L. A. Diary: We Arrive and I Discover that I Love L.A.

Part 1: We Begin

Part 2: On the Road

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Once we got to the other side of those mountains, which actually look like foothills to anyone who grew up visiting Colorado on a regular basis, we hit Los Angeles.

What a surprise it was.

The movies made me think of it as flat.

This was enhanced when Tom told me many years ago that L.A. was like a huge version of Houston. Hmmm. Houston is flat as a pancake, full of clogged highways, and, frankly, not my cup of tea.

This city though was not like the descriptions or movies. It was clumps of hills with houses clinging to the sides and grouped around the base, highways weaving around them. The houses were brightly colored or Spanish-style architecture or just exotic looking.

I feasted my eyes.

This was anything but flat and boring!

As we laboriously made our way through town to Rose's new neighborhood of Los Feliz, my enchantment grew. For some reason Brazil came to mind. Yes, that is just how exotic it felt. I loved it! And that enchantment lasted the entire time we were there.

Rose's apartments, which back up to a huge hill and face a city park, continued my pleasure. Much larger than we expected, with hardwood floors and open courtyards, it was a lovely place to think of Rose and Zoe spending their time.

We crammed the car and U-Haul into Rose's parking place and hurriedly began hauling boxes to and fro. We wanted to unload that darned trailer and only had a couple of hours before the U-Haul office closed. We made the deadline and felt as light as a feather continuing without it behind us in the L.A. traffic. Why, we could even back up! No more determining destinations based on pull-through parking. Woohoo!

Rose and Zoe would spend one more night with us in a hotel. There was no way we were going to abandon them with the bed not even put together and the entire place full of boxes.

But where would take a dog?

Not many places, as it turned out.

However, both the Marriott and the Holiday Inn near the Bob Hope Airport would do so. And they weren't too far away. Based on the photos, Tom thought the Marriott looked quieter and more relaxing.

Thus did we learn that you really cannot judge a hotel by its picture.

Little did we know that we were embarking upon the strangest encounter we would have the entire time. And, now that I think of it, I'm not sure our family has ever had an evening like the one we had at the Marriott.

Once again, that's a story for another day.

L. A. Diary: On the Road

Part 1: We Begin

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Adventure or inconvenience ... this one is easy.

Driving is worth it. The scenery is simply fantastic.

As Tom said, it is like that first scene from Silverado. Scott Glenn has been inside a tiny, dark cabin evading shotgun blasts from an unknown assassin on the outside. He prevails and swings open the door and ...

... there taking up the entire screen is a glorious panorama that you can hardly believe is real.

Those filmmakers must have driven through the west.

Not that there weren't inconveniences. We had plenty to make sure we appreciated the boons we were granted (such as that scenery).

The half hour of waiting in traffic just outside of Fort Worth after we'd been driving only about 20 minutes from home. Some genius in the local Transportation department had detoured four lanes through an access road.

Zoe's continual nervousness at the traffic. Every time a big truck roared by she jumped to her feet and whirled to look out the window. This was just for the first day, but she was so nervous that we all had to sit in the car with her so that she'd take a drink of water. And after she did ... she vomited. Luckily, your eagle-eyed Happy Catholic was in the back seat, noticed the gulping (and seconds later, the heaving sides) and grabbed the giant water bowl to hold under her mouth. And my instinct to cover the back seat and environs with old towels gave us a nice mouth-wipe for after.

The food. Dear Lord, the endless outlets for fast food of every sort. This wasn't helped by the fact that the U-Haul dictated our choice of restaurants. If we couldn't pull through, then we didn't dine there. (I use the word "dine" loosely, but you get the idea.)

But without those inconveniences we wouldn't have been able to revel in this glorious Western scenery. Not for the first few hours. West Texas is no treat for the eyes, except possibly in high summer. But as soon as we hit New Mexico the mesas made me remember not only Silverado, but every Western movie I'd ever seen.

It was sunset and the rich golden glow from the west put everything in sharp silhouette. The mesas stood black against the light. It was almost too much for the eyes but we couldn't quit staring.

The next two days saw more mesas, mountains, glorious rolling desert ... and then for a couple of hours before hitting the California mountains, we were back in nondescript landscape. And then we rolled through those hills and saw L.A.

But that's a story for another day. Tomorrow,  in fact.

