firefighter spends the day rescuing, a teacher teaching, an engineering theoretically improving the world, and they are all paid money from which they can meet their needs. But the time spent making that money was used doing significant things for others. There seems something dark about throwing all of your life away on simply providing what you need. It may be satisfying and it may be peaceful but is it valuable? It could be argued that the Nearings contributed to the world around them by inspiring and teaching others to homestead and live off the land, but it seems like propagating a self-centered life. How does society benefit from more people spending their lives providing for themselves. There are certainly countless people who have no other opportunities other than providing for themselves doing menial and pointless work, yet those who are earning an income doing meaningless work are then funneling their income back into society by buying clothes, electricity and milk shakes. I may be missing something obvious, but to live a good life doing nothing more than meeting your own needs may not be such a good life after all.

Knowing this doesn't really change my fantasy view of the back-to-the-land world because I know I will never do anything more than read about it. My life is intertwined in high-tech. I live on the edge of the suburbs in a modern, suburban world. I really like having a date with my wife at Panara Bread or some other fashionable chain. And I really like air conditioning. Just like I love to read books about sailing around the world without any delusion that I will someday do it, I read about homesteading and a simple world of digging your families needs out of the ground, knowing that it is not a world for me. I'm glad that circumnavigators write about their adventures and I'm glad that homesteaders tell their tale, so I can sit in my environmentally controlled suburban home and enjoy it. So I suppose the Nearings and other homesteaders who write about their lives have contributed something to the outside world - something pleasant to read.

Tandem Bikes

2008-10-12T16:25:00.000-07:00

My daughter has a tandem bike and it has become our regular adventure to tool around the neighborhood and side streets most days. Her health usually prevents much more than a simple ride to the end of the street or a neighboring street and we rarely exceed 2 miles. This past Saturday, despite feeling very poorly, she was up for a little more of an adventure. We rode out of our delightfully quiet area onto one of the major roads that run through the county. It was a short, but hair raising, dash along this 40 MPH road (with most people doing 60) to our little town. Once there we were able to relax as the speed limit drops dramatically and we are only on the street briefly before being able to pick up a bike path. We made it all the way through town and then down a long residential street filled with mansions and manicured lawns. It ran along a country club golf course making everything all the more meticulous and perfect. After about a mile we finally hit the cul de sac, and headed home. Over all it was about an 8 mile trip.

There is a remarkable phenomenon when riding a Tandem bike; everyone smiles when they notice you. People feel compelled to wave even if they are way up their driveway or in some proximity to you that they would never normally wave. People look up from their yard work surprised and inevitably smile. I suppose the novelty has something to do with it, but I suspect that there are associations with Bicycles built for two. Happy, carefree associations of picnics, parades, small town, soda shops, straw hats and barbershop quartets. It is wonderful to create smiles simply by riding around on a bike.

Alpaca Days

2008-09-30T17:57:00.000-07:00

I loaded the crumbling remains of my prized John Deere JS63C mower into the van, stuffed some cash in my wallet, gave my youngest daughter the job of navigator and headed up for the rolling countryside of northern Maryland to buy a used lawn mower off craigslist. I was bringing the old mower because the seller said he would take it for parts. I brought the cash because it was a family selling the mower and the teenage son had rebuilt it as part of his homeschool curriculum. He didn't take Visa. I brought my daughter because I love spending time with her and it was Alpaca Days. This somewhat regular event is designed to get visitors out to tour Alpaca farms and there was an Alpaca farm just 9 miles from where the mower was sitting and waiting for my cash.

The drive took us into the stunning beauty of the farmland between Libertytown and Thurmont. The teenage mower Mogul lived on roads that were barely one lane and that barely disturbed the amazing scenery. It was a trip worth $4 gallons of gas even without the lure of a 5 year old Craftsman push mower for $100 or Alpacas. With our dead mower unloaded, our used mower loaded and my wallet lighter we found our Alpaca farm. To say they were cute is obvious. They were also mischievous and surprisingly affectionate. There are more Alpaca centric events coming to a farm near you - and likely at the end of a delightful drive.

On The Edge of Rural

2008-09-27T08:02:00.000-07:00

Today I waited in the grocery store parking lot for a huge truck pulling a bunch of horses to rumble past. It struck me how fortunate I am to live at the edge of rural. My drive is regularly interrupted by a tractor moving from one field to another - which is something I would not experience in downtown Philadelphia. As we drove home we crossed an undefined line between the rural part of our area and the suburban part. Although undefined, the line is very noticeable by the strip of destruction. It prompted a ridiculously elaborate analogy that seems surprisingly accurate.

