An inadvertant lack of equality

It may be possible, implausible and improbable though it may be, that some poor soul has wandered to this site, looked at my most illustrious list of links, and attempted to find, by following those links, just who is Fred Reed and why does Leatherwing link to him. Well, due to the lack of an = (that's an "equals" sign) the link to Fred was rerouted back to this page.

The problem has been corrected, I hereby offer apologies and encouragement. Go check it out. Fred is an old codger, and most of his articles reflect his codgeriness. But they also reflect the opinion of an old soldier, world traveller, journalist, and thinker. You may not agree with all he says, but will probably laugh a little and maybe see things from another perspective. (Mild warning: he is an old codger and occassionally uses words you wouldn't say in church. But you've probably heard them all before.)

I like this, but should I?

I recently got sick (and unfortunately infected a friend or two) and missed a few days of school. While watching the toob, I saw an ad for a new show on Showtime called Dexter. Showtime has made the first two episodes available online. I am really excited about the networks publishing their content online (I've recently watched episodes of Studio 60, Heroes, Numb3rs, The Unit, Jericho, and 30 Rock online. I love that I can miss a show and still not miss it!) so I decided to watch Dexter during my recuperation.

First, a confession. I like dark subject matter. I enjoy dark thrillers if they are intelligently written. I grew up on horror movies, cut my teeth reading early Stephen King and thought that all was right with the world when horror made a comeback in the early 80's. So in many ways, a show like Dexter is right up my alley. You see, Dexter is a serial killer, with a twist:

****Spoiler warning****
Dexter is the good guy. He's a cop who only allows himself to indulge his murderous urges on other killers who have escaped justice. He was trained by his police officer father to cover his tracks and recognize those that deserve to die.
*****End Spoilers******

I know that on some levels, this is social commentary:
The police, the judicial system, and by extension, we the people are occasionally given the duty of deciding life or death for criminals. It is not always done with justice, so could an individual, unencumbered by the rules we impose on a civil society, do a better job?
Should any policeman ever be given the right/ability to take a human life? Can any of them truly be trusted?

I remember a fascinating short story I read about a vampire hunter who was able to do what no one else could do because, like the vamps, he liked killing and was not squeamish about the disgusting nature of his work. Dexter is a character in the same vein.

Like I said, I know that the creators would probably say that this is social commentary and that they perform a public service by causing us to think about these sorts of things. But the truth is that they have created a pleasant character, placed him in a beautiful setting (Miami) and made him a hero because of, not in spite of, the terrible things he does.

I know that Dexter will have many fans. The show is well made. It is likeable (to me). And by watching this likeable show, I would subject myself to weekly mutilations and murders. Carried out by the hero. I don't know how you feel about the idea of televisiona and movies desensitizing society, but I think Dexter is a near perfect vehicle for carrying it out.

Fortunately, Dexter is carried on Showtime, which I don't have, so I won't be watching.

Unfortunately, part of me wishes I could.

Life in a Northern Town

Recently the Bride who wore Black and I visited some old friends from Texas who now live in Maryland. The Saturday night that we arrived there was a street party in downtown Frederick. I live in Winston-Salem, NC and the city has been trying to generate an active downtown life for the city, but we just don't hold a candle to Frederick, and I'm not sure why.

My first thought is the age of the city. Frederick is about 100 years older than the Winston part of W-S, which seems to be the dominant part of W-S. Frederick is built closer together, with retail, restaurant and residential mixed together, often in the same building. Maybe southern cities had more land and spread out more. But the eclectic mix we saw in Frederick was something that I can't see being generated by city mandate. It just grew that way. I liked it quite a bit.

Things Willa teaches me about God

I was driving to school this morning listening to Revolution, by George Barna. My buddy TJ loaned me his copy on CD, and like him, I have to rewind pretty frequently just to make sure I heard what I think I heard.

I had listened to one section about three times. The point was that worship is not for the worshipper but for the one worshipped. I understood that and listened on. A while later, as I got excited about the idea of revolutionary Christian living, I finally truly got the point. I was driving along, thinking "I want to do something important (for God)". The emphasis was of course on me. I want to be important. But a revolutionary doesn't see himself as important, only God is important (I know that we are important to God, Jesus died for us, etc., but our worth comes completely from Him, so it is still all about Him.)

So how does Willa fit into this? I often need real world examples to wrap my mind around ideas, and I often use my relationship with Willa. For instance, if I am watching television, Willa is lying beside me on the floor, and I turn of the TV, Willa jumps up, ready to go. This is not because she understands what a television is and that she knows the pretty pictures are gone now so I might as well leave. No, she understands me (as much as she can). She is a devoted follower of me, and when the TV goes off, she knows that I am about to move, so she gets ready to move also. I wish I had the diligence in my observation and study of God that she has in studying me.