An Individual Retreat for Seeking Humility: Reviewing "Simplifying the Soul" by Paula Houston

True humility is not an abject, groveling, self-despising spirit--it is but a right estimate of ourselves as God sees us.

Tryon Edwards

Humility means knowing the good about yourself and the bad about yourself. It is about having proper perspective. It is only when we are truly humble that we can be Christ-like, obedient to God the the right spirit, and learn to love God selflessly.

I'm terrible at it.

I try. Sometimes I succeed (always through God's grace ... do I need to even say that part?). But mostly, I try. And forget. And fail.

So it was with a sense of relief that I saw the Patheos book club was going to be discussing Paula Huston's new book, Simplifying the Soul: Lenten Practices to Renew Your Spirit.

Though, to be honest, it was with a sense of "what? already!" that I realized Lent must be coming up if this book was considered timely.

I really loved Huston's book, By Way of Grace (excerpts and my comments are here), which took readers on a tour of the virtues via selected saints and Huston's own life. I knew I'd probably like this book. What I didn't expect is that Simplifying the Soul is an actual retreat-in-a-book. When she says "Lenten practices to renew your spirit," she isn't kidding.

Huston talks about the desirability of humility and then points out that Lent is like the Church's annual retreat for all of us to stop, take a fresh look at ourselves (with God's help), identify what is impeding our ability to follow Christ, and then to apply the antidote.

To this end, she sets forth the way of simplicity, following in the footsteps of the desert fathers and mothers ... those who dwelled in the desert, seeking God ... with daily quotes and practices to help us notice and shed our sins. Huston adds her own wise observations and examples from her life to help the reader have proper perspective.

Each week is unified under its own theme and practices follow suit. Thus "simplifying space" may call for cleaning out a junk drawer one day and setting up a special prayer place on another. "Simplifying relationships" may ask you to sit in silence with a friend and, later in the week, to forgive someone in person.

None of the practices are difficult although, naturally, some may need adaptation to live up to the spirit of the thing if something doesn't particularly apply to you. For example, I tend to dread social engagements of any kind (no matter that  I enjoy them a lot when I'm actually there), so asking me to cancel a social engagement is going to do nothing but make me happy, instead of inspiring the inward examination Huston hopes for. However, I bet my husband will be able to come up with an appropriate substitute.

There are some practices, however easy, that may make us quail. That's part of the point. It is one thing to think about carrying out good works and quite another to commit to actually doing them, even if for only one day. Work in a soup kitchen for a day? Scary to step out like that ... at least it is for me ... but I am willing to try.

I considered following this individual retreat myself during Lent. It is solid and has a great combination of "adding on" and "giving up" to help us know ourselves better while seeking God. However, I realized that the different daily practices actually would be playing into one of my main faults: jumping around from thing to thing. Although they are all contained within the larger framework of simplification, to jump from thing to thing is something that brings out the worst in me. My own nature requires being forced to stick with one thing.

I don't think this applies to everyone and I believe that Huston's retreat will be a great blessing for most readers. I will be reading along daily because even considering her "help at a soup kitchen" practice made me realize that there are members of my own family who I am not giving enough time to ... such as not visiting my mother-in-law enough. On that larger level, this retreat will work really well for me as a self examination of ingrained habits. Hopefully, I will learn enough from it that I can take on some good practices as a long-term habit.

Here's a sample to give you an idea of how a day looks. There is quite a bit missing from Huston's comments, because I'd have been typing for a long time, but as I say ... this gives you a flavor. Bon appetit!

third week of lent:
SIMPLIFYING THE MIND

The desert dwellers believed that our souls need proper nourishment--spiritual food--in order to achieve clear spiritual vision. Jesus often withdrew into the desert or the mountaintops at night in order to rejuvenate his soul through prayer.

Monday: Spend a Day Without TV

A brother, possessed by sadness and melancholy went to an Elders and asked of him: "What am I to do? My thoughts present me with the idea that perhaps in vain I denied the world and that I cannot be saved."


Thoughtfully, the Elder answered as follows: "My child, even if we do not succeed in reaching the promised land, it is  better that we should give our carcasses to the desert than return to the Egypt of fearful enslavement" (Numbers 14:29-33).