We live on the front lines. On one side is suburban sprawl, on the other is idyllic rural countryside, in between is a no-mans land of trenches, mud, pits, and destruction. On the suburban sprawl side are arrayed row upon row of armored machinery and helmeted swarms. On the rural side are fences, some cows, a horse or two and aging farmers. The chances of the farmers surviving the onslaught were almost non-existent - until the housing market collapsed. Like a clever special-ops team draining the gas tanks of an approaching army, the housing market collapse has stopped the greedy horde in their tracks. Now, as we drive across no-mans land onto the rural side of the battle lines, we see the machinery abandoned and swarms gone. The trenches, mud, pits and destruction are still there, but now vegetation is beginning to return and cover the scars.

I know that every politician is working hard to get things moving again and they will likely succeed at some point. In the mean time the aging farmers have a breather and all of us who love the rolling world they live in have another chance to appreciate what we have. Maybe the housing collapse isn't such a bad thing.

A Long Silence and a Short History

2008-09-24T16:48:00.000-07:00

I have been pondering how to start this blog. I mentioned earlier that an explanation of the title and the corresponding website was coming, but I haven't been certain where to begin. Here is the history...

In simple terms, Five Miles From Home blog and website are a web presence for a book that I have written but have yet to attempt to publish. The 1st draft is complete and my wife has graciously reviewed and marked it up. It is currently getting "Drawer Time", a phrase that my daughter taught me. "Drawer Time" is stepping away from the book for a few weeks so that when you return to continue the editing process you have somewhat fresher eyes.

Five Miles From Home... and Other Exotic Travel Destinations, is the full title and it is a travel book about not traveling, or more correctly, not traveling far from home. Although I have been tinkering with the idea of writing it for some time, the sky high gas prices have made the book seem exceptionally timely. Over the past few months I've cloistered myself away in my son's room and filled out the detailed outline that I had previously developed. It is not a book of lists of specific local things to do (the web is too good to try to compete in that arena), rather it is a book about learning to enjoy what is nearby, whatever those things might be. It is a very simple concept. Rather than people from L.A. flying out to D.C. for a vacation and people from D.C. flying out to L.A. for a vacation, this book suggests that people in L.A. could spend their entire lives seeing all the sites in L.A. and people in D.C. seeing all the sites in D.C. What needs to change to make that idea palatable, is the thought processes. That change of heart is the essence of Five Miles From Home.

The seed for the book was born over 20 years ago with my son Reid. His disabilities and medical needs were so intense that traveling became very difficult for us. When his conditions became so acute that nurses or nursing homes were required for any time away, the possibility of significant travel evaporated. Although I am a card carrying optimist, the reality that the various trips I had dreamed about (and expected we would take just after the next medical emergency) would not be possible, hit me one morning on the way to work. We had just received the bill from a nursing home where Reid had stayed during a trip to visit my in-laws and stunning cost made even my hopeful mind admit that expecting to see the world was a delusion. The numerous exotic trips I had planned over the years were not going to happen and I was overwhelmed by a, very uncharacteristic, despair.

No sooner had the cloud descended than I began to examine my thoughts and motivations. Why did this bother me so much? The answer was simple, I wasn't getting my expectations fulfilled. Is there much chance of circumstances changing? In all likelihood, no. Then, why not change my expectations? Can I do that? Let's find out.... Thus began my mission to become content with all things local and, unwittingly, develop the backbone experiences for Five Miles From Home.

The process of choosing to learn to love the local was lengthy but fun. The book tries to boil down what I did into practical steps that others could benefit from as well. Although contentment is a very unnatural frame of mind, it can be cultivated and the personal benefits are dramatic. The scope of the book is limited to travel, but many of the lessons are applicable in other walks of life. While gas is high and the newspapers and evening news are filled with new concepts like "staycations" I think there may be a market for a little book that suggests ways to become content seeing the world that is only Five Miles From Home.

It Begins

2008-09-07T13:06:00.000-07:00

Just a quick hello as I make the transition from Xanga. This site is the blog companion to http://www.FiveMilesFromHome.com which is coming in the next day or so. I will hopefully be able to provide some sort of an explanation of the blog and website name.