George!

Awesome tribute to George Washington on his birthday from Sheila. She’s excerpted several fine descriptions of Washington as a man and a leader from those close to him, and from his own words, that are both humbling and inspiring.

Could there ever be another like him?

Thomas Jefferson on George Washington:

The moderation and virtue of a single character probably prevented this Revolution from being closed, as most others have been, by a subversion of that liberty it was intended to establish.

Martha Washington wrote a letter to a relative on the eve of her husband’s departure to the Convention in 1774:

I foresee consequences; dark days and darker nights; domestic happiness suspended; social enjoyments abandoned; property of every kind put in jeopardy by war, perhaps; neighbors and friends at variance, and eternal separations on earth possible. But what are all these evils when compared with the fate of which the Port Bill may be only a threat? My mind is made up; my heart is in the cause. George is right; he is always right. God has promised to protect the righteous, and I will trust him.

Does this sound like anyone we know?

Nancy at Fritinancy (formerly Away With Words) touches on the Divine:

But enough about Patty. Let’s talk about the dog. Specifically, the dog’s name. On paper she’s “Shann’s Legally Blonde.” But she picks up her ears and smiles a doggy smile when you call her “Diva.”

Then again, who doesn’t? Once upon a time, the term (which means “goddess” in Italian) was applied highly selectively, and with all due respect, to opera megastars such as Maria Callas. These days, everyone with a pair of X chromosomes is a diva. We’re so democratic! Divacratic, even.

Nancy, who makes a living by naming and helping to brand new products, goes on to list a series of Diva-centric product names (not all that I’d care to reprint here). A sampling:

Zappos, the online shoe store, features four pages of shoes code-named Diva, including the Gel-Dirt Diva 2 running shoe and the Diaper Dude Divas Diaper Bag. (Divas do diapers?)

“The Diva” is Old Navy’s name for its lowest-rise jeans.

Diva Furniture sells furniture in Los Angeles and Seattle.

Viva Diva, a clothing boutique not far from where I live, gets points for rhyming.

Diva Espresso, which has four Seattle locations, gets points for referring to itself as “she” (“Diva paid her growing-pains dues…”).

Surf Diva offers surfing lessons in San Diego.

Then there’s the sisterhood of blogging divas: Cooking Diva, Techie Diva (pink! pink! pink!), Retail Design Diva (which had a nice post a few months ago on why store mannequins no longer smile).

What, no Mall Diva? Perhaps she’s lost her Diva cred? Maybe she needs to take the Are You a Diva? quiz or the What Decade Diva Are You? test.

Everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance

This evening was another late getaway away from the office in the dark, this time so late that all my favorite radio programs were already off the air for my “drive-time.” Bummer. Plus it was cold. Damn cold. As I drove along an almost deserted street in the direction of St. Paul, I was surprised to see a train making it’s way in the cold, dark night across the battered concrete bridge over Hennepin at 18th Avenue. Though it was a diesel engine, not steam, the frosty air nevertheless produced white clouds and in that moment I was suddenly transported — or “trains-ported” — into a black and white photo that could have been done by O. Winston Link himself. Not only that, I was transported back to another time in my life, and another time in our country’s history. What I saw tonight looked very nearly like this, minus the swimmers:

My grandfather was kind of a nut about steam locomotives. He even worked for awhile as a fireman on a steam train during World War II, though that challenging experience apparently didn’t sour him on the big engines. Some 25 years ago I happened to read an article about O. Winston Link, a photographer who had set out in the 1950s to capture in the disappearing trains of the Norfolk & Western line, the last steam-powered railroad in the U.S. Photographing trains presented more than a few technical problems, such as lighting. As Link said, “You can’t move the sun, and you can’t move the tracks, so you have to do something else to better light the engines.” As a result he created a sequenced flash lighting system that he would painstakingly set out along the tracks hours in advance to get a shot with his 4 x 5 Graphic camera. Naturally, most of his shots were at night, creating some of the most evocative records of a bygone era. The article I read mentioned that a book of Link’s N&W train photos, entitled “Ghost Trains”, had been produced, and I knew instantly that I had to track down a copy for my grandfather.