MEDITATION

I live in a busy place. With a garden, orchard, kitchen, and grandkids to care for, my mornings are filled with physical labor. By the time I sit down for lunch, I'm tired. But then I go to my studio, where I spend the next four or five hours researching and writing. When I get back to the house at six or so, it's time to cook the evening meal, eat dinner, and clean up the kitchen. As the working day draws to a close, I find myself fighting to stay awake. But 8:00 p.m. is just too early to go to bed. Instead, I look around for something that will not only keep me up but also distract me!

... After all what could be wrong with a little entertainment after a long day's work?

What's wrong is that a steady diet of over-stimulating or fantasy-inducing distraction eventually reshapes our perception of the world and prevents us from dealing with reality. ...

Jesus, however, links genuine freedom to our ability to recognize truth. "If you remain in my word, you will truly be my disciples, and you will know the truth and the truth will set you free" (Jn 8:31-32). Free from what? Misperception, melodrama, falsehood, artificiality, superficiality, and self-indulgent egoism--everything the entertainment industry depends upon to hold our attention. ...

PRACTICE

Today fast from TV. If you are not a TV watcher, then choose another form of entertainment that you rely upon to keep you stimulated and distracted. notice what happens when this habitual method of reinvigorating yourself is removed. Do you feel restless? Bored? How deeply ingrained is the entertainment addiction? While you fast, pray for new insight in this area and for the strength to try new ways of dealing with mental exhaustion.

I am the light of the world Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. (Jn. 8:12)

March for Life - UPDATED

We were at the March on Saturday. It was a sunny but cold day and there were thousands of people marching, which is always heartwarming. Part of the point is to show through physical presence that we are standing up for life, but part of the point is to feel that solidarity. To know that we aren't alone. It is something you can know intellectually, but there is a difference in seeing, hearing, and (occasionally) bumping into all the others who feel the same.

The media has gotten good at ignoring this event, although I notice that we can have ten protesters outside our office building (we are next to Jeb Hensarling's office) and several news cameras will descend upon them.

This year, the media continued ignoring us ... except for WFAA, Channel 8, who we were pleased to see did a very nice piece.




UPDATE
I didn't see until now that President Obama spoke about Roe v. Wade.

As we mark the 39th anniversary of Roe v. Wade, we must remember that this Supreme Court decision not only protects a woman’s health and reproductive freedom, but also affirms a broader principle: that government should not intrude on private family matters. I remain committed to protecting a woman’s right to choose and this fundamental constitutional right. While this is a sensitive and often divisive issue- no matter what our views, we must stay united in our determination to prevent unintended pregnancies, support pregnant woman and mothers, reduce the need for abortion, encourage healthy relationships, and promote adoption. And as we remember this historic anniversary, we must also continue our efforts to ensure that our daughters have the same rights, freedoms, and opportunities as our sons to fulfill their dreams.

I have to pray for that man more than I do.

I can't ever think of President Obama and abortion without remembering that he, tellingly, in speaking of his daughters, said, “I don’t want them punished with a baby.”

Nice, right?

I have other thoughts that sprang to mind but I see that The Anchoress has comprehensively communicated them already. (Sometimes it is scary how much we think alike.)

L. A. Diary: We Begin

An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered; an adventure is an inconvenience rightly considered.

G.K. Chesterton, On Running After Ones Hat, All Things Considered, 1908

I came across this quote at exactly the right time.

We were beginning to plunge into executing the seemingly endless details necessary to drive Rose to Los Angeles. She finished college in three years after majoring in film editing. After a few months off to enjoy the holidays at home, was ready to begin job hunting. Tom thought that the film industry is such a tough field to break into that we would support her using the money we planned for that unneeded fourth college year. That way she could afford to take a low paying, beginner's job somewhere that she could get a toe-hold for better things later.

Complicating things somewhat was the fact that Rose wanted to take Zoe, one of our Boxers. We applauded this impulse, not least because Zoe was the most annoying member of the household. A rescue dog of show-quality beauty, Zoe combined a high-strung, fashion model's temperament with several ingrained habits learned at her first home. We spent a lot of time judging whether Zoe's restlessness called for rawhide bones, which she consumed at an alarming rate, but which also acted like a drug on her system. She would begin gnawing and she would "put on her soft face" as we called it, with her eyes turning red with relaxation.

Traveling across the country with Zoe would be interesting, to say the least. For one thing, we thought she was leash-trained for going out, but weren't sure how this would work out on the road. For another thing, finding hotels that would take dogs was problematic. Luckily most Holiday Inn Expresses did, for an extra fee.