But back to doing something important for God. Willa is a good dog. She doesn't have accidents in the house or destroy furniture, she is very obedient, and scares away people when I don't want to answer the door. I even expect her to protect our house while I am away and she is there. But, if I come home and the house has been robbed and she slept through the whole thing, would I love her less. NO, because all I truly want from her is what she gives me every day, love and absolute devotion. I don't expect her to contribute important things to the family, I don't even need for her to. I just want her to love me.

I think that's what God wants from me. My buddy TJ has a phrase - "God doesn't need me to get it done" . I think I may have just gotten it.

I've been tagged???

OK, The Bride Who Wore Black has tagged me, so I will submit. While I am very tempted to respond with Wild at Heart for every answer, I decided to play nice - for today.

1. One book that changed your life: Amusing Ourselves To Death by Neil Postman. It opened my eyes to the way the news media shapes and influences opinion, and to how much we have lost the ability to digest complex ideas - we want sound bites.

2. One book that you’ve read more than once: I'm gonna cheat and give two - The Lord of the Rings (J.R.R. Tolkien) and The Stand (Stephen King). I read both while in high school, and many times since. LOTR edges out The Stand by a wide margin, but the Stand has some of Stephen King's best characters (of his older stuff, I quit reading him after IT). They are a little similar in that the characters in both are on quests where they have to face evil both from within themselves and outside. I hate the way King ended The Stand, but the 500 pages before that are pretty good.

3. One book you’d want on a desert island: That book from Myst, where you open it and get transported somewhere else. Or one with a map to all the Dharma Initiative hatches.

4. One book that made you laugh: "I've got it again, Larry...an eerie feeling like there's something on top of the bed." The Far Side Gallery by Gary Larson. A true geek's geek.

5. One book that made you cry: Wild at Heart. I won't try to defend it theologically, I'm not qualified. But it touched something in me that had been dead for a long time.

6. One book that you wish had been written: How to Make a Fortune from the Trivial Knowledge You Already Possess!!

7. One book that you wish had never been written: Prayer of Jabez. It's a cool prayer, but I think it gets blown out of proportion.

8. One book you’re currently reading: Nothing currently. I just finished Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. I like his perspective on some things. On Monday I will be up to my eyeballs in textbooks (final 15 hours of coursework, yeah!) whose names I do not yet know.

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read: Gospel of John in the original Greek. Not to boast, because I'm not sure that I can do it. That's why it's on my "meaning to read" list.

10. Now tag five people: Sorry, this really is a dead end. You got off the superhighway when you made that left turn in Albuquerque.

What's in your basket?

A few weeks ago, our pastor spoke about faith, how it is the foundation of God's plan for successful living. For his text, he used the account from John 6 of Jesus feeding five thousand with five loaves and two fish. Essentially, a large group of people had been following Jesus around as he taught. Jesus had gone to a mountain with his disciples, but the people were on their way. And it was Passover. It was obvious that the people needed to be fed. Jesus asked Philip "Where are we going to buy bread to feed these people?" Philip responded with a financial estimate: "It would take over 6 months wages to feed this crowd!" About this time, Simon Peter's brother Andrew brought over the five loaf, two fish lunch he had gotten from a boy in the crowd. We all know the rest of the story: Jesus gave thanks for the food and from it passed out enough food for five thousand people to eat their fill. Then he told his disciple to gather up the leftovers (that nothing would be lost - that part puzzles me). When they gathered the leftovers, there were twelve baskets full.
This last part is the what interests me. As our pastor noted, Jesus was trying to instill faith into his disciples. Isn't it interesting to note the number of baskets? Twelve baskets for twelve disciples. Before the crowd was fed, the disciples probably all stood around and looked into the basket Andrew had brought to Jesus. They would have laughed at the idea of feeding more than a few people from such a spartan meal, much less this huge crowd. Then, after the fact, they each gathered a full basket. Each one of them held a basket that alone was filled with more food than they started with. Each of them held proof that the miracle had occurred. Each had eaten his fill, and still held a basket with more food than in the original lunch. I find a wonderful generosity in Jesus' teaching through this miracle. John didn't have to rely on Peter's word, Matthew didn't have to believe Nathaniel - each had all the evidence in his own hands. In total it was especially awesome, but each had a miracle in his own basket.
All of which leaves me wondering: Is it possible that I have been allowed to gather the remnant of some miracle into my basket, just so that Jesus can show me personally that he is who he says he is?

