Neil's Spiel

So I decided to write something.  Sue me.

Our family picked up tickets to the Phoenix Symphony's Family Series which they bill as "...features six Saturday afternoons of fun, learning and music! Each Family concert is specially themed for kids, with pre-concert activities including our popular instrument petting zoo. "  To be honest, that doesn't really sell how cool the series is.  I learned about this series from my participation in the 501st.  Several years ago the Phoenix Symphony contacted us because one of their family concerts was "The Music of John Willliams" and they asked us to show up for the Star Wars portion.  They do a wonderful job gearing this for kids.  The music is interesting and the concerts are short.  Our two kids were pretty upset at having to spend a Saturday afternoon away from the TV and the Wii.  They were pretty sure they were going to hate the symphony.  About half way through they were clapping and smiling and completely into it.

This particular concert was called "Celtic Fiddlin'" and despite the somewhat goofy name was fantastic.  Obviously the music centered around the music of Scotland along with Nova Scotia and other traditions that are spin offs from the Scottish culture.  I was surprised at how much I got out of it  While they certainly gear the length of concerts and the pace of the music toward keeping kids interested, it's still a a great experience for Trudy and I as well.  We got to see Natalie MacMaster perform along with the Symphony. Truthfully I had never heard of her before, but I was in love with the music before the concert was over.  When we got home, I immediately looked her up on iTunes and purchased Natalie MacMaster The Collection, a 2-disc set which seems to contain most of her work.  Currently I'm enjoying "Get Me Through December" (Sung by Allison Kraus) which is about as beautiful and mournful a song as I've ever heard.  "If Ever You Were Mine" is also a piece I can listen to over and over again.  Go check out the samples on iTunes and if you like it get it.  It's a great album.

When the symphony let out, we had had so much fun together as a family that we didn't really feel like going home.  I decided to take Luke to a comic store and buy him some comics but while there we discovered we were right next to Haus Murphy's, a German restaurant/pub that feels as though you really have gone back to Europe when you walk through the door.  They've won Best of Phoenix several times.  What a great choice for dinner!  We had ever imaginable type of German food (a sampler platter recommended by our awesome waiter) and our kids who normally hate anything new tried it all.  We talked about traveling back to Europe and having adventures there.  We talked about the Alps and foods from around the continent.  We laughed and Trudy and the kids enjoyed sharing my bread pudding desert.  For those that don't know, bread pudding is served hot so it was hilarious to watch Luke (who normally won't put anything above room temperature in his mouth) stuff heaping gobs of steaming hot bread pudding in his mouth and then squint his eyes and tremble against the heat.  In the battle between the pain of a burnt tongue and the sugar hit of bread pudding, the later wins in Luke's case.  Right before we left two older gentleman appeared, one with a tuba and the other with an accordion.  They commenced playing German folk songs to us as we sat at our table.  It was awesome!  When finished, the tuba player asked Molly if she'd like to see where the music comes from.  He lowered the bell of the tuba into her face and of course she looked into the dark hole.  He then produced a resounding low end "blat" that made Molly squeal and the rest of the restaurant laugh.  Soon thereafter every little boy in the place was asking to "see where the music comes from".  Although scared for life from embarrassment, princess Molly is resting comfortably as we speak as is expected to recover soon :)

When we got home we decided that we hadn't had enough imaginary travel for one day so we moved from Nova Scotia and Scotland to Germany and from Germany to Austria as we popped in The Sound of Music.  I'm ashamed to say that I had never seen the movie from start to finish and I'm happy that I finally have.  The kids loved it.  And for the first time in a long time they told voluntarily thanked us for how much fun they had that day.  That was a very new experience and most welcome change.  It's nice to know our kids aren't teenagers yet and thus actually enjoy time with us.

That was the end to one of the most rated G and completely memorable and fun days I've had in a long time.  It was great.

And to think I was obsessing over Metallica's new Death Magnetic album (which is f*$%ing brilliant I might add) for the last two weeks.

