Category Archives: Night Writer

Blogging before there were blogs

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“And though nobody should read me, have I wasted time in entertaining myself so many idle hours in so pleasing and useful thoughts? In moulding this figure upon myself, I have been so often constrained to temper and compose myself in a right posture, that the copy is truly taken, and has in some sort formed itself; painting myself for others, I represent myself in a better colouring than my own natural complexion. I have no more made my book than my book has made me: ’tis a book consubstantial with the author, of a peculiar design, a parcel of my life, and whose business is not designed for others, as that of all other books is.”



— Michel de Montaigne



Today’s Writer’s Almanac reports the birthday of Michel de Montaigne, the literary creator of relatively short, written personal observations that he called “essays”:



It’s the birthday of the great essayist Michel de Montaigne, born in Périgueux, France (1533). His father was a wealthy landowner. Montaigne went off to college and became a lawyer, but his father died when Montaigne was 38 years old. And so he retired to the family estate and took over managing the property. And it was there that he began to write. He wrote short pieces on various topics, and he called them “essays,” because the French word “essai” means attempt.



He lived at a time when religious civil wars were breaking out all over the country — Protestants and Catholics killing each other. The Black Plague was ravaging the peasants in his neighborhood; he once saw men digging their own graves and then lying down to die in them. Still, while he occasionally wrote about big subjects like hatred and death, he also wrote about the most ordinary things, like his gardening or the way radishes affected his digestion. He wrote about sadness, idleness, liars, fear, smell, prayer, cannibals, and thumbs, among other things.



Michel de Montaigne wrote, “The most certain sign of wisdom is cheerfulness.”



Many modern bloggers follow the same model, offering personal observations on faith, politics (modern cannibalism) and people digging their own graves, mixed with gardening tips and cat-blogging, which de Montaigne also invented: “When I play with my cat, who knows whether she isn’t amusing herself with me more than I am with her?”

Two Mexicos, two stories

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There’s in interesting confluence between Chad the Elder’s post today on Fraters Libertas and an article in the Washington Times, also from today. The globe-trotting Chad, currently in Chihuahua, recounts a rant by his Mexican host describing the “two Mexicos” and his opinion that the Mexicans working in the U.S. are not the same as those back home:



“Let me tell you something; they’re not real Mexicans. You see, there are two Mexicos. This…us…here…THIS is the real Mexico. Them? They’re not really Mexican.”



Those in the States may be different, but they are a significant percentage of the population, according to the Times article: more than 10 percent of the Mexican population is currently in the U.S., including more than 14 percent of the country’s workforce, and they send home $23 billion a year. Nevertheless, some of those back home are lonely:



Mexican wives want U.S. to return husbands

By Stephen Dinan

THE WASHINGTON TIMES

February 26, 2007



The women of Tecalpulco, Mexico, want the U.S. government to enforce its immigration laws because they want to force their husbands to come back home from working illegally in the United States.



They have created an English-language Web page where they identify themselves as the “wetback wives” and broadcast their pleas, both to their men and to the U.S. government.



“To the United States government — close the border, send our men home to us, even if you must deport them (only treat them in a humane manner — please do not hurt them),” it reads.



In poignant public messages to their husbands, the women talk about their children who feel abandoned, and worry that the men have forsaken their families for other women and for the American lifestyle.



“You said you were only going to Arizona to get money for our house, but now you have been away and did not come back when your sister got married,” one woman writes to a man named Pedro. “Oh how I worry that you have another woman! Don’t you love me? You told me you love me.”



It’s a stark reminder of an often forgotten voice in the U.S. immigration debate — the wives, children, parents and villages left behind as millions of workers come to the U.S., many of them illegally. The plea also underscores the dual effects of migration on Mexico: Its economy needs American jobs as an outlet for workers, but determined, able-bodied workers get siphoned out of Mexico.



More than 10 million Mexican-born people, or nearly one out of every 10, was living in the United States in 2005. And as a percentage of the work force it’s even higher: One in seven, or 14 percent, were here, according to the Migration Policy Institute. The institute said 77 percent of Mexican workers in the U.S. were younger than 45, and 70 percent were men.



Villages devoid of men between 20 and 50 are common in many parts of the country. The stories of single mothers struggling to raise their children are just as frequent.



