Dad to the Bone, redux

So many thoughts this week leading up to Father’s Day. It was Father’s Day last year when we first faced the possibility of cancer coming back into my father’s life. This morning I spoke for awhile with a father of two young girls who is struggling with their discipline, taking me back to the early days with my own daughters…and then naturally to my oldest, now casting major plans of her own for adulthood. So many things, tumbling around, I’m not sure what will come out here in the coming week, but I think I’ll start things off with one of the first “fatherhood” posts I ever did here.

Dad to the Bone

Every parent either knows – or feels – by heart the words to the “Sunrise, Sunset” song in “Fiddler on the Roof”:

Is this the little girl I carried,
is this the little boy at play?

When I hear this the memory that flashes in my mind is not that of carrying either of my two daughters up to bed, or of piggyback rides. Instead I think of a family photo a few years ago. In it my girls – then about 10 and 5 – and I have been wrestling. I am standing and in each hand I’ve got an ankle of one of the girls and I’m holding them both upside down and off the ground, not unlike a proud poulterer holding up a couple of prizewinners at the State Fair. Imagining the picture now I can still hear the shrieks and giggles.

At this point in their lives – and for this moment now permanently frozen on film – I am Dad the Undefeated and, in their eyes, larger than life. Meanwhile, in the moments that I write this, the next line from that song is passing through my mind: “I don’t remember getting older, when did they?” If asked to reenact the scene today my response would have to be, “One at a time.”

As I flip through my mental photo album the girls seem to grow suddenly in a series of jerks and jumps. Of course I know they are really changing everyday, judging by the continuous trips to the shoe store and cries of, “But I just bought you those pants!” I also can’t help noticing in this album that as they are getting bigger, I seem to be getting – perhaps ever-so-slightly – smaller.

Once when my oldest was very little and concerned that we might be imminently attacked by bears in our own front yard, she was greatly comforted when I assured her that if any bears came near her I’d grab them and twist their noses. Today the same promise still stands regarding boys, not bears, but it’s clear that my powers are coming more into perspective. While there are times when it may seem, in my daughters’ eyes, that I can still rise up and blot out the sun, I cannot stop it from moving across the sky. I am shade, however, standing between them and the heat of the world. I will continue to do so as long as I can stand.

Of course, brute force has always been of limited application. To be a proper protector my defenses have had to be – and must remain – more subtle. Jesus once told his disciples that it was better for them that he go away. His meaning was that his power both in their lives and in the world would ultimately be much greater by his living in them rather than with them. I don’t construe this to mean my girls are better off without me, but rather that I must devote my time with them to preparing them to live on fruitfully, just as Jesus did in his three years with the disciples. The time together already seems all too short.

When they were little, their well-being depended on instant obedience to my authority and that of their mother. It was not expected or accepted of them to ponder whether or not we meant what we said or whether our instructions supported their personhood or hurt their self-esteem. “No,” “stop” and “don’t” could keep them from a boiling pot, a busy street or a strange dog. As they get older they are still at risk from natural forces, careless strangers and unpredictable animals interested only in their own gratification. “No,” “stop” and “don’t” might still have an effect, but it’s better to teach them the underlying reasons and standards for moral conduct so they can also work out the “Yeses,” “do’s” and “go-for-its.” In that way my influence can carry on a lot further than my authority will ever be able to.

For my influence to be effective, however, I have to keep learning and examining myself both for my own benefit as well as theirs. Like it or not, my life will be a standard that my daughters will use to judge men on in the future and I want to set the bar pretty high with no apologies to the young fellas coming along. Perfect or not, it is mine to carry. On one level my girls may see me as “Dad of Dads, Keeper of the Remote and King of Rude Noises,” but they should also know at a deeper level that I have laid and will lay down my life for them. As they grow older I hope that they will not settle for any man who will not do the same, even though the kind interested only in the “lay down” part may be all too common.

If you have daughters I think you know what I mean, and I hope you, too, are preparing yourself and them to live by your influence and that of Jesus while submitting to the authority of God. If you have sons, I pray that you are preparing them to a similar standard and helping them grow into their own responsibilities.

And if you have sons that may be hanging around my daughters, you might want to warn them about that nose thing.

Brothers in Arms

“Brothers in Arms” by Dire Straits is one of the most haunting songs I’ve ever know. I bought the album because of the “Money for Nothing” song when it came out back in, what, 1985? I really liked the song, but it was cemented for me when it was used in a memorable episode of Miami Vice entitled “Out Where the Buses Don’t Run” (back when using popular songs to help illustrate a TV show was ground-breaking).