Zoe also made internet apartment hunting an interesting challenge. However, Rose was determined. She saw Zoe as protection for a girl alone in the big city. We agreed and also liked the idea that Rose would have some "family" with her while learning the L.A. ropes before making new friends.

Then there was the fact that we'd be gone from work for ten days. We'd never been gone so long from our business. While Rose was packing everything she owned into boxes, Tom was measuring furniture and consulting with the local U-Haul, I was arranging for a house-sitter who would care for Wash the Boxer, and Hannah was moving out to a duplex with her two dogs.

Amid the whirlwind of activity, changing plans, uncertainty, and fears, I saw that G. K. Chesterton had the proper perspective. It didn't change my harried state of mind but it became the mantra I repeated whenever I felt overwhelmed. I was mired in inconveniences but somehow, I knew, these could be the doorway to adventure.

And G. K.'s wise words followed us on the road to L.A. as we drove with the complications of U-Haul and Zoe, spending money like water on the way.

There were inconveniences to be sure. But the adventures were great and varied.

More to come tomorrow on all that, from the small observations to the absurdities that introduced us to Los Angeles.

Reviewing "The Father's Tale" by Michael O'Brien

He was losing all affection for Russia. It was a crazy country, full of crazy people. At any moment, crazy things came out of nowhere and ran over the unsuspecting traveler, shot him with an arrow or shook him like a pea in a tin can. Moreover, he realized that he had left behind at Obsk the bag in which he had carried his clothing, and he was doubly disturbed that he had not noticed until now. He possessed only the clothes on his back and the shoulder bag containing his documents, money, and a few books. Once again, everything was going wrong.

Alexander Graham, is the father of two sons, both old enough to be living their own lives. A widower living in the small Canadian town of Halcyon, Alex runs the bookstore on a shoestring, barely making ends meet. When he attempts to call his son Andrew in Oxford for Christmas, Alex finds Andrew is unexpectedly missing. Further investigation reveals that Andrew may be in the clutches of a New Age religious cult so Alex borrows money against his store and sets off to England. He winds up following them to Europe and then across Russia as the pursuit takes on a life of its own.

Clearly Michael O'Brien has a passion for Russian literature and for the Russian people who are so affectionately and realistically portrayed in this novel (as far as I know ... since I don't know any Russians). Just as clearly, he has passion for music, poetry, fathers, and sons as evidenced by continuing threads throughout the book.

Whether it was necessary for him to write a 1,072 page book to tell his story is not as clear.

You'd think the story of a father trying to find and rescue his missing college-aged son from a religious cult would be sensational, quick paced, and shocking. Well, no. However, as O'Brien told it, the story kept pulling me along. I could feel for the father's uncertainty about what action to take, his constant worry about lack of funds for continuing Russian travels, and his worry over whether his son was being held against his will or whether this was the son's choice ... and what to do in either case.

This was definitely an interesting tale in that it contrasted the usual thriller type fare of cults and being lost in a strange country while steadily losing every possession against Graham's traveling with a slow, meditative pace. The face that  we understand very little of what occurs makes us equal with the protagonist. The one thing that is clear is that O'Brien provides food for thought sprinkled throughout the journey. I have never read Tolstoy so I can't say if this book is similar (as one endorser did), but it is definitely worth reading.

I have to say that this book began dragging for me after the doctor left her two sons in Alex's charge while she went on her trip. I am not sure if I simply was impatient with reading the book after so much time (which is a fault I have, admittedly) or if enough cogitation along the same lines as Alex's had been done already and so was a rerun in some ways. Also his time after coming down the mountain had a completely unrealistic, forced feel to me although I did value its nightmarish quality and the way Alex was used by God after surrendering himself completely. It felt tacked on, especially once he was moved further east. This is a problem I ran up against in the one previous O'Brien book I read. It was as if having satisfactorily reached the last fourth of the book, he felt some compulsion to ratchet up the pace in a way that was completely out of synch with the rest of the book. In this book, I found many of the plot points at the end completely ridiculous. I'd have preferred it if some points were left hanging rather than reading the explanation that the author provided.

Oddly enough, despite my complaints about things going on too long, I felt as if Andrew's story, once finally revealed, was incomplete. Too short, too few details ... more of "a shot rang out and everyone dropped dead" quality.

Interesting.

So, it is a good book and worth reading, but definitely not perfect. I am not sure where I'd do it if I were the editor, but I don't think it needed to be so long to tell the story. Long, yes. 1,077 pages long, no.