…



But for now, Mexico is also addicted to the influx of cash. In 2006, Mexican workers in the United States sent $23 billion back to their families in Mexico, an amount that rivals Mexico’s foreign income from oil sales.



All in all, it sounds like a theme that can turn Kevin Ecker into a “family values” guy.


Breaking up is hard to do

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The young woman sat across from me, looking a little nervous or, perhaps, just excited and not wanting to let it show too much. “You’re not meeting my needs,” she said, “and I can’t go on like this. Plus, there’s this other guy…and I think we’re going to be very happy together.”

Well, actually she didn’t say that exactly, but that’s kind of the way it sounded. Moments before she’d shown up with that “We need to talk” look, and handed me The Envelope. It was clean, white and absolutely neutral in all things but I knew in a single heart-stopping instant what it was, and what it meant. Guys always talk about how it came “out of the blue” or that they “didn’t have a clue”, but the fact is, deep down, we all sense that it’s just a matter of time. I knew what was coming; the sleepless nights, distracted conversations, morose pity-parties, the random outbursts, perhaps even some heavy drinking. But that was all ahead; first things first. “Have a seat,” I said, glad that I was already sitting down.

What she really said, in more or less this order, was “There are no opportunities for me here, and I have to make a career move.” And that “other guy”? It was another company, offering more money and more opportunities. Yes, this all took place at work a couple of weeks ago when my sole staff person handed me her letter of resignation and two weeks’ notice. Our relationship was all business, but after six years together it was hard for her announcement not to take on some “break-up” overtones, and also hard for it not to feel a little like a personal rejection. Oh, sure, there were the “it’s been fun, I learned a lot, I loved the company and didn’t want to leave” affirmations to soften the blow but also, maybe, just a hint that if only I’d “done” something it wouldn’t have come to this. Or maybe that’s just my perception based on manager’s guilt (I’ll let you know after therapy).

It was inevitable, however. My particular division in this global company is very profitable but pretty flat in terms of organizational structure, and while she was a top performer who had taken on more and more responsibilities over the years there really wasn’t much opportunity for advancement, especially since my absent-mindedness hasn’t (so far) extended to crossing the street without first looking both ways. Oh well, at least we can still be friends, right?

Anyway, my workload has leapt substantially as I try to manage my own projects plus all the other things our unit is responsible for, while also trying to hire a new person or devise a rational way to farm the responsibilities out to others. Along with that, of course, my phone is ringing off the hook, emails are piling in, and people are popping their head in my office saying, “I tried to call you — why aren’t you answering your phone?” While I was talking to one such person standing in my doorway today, another walked by behind him, pointed at me and did that thumb-and-pinky telephone pantomime.

I’ve got a strong suspicion that 9-to-5 ain’t going to get it done, at least for the next few weeks. I’m going to try to keep updating this blog on a daily basis because I enjoy it, but I make no guarantees that posts will be up to my usual standards, pitiable as these may be.

Forget rabbits, or even Muskrat Love

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A guinea pig called Sooty had a night to remember after escaping
from his pen and tunneling into a cage of 24 females.

He romanced each of them in turn and yesterday was the proud
father of 43 offspring.

Staff at Little Friends Farm in Pontypridd, South Wales,
have now secured Sooty’s pen – and begun looking for homes
for the guinea pigs.

His owner, Carol Feehan, said “I’m sure a lot of men will
be looking at Sooty with envy.”

“We knew he had gone missing after wriggling through the
bars of his cage. We looked everywhere but never thought
of checking the pen where we keep 24 females. We did a
head count and found 25 guinea pigs – Sooty was fast asleep
in the corner.

“He was absolutely shattered. We put him back in his pen
and he slept for two days.”

So Sooty’s a guinea pig? I wonder what they were testing on him — an ED drug … or perhaps a new aftershave?

Caption Contest: Write a caption for Sooty’s photo above and post it in the Comments. Examples: “Hey, Pretty Mama, have you lost weight?” or “Child support? What do you mean child support?”

(HT: Samantha Burns)

Filings: What sayest thou?