Only for Disciples

Meaning those with discipline. If you are able to say to yourself "I will do X for 20 minutes and then stop" and you stop doing X in about 20 minutes, then it is safe for you to continue. If, on the other hand, you say to yourself "I will do X for 20 minutes and then stop" and find yourself still doing X hours later, then Zwok is not safe for you.
Zwok is a flash based game that pits teams of three cute little monsters (Yes, this is a guys blog and I just said "cute". Get over it.) against another team of three cute little monsters. You start off throwing balls at the other team, but as you gain points, you get new weapons like clusters, bouncers, or the ultimate - a brick (Hitting a noob with a brick is just a way to say "Welcome to the neighborhood, can we be friends"...really.)There is a rocking soundtrack, cool backgrounds, and rock throwing. What more, you may ask? Well you can customize your creature's appearance by choosing a face, costume and color. You also choose which team you will 'play' for, Blooz or Grienz. Blooz rule, but Grienz drool, and that's cool, just ask Willa.
Should you find yourself in Zwok-land look for Leatherwing. I'll be the Grien with the brick.

Macs just work!! (for people that don't like to)

In January I bought my first Mac after having used PC's for many years. I like the machine, I dislike the cult(ure). I mean, I bought a computer, I didn't sign onto a way of life.
If, like me, you are a little perturbed by the new Mac commercials that make fun of PC's, give this a try.

Big Ben and the New Yorker

Yes, I'm talking about the motorcycle-automobile collision involving Ben Roethlisberger. I get very angry at the way the media (and from callers to radio stations, the general public agrees) reports any accident involving a two-wheel vehicle. Of course, the magical helmet gets brought up immediately, followed by speculation about everything that the rider/cyclist could possibly have done wrong:was he speeding; changing lanes; outside the crosswalk (for bicycles-you do know that is where they belong, don't you). The fact that the automobile driver violated LAW is mitigated by the fact that the two wheeled vehiclist is a poopy head and shouldn't have been on the street in the first place, being a nuisance to good tax payers.
But the facts (from the newspaper, I haven't seen this on TV or heard it on radio) is that the woman turned left in front of Roethlisberger.
From the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review

Martha Fleishman, 62, of Squirrel Hill, was driving the car west on Second Avenue and turning left onto the 10th Street Bridge when Roethlisberger's Suzuki Hayabusa, which was heading east on Second Avenue, struck the car.

A witness said Roethlisberger didn't appear to be speeding in the 35 mph zone, and Fleishman had slowed to make the turn. Both drivers had a green light, the witness said.

Had she done this in front of an SUV (or another Chrysler New Yorker) there would have been little to talk about, probably no injuries, no news. I am sure that she "feels really bad" but the facts are that she caused the collision, and everyone is piling on Roethlisberger.
Yellow flag. Fifteen yards on everybody for Roughing the Passer.
I hope Ben recovers completely. I also hope he continues to exercise his freedom. I hope little women in big cars start looking where they are going.

Did Christians miss the boat?

In the days leading up to the opening of The Da Vinci Code, as rumours of bad reviews came out of the Cannes film festival, I began to wonder if we had been duped. What if the movie was not that good, would stir up little or no controversy (on its own merits), and the uproar of Christians had just guaranteed that the film would be a hit.
Did Christians and churches waste their time studying up on the book's claims, preparing to refute them? Was it just a lot of preaching to the choir? Or was it a useful exercise, motivating Christians to step outside our fortresses and mingle with our culture?
I can see both sides. I think there is value in learning our own history, shoring up confidence in what we believe. Also, our enemy is crafty beyond belief and is the ruler of this world. Perhaps he wanted us to be distracted and occupied with something of his choosing for a while.
Just a few thoughts. No answers. You will have to provide those.

Caring a great deal about something they hardly know

Yesterday, for my 4th semester Greek class we were supposed to recite the first seven lines of the Iliad from memory. It was on the schedule for weeks, everyone knew about it. There were only two people in the class that were remotely prepared two days prior. On the day of the blessed event, about 10 minutes before class, one of the aforementioned prepared students walked in. I gave her a hard time, told her we all hated her because she was ready and we were not. She smiled, laughed really, just did it silently. I said something else and then she walked over and handed me a note.

"I am observing the National day of Silence."

Oh, OK. I've heard of it. Sort of a vague memory, but couldn''t tell you anything about it. So I ask "For what organization?" She is quiet (of course she's quiet, she has a cause!), looks a little fuddled, then writes "PRIDE, I think". So she can't even tell me for whom she is doing this.