P.S. I'm too tired to figure out why I can no longer add hyperlinks to text.  Here are two links you need to click on:
1) Natalie MacMaster:
http://www.amazon.com/Collection-Natalie-MacMaster/dp/B000LP4O2O/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1221981436&sr=8-2

2) Best of New Times for Haus Murphy's
http://www.phoenixnewtimes.com/bestof/2007/award/best-german-restaurant-26492/

I decided to give MarsEdit2 from red-sweater a test drive. It purports to make your posting life easier and to be honest I am actually lazy enough that using .Text's interface is enough to keep me from posting. Perhaps this will increase my desire to post? If you look up and see the next post with a post date one year from this one you'll know it didn't work ;)

I had two things cross my desk yesterday that alternately made me chuckle and shake my head.  One is this article from the BBC about how Mitt Romney is going to announce his candidacy for President of the United States.  The other is about how a plurality of Britons believe that religion does more harm than good. 

 

Before I say anything negative about the Mitt Romney piece let me just say that I’m grateful to the writer (Justin Webb) for being positive and fair about the LDS church.  It’s easy to mock the church based on its more eccentric doctrines and intentionally overlook its central theme that a) Christ is the son of God b) families are the most important societal building block and should be cared for and maintained with the highest priority.  Both of those things were covered pretty well by the piece.  But I had to chuckle at the tone in which the truth was delivered

 

“But here is a big difference between Mormons and other American evangelists - Mormons do not feel threatened by science…

 

…They are not enemies of the rational world - they are not creationists.

 

And on human conduct they tend to stress setting personal examples rather than getting the state to enforce religious rules.”

 

All true.  And maybe it’s just me but through the entire article I got a sense of “And I was shocked to find that they weren’t dullards or bigots.” 

 

Then I read this article on how most Britons believe that religion does more harm than good. 

 

“Eighty-two percent of the 1,006 adults questioned for the left-leaning Guardian newspaper in the run up to Christmas said they saw religion as a cause of division and tension between people compared to 16 percent who disagreed.”

 

And I just scratch my head.  Have these 825 people been to church?  Have they sat down and had a rational discussion with people who do believe?  And would they maybe be as shocked as the writer who wrote the Mitt Romney piece if they did? 

 

I don’t wear my religion on my sleeve.  I have my doubts and fears and I’ve certainly failed a few tests of faith.  But, and perhaps this is because of my proximity to the LDS church, I’ve never believed that religion does more harm than good and I’ve never been shocked to meet rational people who also believe in God.  Based on actual discussions with real people I have to conclude that most who believe that religion “does more harm than good” would be just as surprised as Mr. Webb if they had a good long discussion with those that do.  In other words, “religion does more harm than good” is a meme at this point.  It’s starting point for people who haven’t bothered to really meet those who do believe and understand them.  Or even read a little history for that matter.  Unfortunately, from my personal experience, this leads to the kind of bigotry, hatred and raving lunacy that most of these people are purportedly against.  In reality, they’ve just reserved it for an easy target, a caricature of Oral Roberts or Jim Baker that they’ve unfairly stapled to the face of true belief.

 

For the religious the mysticism of worship and the rational world are not two different things.  For the religious the edification of the spirit can be found in the relatively mundane event of a child’s birth.  Spiritual fulfillment comes in pondering a baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes and held in his mother’s arms.  What could be more natural than that?  What could be more sanctified?

 

May we all remember that tomorrow as the wrapping paper flies and the roast beast is cut. Me most of all.

 

-Neil

When I was about 13 or so I met a young man who was part of a born again Christian church.  He invited me to come to church so I did and ultimately that led to me spending a few weeks up in northern Arizona at a Christian Summer camp. 

One day several boys decided to disappear off into the woods and a few of us followed them.  We hiked for what I would guess was only a mile or two and then quite suddenly the trail dropped off into a ravine that was about 30’-40’ deep.  Strung above the ravine was a thick cord of a wire and on the wire was a pulley with a steel loop under it and a long rope tied through the loop.  One of the older boys grabbed the rope, hiked down into the ravine pulling on it as he went, slowly guiding the pulley to the other side of the ravine.  He hiked up, took off his shirt running it through the same loop the rope was tied to.  He then slid his wrists through the openings in his shirt meant for his arms, rotated the fabric a few times so as to pull the fabric tight up against his forearms and without warning he leapt off of the launch boulder at the edge of the ravine.  The pulley buzzed to life and he flew, swinging his legs in unison front to back, out over that deep scar in the ground, tapping the tops of trees with his legs as he passed and landing safely back on our side of the divide.