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A friend of mine offers this commentary to my recent post about Pastor Mac Hammond, Living Word Christian Center and CREW (Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington):

Are you saying the end justifies the means? That because Mac and the church have done good things we should look the other way? That it’s not anyone’s business if they’re lining their pockets by fleecing willing congregants who think every dollar gets them closer to the Kingdom of Heaven? In the Strib article, Hammond says, “It’s impossible to bless someone else or be a blessing if you have nothing to bless them with.” So better to have a jet than a schoolbus. Better to have a Lexus than a 1998 Taurus. Better to have a $500,000 retreat than some housekeeping cabins. It’s like Steve Martin in “The Jerk” . . . this is all I need. These condos in Florida, this Porsche, my kids on the payroll and so on. You seem to shrug and let him off the hook by saying if he is up to no good, he’ll be judged. If he is indeed running some kind of pseudo-religious Ponzi scheme, shouldn’t his actions be exposed to the light of day sooner than later, even if you disagree with the media outlet that’s holding the lantern?

Actually, what I was saying was that the timing and sudden interest the Strib took in Living Word and Mac Hammond’s message (which he has been preaching since 1980, and from the pulpit of his huge building since 1998) was more about the newspaper being offended by his politics than his doctrine, but that may just be a biased assumption on my part. Perhaps I should wait for more evidence than just a circumstantial connection between the stories the newspaper ran, the complaint filed by CREW, and Pastor Hammond’s public endorsement of a candidate much reviled by the Strib’s editorial board and left-leaning watchdog groups.

Perhaps, from my own experience I am too judgmental and suspicious of those watching out for us, of whom author Mark Helprin once wrote, “The dog who protects sheep quickly learns how to direct them, and it becomes a habit. The people have been trained by their watchmen to jump, and to trample what the watchmen want trampled.”* Hence, I can look at the situation and think, “Something smells fishy.”

Similarly, there may be those who will readily assume a pastor or a church is fleecing a “conned”-gregation into thinking it can buy its way into Heaven because the reported facts look suspicious, even if all that has been presented is a careful marshaling of facts and innuendo while the newspaper carefully avoids making any direct accusation of wrong-doing. Why wouldn’t someone reading the story think, regarding the church, that “Something smells fishy?”

So, obviously, there can be differences of opinion based on perspective. I will, however, address the underlying question in the comment above as well as the actual question asked at the end (while also indirectly responding to other comments on the original post).

I don’t claim to be a great Biblical scholar, but I do have more than a passing acquaintance with the so-called “Prosperity Gospel” attributed to Pastor Hammond (also known, less charitably, by critics as “name it and claim it”). I won’t issue a judgment on Hammond because, as I said before, I don’t know what he is actually preaching. I do know, however, from scripture and — most significantly to me — my own experience that material as well as spiritual blessings have overtaken my family and I because we give liberally (admittedly, about the only thing we do “liberally”). We have good incomes, a nice house, nice things, and we tithe off of everything we receive, and give a similar amount in alms and other offerings, and are still able to put aside money for the future. Other people may have bigger incomes, nicer houses, more things, etc. without being givers, but we have seen amazing (some might say miraculous) connections between what we’ve given and the things we’ve received. When we give thanks for our meals we often include 2 Corinthians 9:8, “God is able to give us everything we need to live life in abundance and to give into every good work.” Unlike the world, we’re not just receiving from those who we’ve given to or vice-versa.

Some might say we live too well. We could, I suppose, get by with a smaller home, even older cars and without that new HDTV and home theater system, and give the money to the poor (or pay even higher taxes). Yet in a smaller house we never would have been able to take in the people we’ve taken in over the years, or hold the home church meetings on Friday nights; our vehicles are used to get us and others to places we need to be in order to be a blessing; and I’m going to bring the boys from the Fundamentals in Film class into my basement to watch this week’s movie (ok, that last part may be because I want to see them jump when the artillery hits more than because I want to bless them).

Or we could have kept for ourselves all that we’ve given and, theoretically, have even more stuff. It may be counter-intuitive, but I don’t think so. Proverbs 11:24 says, “One man gives freely, yet gains even more; another withholds unduly, but comes to poverty.” Giving and receiving and giving again is how we live. It’s not the be-all and end-all of our “creed” but it is something we’ve tried to help others to apply in their lives. As Mac Hammond said, “It’s impossible to bless someone else or be a blessing if you have nothing to bless them with.” There are certainly times when warm thoughts, open arms and fervent prayers can be a tremendous blessing, but it’s also valuable to send someone off with a hot meal or a new coat on behalf of our Father who loves us and would not “give us a stone when we ask for bread.”