"That was my papa's hat," Kiril informed him with a smile that said, I'm glad it's on your head; it's a fine thing to see it in use; that's what hats are for. And so Alex felt the pain of his new role, a transient father filling in the gap left by the real father. A token hat. Could a child survive on symbols alone?

Alex felt at such moment the strangeness of his situation, as if his life's meaning was taking a form that had been chosen for him by someone else, leaving him only small freedoms. Within that limited zone he could choose to love or not love, to speak truth or not speak it. But it was undeniable that he was locked within a prison of circumstances.

He reminded himself that he was not in solitary confinement. This was some comfort, but it did not answer the fundamental question: Why was he here? If life was neither purely accident nor purely determined, what was going on? Was it a mixture of accidental and determined? And why was the world perceived so differently by two souls standing side by side? For Alex, the world threatened at every moment to become a neo-Pavlovian maze. For Kiril, it was always a vast playing field. Which of the two was the correct view of existence? Neither? Both?

You may read a longer excerpt of a section I particularly liked here.

The Martians Are Attacking and Only Gil Chesterton Can Stop Them! Reviewing "The Tripods Attack!"

The Tripods Attack! by John McNichol

I read the second book of this series first (my review here) just because the initial book, The Tripods Attack!, was being reprinted at the time. However, I recently received Tripods where we are introduced to a steampunk world in which young Gilbert Chesterton, recently orphaned, went from his home in Minnesota and found himself working in a computer factor in London (they call it something else, but punchcards and machines work everything so these are early computers). Downtrodden, barely making a living, and with no discernibly bright future, Gil is unexpectedly called into the Chairman's office one day and upgraded to journalist. He is sent to Wokking to investigate mysterious happenings, which any science fiction fan worth their salt will recognize as the Martian invasion written of in War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells.

Along the way, Gil meets Herb Wells, a level-headed cleric named Father Brown, and a mysterious Doctor who seems to know more about the Martians than he lets on. There is also a beautiful red-headed woman who seems to always whisk around corners when Gil is just about to be able to speak to her.

The Tripods Attack! is an enjoyable mash-up of real and fictional characters in a vividly portrayed world where anything can happen. I would have preferred less time spent in the tunnels where the story seemed to drag on at times. Also, when occasionally told the Martians' thoughts I was jerked out of the story. Their actions spoke for themselves and knowing what they felt didn't further the story any.

As with the second book, The Emperor of North America, here are strains of Catholic worldview that are shown as part of various characters' moral fiber and others are shown espousing different views that are set in opposition. We see how Gil became Catholic and how Herb's "foxhole conversion" affects his life. These weren't preachy or moralistic, and weren't not the main focus of the action, although again they definitely motivated actions. As with all things of this nature, your milage may vary.

This is definitely a fun book and I recommend it.

More Book Lists

Sherry at Semicolon is opening up her comments as usual on a Saturday, except that today she's inviting people to link to their 2011 Best Book Lists. Which I did, natch!

AND she's adding recommendations for the readers in the comments. Now that's a blogger who understands community ... and reading! Check it out at Semicolon.

Also, while you're there, check out her other posts. She's run a series of links to other bloggers' best book lists and future reading lists. Great stuff!

Weekend Joke

An oldie but a goodie.

One bright, beautiful Sunday morning, everyone in tiny Anytown got up early and went to the local church. Before the service started, the townspeople were sitting in their pews and talking about their lives, their families, and so on.

Suddenly, Satan appeared at the front of the church.

Everyone started screaming and running for the front entrance, trampling each other in a frantic effort to get away from evil incarnate. Soon everyone had left the church except for an elderly gentleman who sat calmly in his pew, not moving, seemingly oblivious to the fact that God's ultimate enemy was in his presence.

Now, this confused Satan a bit, so he walked up to the man and said, "Hey! Don't you know who I am?"

The man replied, "Yep, sure do."

Satan asked, "Aren't you afraid of me?"

"Nope, sure ain't," said the man.

Satan was a little perturbed at this and queried, "Why aren't you afraid of me?"

The man calmly replied, "I've been married to your sister for 25 years."