Well, class time comes and she shows the note to our professor. He's not impressed. After everyone else has recited, he calls upon our intrepid mime. She shakes her head "No". He tells her she must. She clenches her fists, and rapidly shakes her head "No". She looks like a toddler being told to eat her broccoli, but I'm sure she believed herself to look noble and courageous. And she doesn't know who she is doing it for! But she must care an awful lot, right?

I think Yeats applies:
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Finals aren't even here yet and I'm already toast.

I had to take a brain break. Every day I check one or two major shool projects off my list, but the list is long and I am starting to crack. One week from today finals officially start, even though I have one tonight.
I still have two software projets that are way behind and they are my main concern. The tests will take care of themselves - good or bad, they will be over soon. The software won't write itself (yet).
On top of that, my in-laws are coming, which alone would be a good thing, but in tandem with finals, it feels like competition for my time.
OK, that was a waste of your time, but I needed the break. Hopefully next time will be more worthwhile for you (whoever you are).

Country road, take me home

We decided to take a last minute, but much needed, three day holiday for Easter. We decided to head for the mountains of North Carolina. It was Monday night when we started looking for a place, assuming we would board our dog. When we found that some places allowed pets, we redirected our search in that direction. I found a bed & breakfast called the Dog House Inn that caters to dog owners, with free pet sitting and a small private dog park.
The Morrigan liked the link I emailed her, so she called on Tuesday - we were in Thursday night. I got out of class at 3:15, drove home like a madman, grabbed the wonder dog to get her to the vet for a two month overdue shot and a bath. The plan was to be on the road by 6:30, but it was 8:00 before we finally got underway.
For a couple of city dwelling devils, the road was a bit harrowing. When the pavement ended and the dirt road ran for half a mile beside a river, I was wishing we had driven the 4WD and/or arrived before dark. But we arrived with no mishaps, and the place is pretty nice, emphasis on pretty, but in a deliberately rustic sort of way. It was far too dark to see the view, but I could hear the river from our private terrace. Nice.
We slept with our balcony door open (the heat had been left on and the room was stifling, but the cool air balanced it perfectly) and the morning was beautiful.The sky was overcast (just the way I like it) and morning came slow, not in a blaze of glory but instead slowly brightening until you could see all the neighboring mountaintops. I can see one other house, three hills away, and on a smooth patch of ground in the distance two black dots move slowly. They are either horses or cows, but it is too far away to tell. As dawn broke, I thought there was a vineyard a couple of hills away, but more light revealed that it is a Christmas tree farm. The river is still flowing, as I can hear it below, but can't see it, only the gap in the trees that defines its path.
We may stay here all day, we may go for a hike (yea right!!). But we will soak up all of this that we can store, and take it back with us.

Why I've been reluctant to write anything here.

I really started this blog with a specific purpose in mind. My father died in June of 2005 and I waqs going to write about my feelings, sort of a therapy. So I created a blog and couldn't bring myself to write. Then I moved over to Livejournal and sat on my hands some more. Then I moved back here and decided I was going to keep this up. But every time I've logged on, I've been reminded of why I started this.
So here it is. I loved my dad and wish he hadn't died, but he was surrounded by a family that loves him. He was able to make the final decisions about his life, and we didn't have to wonder what he would have wanted, he told us what he wanted. So in that respect, we were lucky. He wasn't afraid to die and was a great example of courage to me. There are things I wish I'd said, things I wish we could have done together.
That's it. I don't want to say anymore here, I just felt that I needed to at least acknowledge him and the reason I am here.

I love you Dad.

Something old made new, in an old fashioned way.

By the time anyone reads this, if anyone actually does read this, it will probably be too late to see the Triad Stage production of Brother Wolf. But probably won't be too late to buy the CD of the music from Brother Wolf.
BW is an original musical production that mixes Beowulf with Appalachian music and folk tales, with a little Hell-fire and brimstone thrown in, just because. It deals with Pride, Vengeance, Forgiveness, long knives, pistols, demons, snake-handlers, snakes all played out to toe tappin' fiddle music soundtrack. I doubt that it will see a national tour anytime soon, and if it does, it probably won't take along composer/musician Laurelyn Dosset or musician Riley Baugus (they form two parts of the trio Polecat Creek). The music is the soul of the play, even though the actors are very good. But the script loses steam in the last act and the music, consistently good throughout, has to carry the show at the end. I don't know if the music was composed after the script or simultaneously, but it fits seemlessly into the plot, and at times seems crucial.
I recommend the CD if you like mountain music (not Bluegrass, mountain). You can hear snippets here and here.

Where'd you come from?

If you're here, you're probably lost. If not, welcome. This is a bit of a restart, hopefully more successful than its predecessor.
Leatherwing