I’d never seen a video for “Brothers In Arms” until I stumbled across this. Today, the anniversary of the D-Day invasion, the tone and look of the video seem especially appropriate.

There must have been something in the airwaves

There’s a site called Grab.it TV that has collected the top 20 music videos from every week starting when MTV debuted all the way through Napster. If you go to the site you can check out what the most popular videos were for any week of significance to you in this time period and click on the links to watch these.

For example, my wife and I were married on October 10, 1986 (the week of October 4), and by checking out that week I re-discovered that the number one video just so happened to be “Happy to Be Stuck With You” by Huey Lewis & the News.

Not only that, but the weekly top 20 also included “Friends & Lovers” by Gloria Long & Carl Anderson, “When I Think of You” by Janet Jackson, “Two of Hearts” by Stacey Q, and “Love Zone” by Billy Ocean. There was also a song by my wife’s favorite actor at the time, “Heartbeat” from Don Johnson.

Also on the charts was “Heaven in Your Eyes” by the appropriately named Loverboy, “Take My Breath Away” by Berlin and “A Matter of Trust” by Billy Joel.

That was certainly an auspicious beginning for us, even if the list that week included “Throwing it all Away” by Genesis, “Walk This Way” by Run DMC/Aerosmith and “Didn’t Mean to Turn You On” by Robert Palmer!

St. Sabine, St. Adalbert and St. Paul

One day last week I was driving home from work listening to Hugh Hewitt and he introduced an audio clip from a guest speaker at Obama’s church. Unbidden, my mind pictured a black guy.

Then Hugh said the speaker was Father Michael Pfleger; my mind then pictured “Catholic” and “white guy.” Then the cut played and the whispery voice and cadence of Fr. Pfleger spun my brain around again and I thought, “oh, a black guy.” (What really would have scrambled my brain was if the speaker – black or white – had said something I agreed with).

Then, last weekend, I eventually saw a photo of the priest and, lo and behold – a white guy. I had a bit of a laugh at myself and at how automatically our brains grab onto whatever clues it can to create a picture in our minds to help us try to make sense of things on the fly. The picture may not always be right, but without this processing trick our lives and interactions would bog down tremendously, and you could just about kiss off reading comprehension. And in a way, it makes life more interesting when your assumptions are confounded from time to time.

Anyway, I was reminded of this recent sensory experience again this morning when I read Mr. Dilettante’s post about his initial awareness of Fr. Pfleger years ago while living in Chicago, and then the connection Mr. D later made with another “activist priest” after moving to the Twin Cities. The post is only Part One of I don’t know how many, but I found the introduction very interesting and I’m looking forward to the next installment(s). Who knows what may be confounded this time? Check it out.

Update:
Michelle Malkin has the story of Fr. Pfleger being suspended for two weeks by his bishop in the wake of his remarks. Included is a funny photoshopping of Fr. Pfleger into Vanilla Ice. Word to your, er, Father.

…Annnnd, we’re back

What was shaping up as a pretty strong weekend of blog traffic here, thanks to Manival #5, disappeared, literally, in a puff of smoke. My web host service suffered a fire in their facility, damaging its infrastructure but not the servers. This took all the served blogs off-line for (at least in my case) about 27 hours. I have not heard if there were any injuries or further details on the amount of damage to the facility (and I’m trying to find out), but I commend the team for devoting their weekend to getting the business back up and running.

Rub your burger to block cancer

As long as you rub it with rosemary or rosemary extract, that is.

To Block The Carcinogens, Add A Touch Of Rosemary When Grilling Meats
ScienceDaily (May 24, 2008) — Rosemary, a member of the mint family and a popular seasoning on its own, also has benefits as a cancer prevention agent. Apply it to hamburgers and it can break up the potentially cancer-causing compounds that can form when the meat is cooked.

J. Scott Smith found out about rosemary’s strength against the compounds while researching ways to reduce them as part of a long-term Food Safety Consortium project at Kansas State University. Smith, a KSU food science professor, has been looking into the carcinogenic compounds known as HCAs (heterocyclic amines).

“Put a little bit on the surface,” Smith advised grillers. “Rosemary extracts shouldn’t have much of an aroma to them. Most people don’t want a rosemary-flavored burger. So if you get the extract you don’t really know it’s there.”

The full article has details on the research and how and why the natural anti-oxidant properties of rosemary break up the formation of HCAs (heterocyclic amines), thought to be linked to cancer.