This was way-back in the days before Amazon.com, or even much public awareness of the Internet. I followed some clues in the article, made some calls, wired some money and in a couple weeks’ time I owned a handsome, half-tabloid sized paperback of Link’s best photos. Plus — bonus! — a thin recording on vinyl of the sound of two steam trains plying their trade across the valley. Link was a gifted technician who had also been able to make several high-quality sound recordings of the locomotives that fascinated him so. My grandfather would insist on playing the floppy record for me, and I can see him sitting in his chair, his eyes closed, his head slightly cocked with that crooked grin of his as the trains chugged and hooted from his stereo. Something about the sound just suggested a cold, snowy night, and how good it felt to be warm and snug inside while our machines soldiered on.

Trains have always been about getting from one place to another. Sometimes it’s a raw display of intimidating force, and other times a surprisingly delicate balance of momentum, mass and friction. As my grandfather learned over the course of many hard lessons, there was as much art as there was science to getting a steam locomotive to operate at its best and to come to your hand. And like grandfathers, you can easily take them for granted and then one day they’re gone. Yes, trains are about taking you from one place to another, and sometimes you don’t even need to get on board.

When my grandfather died, the only thing I asked for was the book.

Here are a couple of O. Winston Link’s better known photos, but by all means visit the link above to view a slide show from this great American artist, or here to see even more images. Here’s another interesting resource for where you can buy images and recordings.

Punked

I felt better this morning so I went to work. A mistake, I think. I was still getting alternate waves of chills and heat, and back-breaking coughing and sneezing despite my cold drugs. Some things still had to be done, however, so I isolated myself as much as I could from others and cranked on emails and conference calls till I could go home. I may have overdone it, though — I’m very, very tired and feeling kind of punk. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

An off day on my day off

My fingers feel like they’re the size of bananas, my tongue feels like leather, my throat like I’ve been gargling razor blades and I think I’ve separated three of my ribs with my violent coughing. I had some plans for what to do with my President’s Day holiday, but I’ve mostly moved from one couch to another with a blanket and a box of tissues while drifting in and out of some weird dreams.

Yuck.

Oh, before I forget

Last Friday was the third “birthday” of this blog. Wow, talk about time flying by, and in that time there have been 1,028 posts, totaling more than 530,000 words. So, yes, I could easily have written a book during this time, though it should be noted that Tiger Lilly, the Mall Diva and the Reverend Mother have contributed some words as well. There’s also been more than 133,000 visitors according to Site Meter. I have to say I’m surprised by all those numbers, especially since I generally don’t have any idea what I’m going to post about from one day to the next (or even if I’m going to have a chance to post from one day to the next).

The discipline has been good for me, though the main reason I’ve kept it up is that it is so much fun and because of the wonderful people I’ve been able to meet (including a prospective son-in-law). It’s been a great hobby, and one I’m planning on continuing. I’m even thinking about a new look which you may see shortly. I’ve also gained a lot of confidence in my writing over the past three years, to the point where I’m seriously thinking about making some money at this. No, not in terms of blogads, but in using some of the posts here as samples to pitch articles or essays to publications. In preparation for that I’ve been going back through all the posts and categorizing them in greater detail for easier access (you may have noticed a much longer category list on the right side of this page). I’m about a third of the way through this process and then I’ll turn my attention to a new look.

By the way, for the past three months I’ve gotten two or three emails a day from Go Daddy reminding me that my domain was due to be renewed (quite a change from last year’s fiasco with Registerfly). Naturally I was fully aware of this and intended to renew but I deliberately was stringing this out as my own personal protest against Go Daddy’s Super Bowl ads. Then last week I got a call at work from a GD customer service rep wanting to know if it was my intention to let my domain lapse. I wasn’t expecting such diligence, but it was a great opportunity for me to explain why I had been delaying. The rep was a bit taken aback, but apologized and said that he would pass my concerns up the line. So I’ve got that going for me.