So, count me among those who think it is an important part of the Christian life to be a cheerful giver (see 2 Corinthians 9:7), and as someone who has seen it bear fruit in my life. Does Mac Hammond have more fruit in his life than me? Apparently. Does he deserve it? That’s between him and God and his congregation, and my opinion doesn’t enter into their relationship and, in fact, could hurt my own relationship with God. I have no idea what percentage of the money that comes in to Living Word goes to Mac Hammond and no interest or say in what he choses to spend it on because there is no accountability between the two of us. It would seem, however, that those who do have a mutual accountability with him are well satisfied with the arrangement.

It is certainly obvious what the church is doing with the bulk of the money. If you go to Living Word’s Outreach page there is an impressive list of ministries and programs to people of all social classes, and all around the world. Missions, schools, a thrift store, a rehab clinic, a Christian night club (where youth can be edified as well as entertained instead of being left to seductions of the culture), and much more, plus a large staff to minister and administer these things as well as to the the people who come into the church itself. There’s always the risk that Hammond and the church love money — or it could be that they love what the money can do.

Of course, newspapers, businesses and governments all love what money can do as well, and they ask for it all the time. Each of us, individually, also has a powerful appreciation for what money can do for us. Cultivating a proper attitude toward money and seeing it as our servant instead of our master is a challenge and stirs up strong emotions and reveals strongholds in our lives. I remember several years ago that a man left our church saying, “All they’re interested in is your money.” A little while later he was found to have been embezzling money from his business. Interesting what he thought he was hearing, isn’t it?

I know that it is common for certain ministries to ask for money by referring to the Parable of the Sower in Matthew 13:8, “some seeds fell on fertile (good) soil and produced a crop that was thirty, sixty, and even a hundred times as much as had been planted.” These ministries will say that they are “good soil” and worth supporting. I typically don’t give to these because Matthew 13:23 says that the “good soil” is our hearts that receive the word, not the ministry that receives the money. Further, if my heart is good, then even if I give to the wrong place I can still reap a benefit well out of proportion to what I’ve sown.

No doubt, as with any church, there are legitimate reasons for people not to like Mac Hammond and Living Word. They may be put off by the large size and prefer something more personal. They may find the teaching too different from what they are accustomed to, or too challenging to their own comfort zone. They may consider it completely heretical. They might turn out to be right, but I can be nonchalant about it and let Mac “off the hook” simply because I’m not the one with the hook in the first place. As Matthew 13:24 goes on to say:

Here is another story Jesus told: “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a farmer who planted good seed in his field. But that night as everyone slept, his enemy came and planted weeds among the wheat. When the crop began to grow and produce grain, the weeds also grew. The farmer’s servants came and told him, `Sir, the field where you planted that good seed is full of weeds!’

“`An enemy has done it!’ the farmer exclaimed. `Shall we pull out the weeds?’ they asked.

“He replied, `No, you’ll hurt the wheat if you do. Let both grow together until the harvest. Then I will tell the harvesters to sort out the weeds and burn them and to put the wheat in the barn.'”

God’s word is the seed and brings the wheat into our lives, though there might be enemies and weeds in and around it. When the time comes, the light from the fire that burns those weeds will overwhelm whatever feeble lantern might be trying to illuminate those weeds — and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be holding that lantern when it happens.
*From the chapter entitled “The Machine Age” in Winter’s Tale.

I am surrounded

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The HDTV guy finally showed up Friday afternoon to hook up the new dish and bring me into the 21st century. I’ve just spent my first weekend with 1080 resolution (whatever that is) and a surround-sound home theater. So, what did I watch?

Golf, mostly. The Nissan Open from Los Angeles was broadcast in HD by CBS, and the experience was amazing and especially heightened my enjoyment of watching Phil Mickelson kack up another tournament. (I don’t know what it is specifically about Mickelson — the smirk, the false sincerity, the ugly logos — but I just can’t stand the guy. No doubt his epic and predictable brain-farts are quite painful to him and I know I shouldn’t take such satisfaction in his travails, but I can’t help it; he’s the Joe Biden of the PGA.)