Fathers and Sons and Rembrandt

The Return of the Prodigal Son

c. 1669

Oil on canvas, 262 x 206 cm

The Hermitage, St. Petersburg

via Web Gallery of Art

This is a very long but moving passage from The Father's Tale by Michael O'Brien. I quite liked it and think it gives a good representation of what I liked in the book. To set the scene, Alex Graham has pursued his son from Great Britain to Scandinavia to Russia, trying to rescue him from the cult that has him in its clutches. He's not sure whether his son is with them willingly or not. Therefore, sons and fathers are much on his mind at present. The review will come next week, but for now, enjoy this.

When his head cleared a little, he looked up. Before him was Rembrandt's Return of the Prodigal Son.

At first glance, the painting seemed to be immense, because he was standing only a few feet from it, and he was forced to crane his neck as he looked up from the battered feet of the son, through the tender hands that embraced him, to the face of the father.

Alex stepped back a few paces.

Red, umber, and sepia bathed the image in warmth. The son knelt before the father with his head on the old man's chest, as if seeking refuge in the folds of his garments. The father bent over him, both hands on his son's back, the fingers splayed slightly, palm to the flesh that had come from him, that had fled from him, and that was now returning to him. The hands protected and comforted. The tilt of the aged head and the half-lidded eyes conveyed infinite compassion, a wisdom that was in no way naive about the sins of the son but that submerged all wrongs in mercy. The dignity of the father embraced the degraded son in a communion that would restore him to his lost dignity.

To the right, robed in a different kind of dignity—that of the righteous, the good, the responsible—was the elder brother, who regarded the scene dubiously, and with resentment. His upright body was unbending, his hands clasped tightly around the staff of his authority.

Alex could hear the words of protest muttered by the elder son: "This son of yours..."

And the words of the father's answer: "This brother of yours..."

Was lost and is found.

Alex closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them again, he noticed that the youth who had been going slowly from picture to picture at the far ends of the gallery now stood a pace to his left. Oblivious to Alex's presence, he gazed solemnly at the image, his arms hanging by his sides.

Alex regretted the interruption but stepped aside to allow the other a central place before the painting. He expected the interloper to move on quickly, but minutes passed. How long they remained like this was impossible. to tell. The boy's stillness and rapt attention to the painting were inexplicable. He was in his late teens or early twenties, and Alex wondered how one so young would be capable of such concentration, if concentration it was Why was he not at school? Why was he not tinkering in the innards of a car engine, or pounding around an athletic field?

His face in no way displayed typical Slavic features. It was quintessentially primitive, the forehead slanted, brow ridges heavy, eyes small and inexpressive, cheeks hollow. His thin lips were parted slightly, and his chin was unevenly shaved. Brown hair was cropped close to the skull. His hands were large and his fingernails dirty. His blunt and muscular body was a peasant's torso with slightly bowed legs hinting at malnutrition. He wore a dingy green coat full of holes, and baggy workman's pants with cuffs suspended inches above wet, down-at-heel shoes.

Heaving a sigh as old and as freighted as humanity, the youth caught himself, perhaps becoming fully aware that there was another person beside him. He shot a swift glance at Alex and shifted his body away. His face, which had been open and defenseless while absorbed in the painting, now closed in on itself, guarded and anonymous.

Alex too retreated into himself, wishing the other would depart.

Eventually the youth turned a few degrees in Alex's direction and murmured, "Zto horosho." It is good.

"Yes," Alex replied in the same tone, "it is good."

Now it was possible to attempt more.

"The father..." said the youth.

"Yes, and the son..." Alex replied.

"And...you see...the hands..."

Each sentence was left unfinished with spaces of many seconds between the responses. It was neither interruption nor inarticulation; it seemed to Alex that it was a necessary reduction, so that speech would not ruin what was now flowing back and forth between them.

"The boy...he came home," said the youth.

"And the father ran out to meet him," Alex replied.

A sudden tension crossed the youth's face. "If the father had not, what then?"

"But the son trusted."

"He risked..."

"The father also risks."

The youth turned to face Alex. He crossed his arms as if holding himself, as if he were cold.

"I...my..." He looked down at the floor, his eyes haunted.

For a moment or two, Alex could find nothing to say, and when he spoke he did not know where the thought had come from:

"The son should return to the father," he said.

"But what if the father does not want the son?" replied the youth.

"If he does not, then the son must remember." Alex pointed at the old man in the image. "Remember this face. It is a window. Through it you see the hidden face."

"The hidden face?"

"Yes. He is looking at you."

The youth glanced up at the painting again. Then back at Alex.