Anyway, thanks for stopping by.

Picture this: Yes

Saturday morning we had our Inside Outfitters men’s meeting with men from a couple of other churches and a large contingent from Minnesota Teen Challenge. During the worship part of the meeting we sang with an abridged version of the song “Yes” by Shekinah Glory.

Will your heart and soul say “yes”?
Will your spirit say yes?
If I told you what I really mean,
would your heart and soul say “yes”?

It’s a song that moves slowly and deeply, giving one a chance to either sing along or meditate on the words as they minister.

There is more that I require of of you,
Will your spirit still say, “yes”?

For such a long time in my life my answer was always “No.”

Later I came around to where I said, “I don’t know.”

Eventually, in many areas of my life I said, “Yes” — to great effect.

Why then, in too many other areas, do I say, “Yes……but”?

Filings: Red Hot Secrets of Romance

by the Night Writer

Where is it written in the Bible that guys have to be romantic? I mean, really, give me a scripture. I checked, and my concordance must be the Strong’s Silent Type, because the word “romantic” doesn’t appear once. Yet our culture tells us that women want men to be “r
omantic”, which usually means tender, sensitive and – oh yeah – dead.

In so many romantic movie by the time the credits are rolling over the last rays of poignant lighting, the guy is dead. As they might say in the Romance languages: Finito. Morte. Cold as a mackerel (like the guy in Titanic).

Why does it have to be like that? Well, I put down my Strong’s and picked up my Funk & Wagnall. It lists the definition of romance as “the character or nature of that which appears strange and fascinating, heroic, chivalrous…” and “a form of idealistic prose fiction distinguished from the novel or tale because it does not bind itself to reality…”

Well, there you have it: Romance is a fiction. The guy has to die at the end or otherwise ride off into the sunset or else reality will set in and the whole thing ultimately falls apart. You think women will pay to see a movie 17 times if turns out the knight leaves his shining armor laying around on the floor, or likes to spend his afternoons watching the jousts and scratching himself? ‘Tis a far, far better thing that he die nobly than live on and spoil the fantasy. That’s why most of what is considered “romantic” in our culture is really just a bunch of manipulative fluff that’s meant to sell something (or some philosophy).

There is an essential truth in all that, however: you really do have to die.

Earlier I challenged you to give me a scripture that mentions romance. I don’t think you’ll find one, but you will find an example of someone laying down his life for his bride. Ephesians 5:25 commands us to “love our wives as Christ loves the church.” He gave himself up, and we are to do the same.

Now I’d guess most of us, if it came right down to it, would be willing to take a bullet for our wives. The real question is, “But will you let her have the last doughnut?” It’s one thing to lay down your life in a blaze of glory like in the movies, but it’s a lot more difficult (and even more romantic) to do it day in, day out by putting someone else’s needs ahead of our own. Perhaps at some time or another you’ve heard the phrase, “C’mon, would it kill you to show a little consideration?” And the answer to that, honestly, is “yes.” It does kill us in so much as we lay aside our will, our pride, our way of doing things in order to reach out to her in a way that is meaningful to her.

We die a little when we put down the newspaper to ask her about her day; when we go out of our way to do something to make her day or her life easier; when we take her concerns and input into consideration in making a joint decision. Is it one-sided? Well, it can be, but it’s been my experience and observation that these activities are very much included in the laws of sowing and reaping, and the harvest usually comes pretty fast. Furthermore, if we are to take Christ as our model, we see that he laid down his life for us first without concern for what he would get back (in fact, even knowing that there would be many who would not accept his sacrifice).

He did it, the scripture says, to make us (the church) holy. One of the definitions of “holy” is “to be set apart.” We demonstrate that our wives are holy to us by treating them in a way that shows we value them more than any relationship in our lives other than God. Instead of taking them for granted because we’re around them so much, we put extra effort into their well-being precisely because we are around them so much. Yes, it will cost us everything – and it will pay back more than we can ever imagine.

Celibate, celibate, dance to the music!