I was enthralled.  I was terrified of the drop but I was totally drawn into that idea of really feeling what it must be like to fly.  So of course I had to do it. 

And I did it over and over and over.  In fact, as the sun went down and most of the other boys had left I was still doing it.  Something about zipping out through nothingness and seeing the earth so far below your two feet was intoxicating and I was addicted.  I decided to go for it one last time.  I was alone but I knew the way back and I just had to do it one more time.  So I scrambled down into that ravine for possibly the 20^th time that day.  At the bottom there was a small stream and I was unable to avoid getting my feet wet because the ravine had grown dark and I couldn’t find the path I had been taking to avoid the stream.  I could only pick my way through it using the dim degrees of grey to black which represented various trees, stones and underbrush in the shadowy netherworld of the ravine.    In short it was dark.  By the time I got to the top I was scared.  There was no way I would be able to pick my way back to the other side because now the sun had gone down below the horizon,  Even the sunset afterglow had faded to a dark purple.  There was no choice left but to run the zip line again, in the dark. 

I had done this a lot that day.  But standing on the launch boulder and tipping slightly at the waist to ready my hands I felt slightly dizzy.  I knew the chasm was yawning under me and that if I didn’t get it right I’d plummet down and die.

And then a thought occurred to me.  Actually it really wasn’t a thought.  It was feeling, an alarm that had nothing to do with rational thought.  It was the distinct and undeniable alert that prey feels when in the proximity of its predator, my genetic memory telling me to get the hell out.  Something was watching me.  Something was right behind me.  And in a spurt of irrationality and terror I jumped off that boulder not knowing if I had secured my hands and not even thinking about the fact that I might plummet to my death.  I was sure something was right behind me in the dark and it wanted to hurt me.  No more than second (probably less) after I jumped I heard a low and guttural grunt from my left, a deep snarl that scared me so badly I didn’t have the capacity to scream.  My body erupted in gooseflesh and the fear I felt made me so alert I felt as though time slowed a bit.  I felt like was capable of seeing everything at once, if that makes any sense. 

My hands had been secured and a few moments later I landed on the other side of the ravine.  I whipped my hands out as fast as I could, feeling distinctly like the horror show heroine who fumbles desperately for her car keys at the lock as the machete wielding maniac approaches from behind.  Somehow I got my hand out and I ran.  I ran as fast I could and I didn’t stop until I got back to the large play field at the edge of the camp. 

Did this all actually happen?  Yes.  At least, I think I know it happened.  To put it another way, I’m not making it up.  I did stand on top of that rock in the darkness and fumble for my hand holds.  I did jump off that rock because I was terrified that there was something behind me and intent on eating me.  I did land on the other side and I did run for camp fueled by a terror I hadn’t ever felt until that point in my life. 

But was there really something there?  Did I really hear the grunt or did my mind supply the grunt as motivation or justification for jumping?  I’m not sure.  I’ve never been sure and I’ll never be sure.  But I believe it was there.  I know I’m not lying or making this up.  I know it happened as best I can and that’s all I’ll ever have.

The story behind The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon is simple.  9 year old Trisha McFarland gets lost in the deep woods off of the Appalachian trail.  She struggles with all the problems any human would in the same situation. No food, no shelter and existing in that distinctly silent world of the woods where, after a few moments of deep stillness you realize that you're an outsider in a land that could eat you up and forget you.  And where they wouldn't even find the bones.

Weaved into this story is Trisha and her father’s shared love of baseball and her crush on the Red Sox closing pitcher, Tom Gordon.  About the time that Trisha realizes that she has her walkman in her pack and can listen to Sox games (“yeah baby!”), she also realizes that she is being stalked by something dark and terrible.  Is it denizen of the woods?  Is it something far worse?  Is it simply a result of the slow hallucinations that may or may not be setting in due to fever, hunger and pain?

As the story moves forward it changes from one of simple to survival to a metaphor about how the things we find inspiration in can save us when we face the things we fear the most.  It takes time in life to realize that, as the book puts it, “The world had teeth and it could bite you with them any time it wanted”.  How we react defines us. 

This is a damn good book which seems to get better the more time passes and the more I think about it.  Read it if you can.  It’s short and well worth the effort.