Anyway, the super-sharp picture resolution showed every dimple on the ball and every blade of grass around the hole as “Lefty” lipped out yet another short putt. It let me see the little flecks of vomit still on Phil’s golf shoes since the U.S. Open. It let me clearly see the bull logo printed on Sergio Garcia’s golf ball (and what is with the horrible commercials trying to establish this mis-shaven Spaniard into a trashy sex symbol? The commercials use double-entendres so heavy-handed pro wrestling wouldn’t even touch them). There’s more to high-def than just the picture, though. Additional sounds are picked up and transmitted from the extra microphones around the course and in the crowd, leading to some pretty interesting effects, especially if you’ve got a home theatre set-up. The sound of a driver crushing a ball is explosive and seems to come from behind you. The applause and cheers of the crowd sound as if you’re standing right in the middle of the gallery.

This isn’t always such a good thing. On one long putt the golfer had no sooner started the putt on its way when some jack-ass, apparently standing right next to a microphone, shouted “IN THE HOLE!” from immediatley behind my left shoulder. I jumped and reflexively lashed out in that direction with a back-handed karate chop, saying “IN THE ADAM’S APPLE!” I wish the clown had actually been standing there. I don’t understand the appeal of this “cheer” except to get yourself “on” TV. Do the jokers who do this stupid thing go to work the next day and brag, saying “Did you hear me on number 14? I shouted ‘YOU DA MAN!’ or “IN THE HOLE!” when Tiger marked his ball.” No one’s ever said that to me at work, and if they did I’d probably say, “Oh, that was you? IN THE ADAM’S APPLE!”

All in all, though, I’m really liking this new technology even if it was kind of expensive, and even though I am discovering some hidden costs. One of the things I watched on the new system yesterday was one of the “Band of Brothers” DVDs. It was the episode where the men are freezing in foxholes around Bastogne. There was a quiet scene where a couple of guys were hunkered down, softly reminiscing about home or some such. I even turned the sound up to follow the conversation, when all of a sudden an artillery shell exploded right behind them (and me).

Now I’ve got to buy a new couch.

The Terrible Twos

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There were a lot of things I didn’t know about blogging when I started out two years ago today. I didn’t know how long I could keep it up, what I would write about, what my “voice” would be, if anyone would ever come by to read this and, if so, if they’d ever come back.



Today, I still don’t know how long I’ll keep this up or what I’m going to write about next week. I do know that people come here, and in gradually increasing numbers — but I’m not sure what topic or style explains the attraction. As to my voice, Craig Westover told me at my first trip to Keegan’s that it takes a little while to find it; two years in and most of the time I still feel as if I’m just clearing my throat, careening from topic to topic with apparent (to me) randomness. I read somewhere that if you want to grow your readership you have to find a niche and pound it. I don’t know, sounds kind of boring to me.



Not that I don’t want readers, mind you. I know some bloggers make it a point of fierce pride that they don’t care how many readers they get, or they stopped looking at the Site Meter ages ago. Not me. There’s not much in the way of compensation for running a blog, and the number of daily unique visitors is one of the easiest ways to get a little affirmation in order to keep the juices flowing. I blog mainly to keep the writing gears lubricated and because I’ve come to enjoy the daily hunt for a topic and the puzzle-solving aspect of fashioning a post from an idea that has occurred to me or from an issue that stimulates me. I’ve made it a point of discipline to try to average at least a post a day here and frankly there are days that I wouldn’t even try to rise to the challenge except I hate the thought of someone making a point of coming here and there not being something new to read.



Some days I’ll try to go for a laugh; other days I’ll take a more serious approach (and I hope you can tell the difference). Other days I just stand back and let the Mall Diva or Tiger Lilly do their thing, and they’ve brought their own following, based on the increase in traffic since they started (to boost traffic, add young women — who knew?).



Anyway, I’m going to keep blogging for now, and checking the Site Meter a couple of times a day. Comments and links are even more “affirming” than traffic, but this isn’t the type of blog that seems to attract a lot of either, unless one of the girls is posting. Oh well, at least it’s not holding me back from my daily routine!



I know I see certain locations and ISPs over and over, so I’ll tell you what: if you’re a regular reader but one who has seldom or never commented here, and you want to offer a Blogiversary present, please leave a comment below. It doesn’t have to be fancy or effusive, but let me know you’re out there, and maybe say how you found this blog in the first place and/or what topic or expectation brings you back. Come on, I put hundreds of words a day here, you can at least spare me a dozen! (Ooops, sorry, didn’t mean to sound like MPR in the middle of pledge week there).