"How...this speaking...you and me speaking?"

"I seek..."

"You seek your son?"

"Yes. He is lost."

"I think maybe you will find him. A father such as you will find him."

"Will he want me?"

"I do not know. But I think it will be so."

"And your father?"

Once again a spasm of pain crossed the boy's face. He did not answer.

"Have you lost him?" Alex asked.

"I have run from him."

"You must return to him."

"Will he want me?"

"I hope it will be so. He should want a son such as you."

"But..."

"It may be he does not yet know you."

"Who are you?" the youth asked.

"You know me."

"Do I know you, sir?"

"Yes. And I know you."

Strangely, this did not disturb the other, though he spent a minute pondering it.

"Surely we have met before?"

"No."

"But tell me, who are you?"

"I am you."

the boy uncrossed his arms. He opened his mouth but said nothing.

"As you will be, in time," Alex said.

"I..." The eyes blinked rapidly, withholding tears.

"The child is father of the man," Alex said, looking up at the father in the painting. "Remember his face, for he too is your father. Remember my face also, and the words we have spoken to each other."

The boy looked into the man's eyes and nodded. Unable to speak, he walked from the room.

Alex left the Hermitage soon after, overcome by this inexplicable exchange. It was by now late afternoon and growing cold. The rush hour traffic had begun in earnest along Nevsky, but despite the roar he decided to walk the entire length of it to the Moskva. It took more than an hour, but it seemed to him that time had continued to alter its nature. he looked into many hundreds of faces on the way, and in all of them he saw what he had seen in the face of the peasant youth.

All men are my son, and all women are my daughter.

He arrived at his hotel room after six o'clock. There no messages. He lay down on the bed and covered his eyes with a hand.

Best Movies of 2011

There's not much point in having only a year end list only of books, to my way of thinking. We've got to include movies too. Not that I watched that many movies, but in looking back over my journal, there were some that definitely stood out above the crowd.

This list is based on what was new to me this year, not solely on what was a new release.

• Midnight in Paris - the Golden Age in the City of Lights from Woody Allen (my review here)
• Exit Through the Gift Shop - documentary about an eccentric French shop keeper and amateur film maker who attempted to befriend famed graffiti artist Banksy, only to have the artist turn the camera back on him. Brilliant.
• True Grit (2010) - gritty, funny, and (I'm told) truer to the book than the original movie (my snapshot comments are here)
• The King's Speech - before King George VI of Britain was forced to ascend to the throne by his brother's Edward abdication, he struggled mightily with stuttering with the help of an unconventional speech therapist. The story is sensitively told and brilliantly portrayed by all.
• To Be or Not to Be (1942) - Jack Benny and Carole Lombard, directed by the great Ernst Lubitsch. During the Nazi occupation of Poland, an acting troupes helps track down a German spy. Really funny while making a definite statement about the tragedy of the Polish occupation. Watching this made me appreciate Lombard's acting skill.
• Up in the Air - corporate downsizer corporate downsizer Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) lives an isolated existence traveling the country firing people and giving seminars on success. Even he balks, however, at the changes proposed by a young woman and when he is called up on to show her the ropes, both their lives change (my snapshot comments are here)
• Gone Baby Gone - This tale a a young couple detecting a little girl's kidnapping was as wonderful as critics said. The story was morally grounded and made me want to look for Dennis Lehane's books, as this was based on one of his. All round a wonderful movie.
• Waking Sleeping Beauty - how Walt Disney Studios went in a mere ten-year period from the depths of The Black Cauldron to the heights of animation in Beauty and the Beast and The Lion King is the subject of this behind-the-scenes documentary from the point of view of the animators (my review is here)

You Know What I Love?

That I saw on Facebook that my mother is playing Words with Friends.

My mom. On Facebook. Words with Friends.

She also has had a Kindle for a while.

This lady is the most happening person at her assisted living place.

Let's not even get into how she and her friends have the "party table" at dinner every night. You know. The one with the bottles of wine and the laughing and joking.

Yep.

I love it.

Best Books of 2011

Best to me, of course, not definitively "best," which is impossible to say.

This was the year I was not going to do a "best of" list.

Not. going. to.

Done and done.

And then The Anchoress challenged me and put her own book list up. Plus she put Brandon Vogt's 2011 book list link ... which further challenged me.

Darn it.