Similar studies have shown that marinating steaks with common, high anti-oxidant herbs and spices such as basil, mint, sage, savory, marjoram, oregano and thyme also reduces HCAs. These herbs and spices are on your grocery shelf, while rosemary extract is reportedly available on the internet.

I think this news definitely calls for some grilling this weekend; all in the name of science, of course!

HT: The Evangelical Outpost.

For the Hammer Man

Ben has been on a bit of a G.K. Chesterton binge of late, so this is for him, via The Writer’s Almanac:

It’s the birthday of the novelist and essayist G.K. (Gilbert Keith) Chesterton, (books by this author) born in London, England (1874). He’s remembered today for his detective novels about the bumbling, crime-solving priest Father Brown, but during his lifetime he was primarily known as an essayist. He wrote constantly, about politics, society, literature, and religion. He was one of the first critics to argue that Charles Dickens was a great novelist, after the decline of his reputation in the early 20th century. He was one of the first people to argue that the influence of religion on public life would be replaced by the influence of advertisements.

Enjoy.

For Memorial Day

Here’s something I wrote and posted a couple of years ago, but it’s an appropriate time to re-run it.

June 6th

I’ve felt like this before. The nausea,
simultaneously sweating and shivering,
knowing that something was about to happen
and it wouldn’t be good.
Then it was being crammed into the landing craft,
Pressing toward Omaha Beach,
held in place by the shoulders of the men on either side of me,
eyes fixed on the door at the front,
with death on the other side as the bullets hissed.
Now it’s more than sixty years later
and the tubes and wires
hold me in place as the machines hiss
as I stare at the door with death on the other side.
Maybe this time, too, I’ll be lucky.

Then we advanced like a wave, and death took us
by the handfuls;
Bombs, machine guns, artillery shells leaving
sudden gaps in the line,
friendships and debts disappearing in an instant,
but we still advanced from hedge to hill, from farm to city.
Storming a farm house we found
the German kid with a couple of bullets
(maybe mine)
in him, clutching a religious medallion and
praying “Mein Gott, mein Gott”
as he bled out.
My God.
My God, too.
I knelt and his lips moved as he looked at me,
I put my hand on the side of his face,
“God, have mercy on him,” I prayed as his
face became peaceful and the light left with his blood.
“God, have mercy on us all.”

At reunions we’d regroup and note
the new gaps in the line;
death now a sniper as we fall one by one
and just as inevitably.
Does He see our faces in the scope
as He lines up the head shot,
or only the meat as he selects
heart, lungs, marrow?
Then we advanced because we had to,
We had to win
We had to make our losses mean something.
We thought we had won, at the end,
but it was only the war and not the battle
and the lives were just a down-payment
on peace and breathing room,
until the enemy returns,
with installments paid in different ways
in the days and nights to come.
Sometimes in later years
when I felt the moistness of my wife
I would suddenly think of Steinie,
of pushing his guts back inside him
after he was burst by the 88.
Those were the nights, then,
when I would sit up at the kitchen table, smoking
until you kids came in for breakfast,
keeping watch, remembering the faces,
wondering how many others might also be sitting up
that night, remembering the same faces.
I don’t wonder so much anymore.

Meanwhile, the fat sales director,
who sat out the war In England
in the Quartermaster corps, would say,
“Boys, we’ve got to take that hill” and
we would take that hill, fill that quota,
and make another payment on the Dream
because we had seen Evil and had our fill
and thought it was finished and that
the world had been reborn shiny and new.
Surely it had to have been,
given the cost;
surely evil had to have been driven away,
and we came back to build a new world
for you our children,
a world where you would never have to
face what we faced;
see what we saw,
do what we had done.
We were naive, of course,
but don’t blame us
for wanting it to be so.

Did we do wrong, my children?
Thinking no one would dare open that door again,
did we neglect to prepare you,
to give you valuable perspective?
You´ve seen the pictures,
And heard the words,
but you can´t know the smell
or the taste,
of walking into that concentration camp,
so your Hitlers are effigies and
Nazis are bogeymen,
mere cursing but not a curse.
I´m sorry, I´m sorry, I´m sorry.
There’s much I would have you know,
things I should have said and
lessons you’ll have to learn on your own.

I don’t know why I’ve lived so long
when so many died around me,
unless it’s because something of their
unused futures was somehow transferred to me
in the spray of their blood.
I’ve tried to use it well.
May you do the same.