LaShawn Barber excerpted the following review of the latest Lenny Kravitz album from Blogcritics today:

At 43, Lenny Kravitz is more self-reflective than usual.

He recently spoke to Maxim magazine about his newly declared sexual abstinence, “a promise I made until I get married.” Sex-free for the past three years, Kravitz wants more than just a physical connection. “I’m looking at the big picture.”

Relishing the satisfaction that can result from practicing self-discipline in a gratify-me-now culture, the four-time Grammy winner told Australia’s Herald Sun that abstinence “frees you from a lot of things and it also takes a lot of power away from people who are trying to seduce you… Ultimately I’m trying to do the right thing, to honour myself and the other person and honour God.”

I’m heading over to iTunes now to check it out.

Let them eat dirt

Buffy Holt points out a sad state of affairs:

PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti (AP) — It was lunchtime in one of Haiti’s worst slums, and Charlene Dumas was eating mud. With food prices rising, Haiti’s poorest can’t afford even a daily plate of rice, and some take desperate measures to fill their bellies. Charlene, 16 with a 1-month-old son, has come to rely on a traditional Haitian remedy for hunger pangs: cookies made of dried yellow dirt from the country’s central plateau.

“When my mother does not cook anything, I have to eat them three times a day,” Charlene said. Her baby, named Woodson, lay still across her lap, looking even thinner than the slim 6 pounds 3 ounces he weighed at birth.

Food prices around the world have spiked because of higher oil prices, needed for fertilizer, irrigation and transportation. Prices for basic ingredients such as corn and wheat are also up sharply, and the increasing global demand for biofuels is pressuring food markets as well.

The problem is particularly dire in the Caribbean, where island nations depend on imports and food prices are up 40 percent in places.

The global price hikes, together with floods and crop damage from the 2007 hurricane season, prompted the U.N. Food and Agriculture Agency to declare states of emergency in Haiti and several other Caribbean countries. Caribbean leaders held an emergency summit in December to discuss cutting food taxes and creating large regional farms to reduce dependence on imports.

At the market in the La Saline slum, two cups of rice now sell for 60 cents, up 10 cents from December and 50 percent from a year ago. Beans, condensed milk and fruit have gone up at a similar rate, and even the price of the edible clay has risen over the past year by almost $1.50. Dirt to make 100 cookies now costs $5, the cookie makers say.

Still, at about 5 cents apiece, the cookies are a bargain compared to food staples. About 80 percent of people in Haiti live on less than $2 a day and a tiny elite controls the economy.

Buffy says this makes her feel ashamed. Personally, it makes me angry. Historically, famines are caused by politics more than they are by nature and are generally localized. Politics is a driving force in this famine as well, and its effects could cross many borders.

It’s one thing for us to be inconvenienced by the higher costs and irritated by the short-sighted (at best) or well-meaning evil of the environmentalists and ag-lobbyists — cheered on by a righteous and fawning media — as they lead legislators around by the gold ring they’ve inserted in their noses while everyone in the parade has their hand out and palms up like silk-clad beggars, all while chiding the non-believers for being the blind ones. So what, we pay a bit more for our gas, our groceries, all while our freedom is picked from our pockets. At least we’re not reduced to eating dirt — yet.

It’s all clean and neat here, while thousands of miles away, almost out of sight, real beggars are feeling the true effects of the game. Like cracking a whip, the ripple of these policies curls out almost unnoticed until you get to the end where the lash snaps and falls. Not everyone is blind to what’s going on, however. As I wrote before, Oxfam International has already noted the consequences

“Decisions on biofuels made in Europe are directly affecting millions of people in Indonesia. In the relentless pursuit of biofuel gold, big powerful palm oil companies are callously clearing communities from land they have farmed for generations, workers and small holders are shamefully exploited and we are losing valuable agricultural land to grow the food we need to feed ourselves and make a living. The proposed EU policy will only make this worse – pushing more people into poverty and concentrating land in the hands of a few.”

Additionally, as Wired notes:

Studies Say Biofuels Worse Than Gasoline
When all relevant factors are accounted for, biofuels produce more greenhouse gas emissions than fossil fuels.

So conclude two studies published yesterday in Science*, adding to a growing body of research suggesting that crop-based fuels, once hailed as a clean answer to oil, are not a magic green bullet.

Biofuels seemed so promising at first — what could be cleaner than running our cars and factories on plants? But early prognostications were a bit thin on details. They didn’t always account for the energy that would be needed to grow, harvest and refine the fuels. Most importantly, they didn’t consider that greenhouse gas-gobbling vegetation would need to be cleared for fuel crops — or, if these were planted on existing pastures, that new fields would be cleared to make space for displaced food crops.

[*Note: here (funded by the National Science Foundation an the University of Minnesota) and here. NW]

Closer to home, Tom Meersman of the Star Tribune has written a couple of articles recently that pick up on the same information. An excerpt Ethanol: More harm than good (Feb. 7) reports:

But a growing number of scientists are questioning the ecological benefits of biofuels. A policy report last month by the British Royal Society indicated that biofuels have been described as “carbon neutral,” meaning that the carbon they emit to the atmosphere when burned is offset by the carbon that plants absorb from the atmosphere while growing.

The problem is that those benefits assume the world can turn large amounts of crops into biofuels, the report said, without needing to use more land to make up for lost food production. Clearing tropical forests and growing crops on natural peat lands in Malaysia, Indonesia and elsewhere “risk releasing enough greenhouse gases to negate any of the intended future climate benefits,” the report said.

The reason for scientists’ concern, said Tilman, is that soil and plants hold three times more carbon than air. Clearing trees to grow more corn or bulldozing tropical forests to grow more sugarcane emits large amounts of carbon dioxide, either quickly through the burning of the wood, or more gradually through the decomposition of carbon stored in plants and soil.

Tilman calculated that converting natural ecosystems to raise corn or sugarcane for ethanol, or soybeans or palms for biodiesel, will release 17 to 420 times more carbon than the annual savings from replacing fossil fuels. The Minnesota study estimated that in the United States, it will take 93 years for the carbon losses from plowing one acre of healthy grassland to equal the carbon savings from corn-based ethanol produced on that land.

Ethanol industry officials downplay the effects, saying that the process will become more efficient over time and that other organic resources will also be used to take pressure off of fuel crops. I wonder, however, what will replace all the groundwater sucked out of the earth to produce ethanol, as Meersman reported in Is ethanol tapping too much water? (Jan. 28):

With a flood of ethanol plants headed toward Minnesota, there’s growing concern about whether there will be enough groundwater to satisfy the booming industry’s thirst.

The issue was brought into focus last year in Granite Falls, where an ethanol plant in its first year of operations depleted the groundwater so much that it had to begin pumping water from the Minnesota River.

It takes between four and five gallons of water to produce a gallon of ethanol at a biofuel plant, and with 17 ethanol plants now operating in the state, six under construction and 10 more proposed or in the planning stages, the threat of more drains on underground water are rising…

The industry is consuming about 2 billion gallons of groundwater per year, according to state estimates.

That amount could quadruple by 2011 if the state’s ethanol production more than doubles, as expected.

I wonder how many mud pies that much water could make? Finally, another article in Wired, Can’t See the Forest for the Biofuels, makes many of the same points and also notes:

Brazil has designated nearly half a billion acres of forests, grassland and marshes as “degraded” areas suitable for conversion to farming. While the entire Alaska-sized area won’t be cleared, much of it could be planted with soybeans, the staple of that country’s biofuel efforts.

Half a billion acres? That’s 500 million acres in just one country, being sacrificed to “save” the earth. It must be the same scientific reasoning that once said bleeding a patient was a good way to cure him. Meanwhile, 500 million acres is 250,000 times the size of the 2,000 acres (out of 19.5 million) in ANWR considered too precious to allow oil drilling (though those 2,000 acres will yield an assessed 10 billion barrels of oil. Just a little food for thought, especially if you don’t like dirt cookies.