In general I tend to be puzzled by many Catholic's book lists. So many religious books, so few zombie books. Although, I note with approval that Brandon read the Harry Potter series last year. There is hope.

So here we go, top 10 books with descriptions in 10 words or less. Plus a few bonus items at the end.

1. Mystery of Grace by Charles DeLint
   Urban fantasy about Grace (the person) and grace (of God). (discussion/review at A Good Story is Hard to Find)
   
   
2. East of Eden by John Steinbeck
   Genesis, Cain, and Abel ... in California. (review at A Free Mind; discussion/review at A Good Story is Hard to Find)
   
   
3. Story of a Soul by St. Therese of Lisieux
   Little things can make you a saint. (review at A Free Mind)
   
   
4. Patient Zero by Jonathan Maberry
   Red, white, blue, and zombies. (review at SFFaudio)
   
   
5. The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom
   Concentration camps and God from an unlikely storyteller. (review at A Free Mind)
   
   
6. White Cat / Red Glove (The Curse Workers series) by Holly Black
   When a touch can curse, gloves alone can't protect you (SFFaudio reviews: White Cat / Red Glove)
   
   
7. Declare by Tim Powers
   WWII, Cold War spies, and the supernatural with Catholic details. (discussion/review at A Good Story is Hard to Find)
   
   
8. The Jewish Roots of the Eucharist by Brant Pitre
   What the title says. (review at Happy Catholic)
   
   
9. Desert of Souls by Howard Andrew Jones
   Rattling good adventure in ancient Arabia with djinn and improbable heroes (review at Happy Catholic)

BONUS

AUTHOR DISCOVERIES

• Diana Wynne Jones - I never knew how fabulous her books were or how inventive or how different they were from each other. Thank heavens my pal D.J. took it upon herself to lend me carefully selected stories each month. YA fantasy that is a treat for any age to read.
  
  
• Norbert Davis - who wrote the short but memorable series featuring Doan and Carstairs. Doan is a short, chubby man in rumpled clothes who, despite appearances, is "the most dangerous little devil I've ever seen, and he's all the worse because of that half-witted manner of his. You never suspect what he's up to until it's too late." At least that what his boss says. Carstairs is his Great Dane who is one of the most intelligent characters ever included in mysteries. Together they are a duo to reckon with. And the stories are not only interesting but are tinged with humor throughout.
  
  
• Louis L'Amour - I grew up scorning Western stories, even though I did occasionally dip into Zane Grey along the way. I'm not sure what made me sample a few of Louis L'Amour's short story collections on my Kindle. I was surprised to find his stories compelling and so picked up this collection via Paperback Swap. He has a talent for making you speed to the end of the story even when you're fairly sure you know what will happen ... because you're only fairly sure and often he flips the story just a bit on you.

SERIES REREADING

Two words.

Harry Potter.

When the last movie came out, it made me suddenly realize that the Potter books probably were available in audiobook format. Sure enough they were and Jim Dale's narration was nothing short of inspired. I began at book one and "reread" them all. Surprisingly, I remembered only a few key elements of the last three books and so was able to experience them once again with breathless anticipation.

A truly wonderful experience.

What a Great Christmas!

I have to say that one of my favorite things about Christmas is going to Mass. I never want to go before-hand, but when I am there I am always so glad that the Church requires it. Nothing reminds me more of why Christmas matters and puts the rest of the day into proper perspective. I am more grateful and happy afterward for that very reason.

That aside,  we ate a lot (the roasted pork shoulder came out a treat ... I resorted to my old Doubleday cookbook and roasted it at 325 for 40 minutes a pound), played games, laughed, listened to music, had many a Christmas cookie, and much merriment ensued from all the above. We also received a good many wonderful gifts, among them a streaming box so that Tom doesn't have to hook his computer up to the TV in order for us to watch Hulu (or other similar things). He has been playing with that and having a very good time learning the ropes and seeing what is out there for free.

A couple of standouts for me ...

FAMILY GAME
A standout at this point is the family game for the year, Pandemic. The goal of Pandemic is for the players, in their randomly-selected roles, to work cooperatively to stop the spread of four diseases and cure them before a pandemic occurs. I was fascinated to think of a game requiring cooperation from all players, rather than rivalry. All the reviews I read on Amazon spoke glowingly of how much fun it was and many appreciatively mentioned the "cooperation" element. I had to try it.

It turns out that this game is addictive. It is the nearest thing I can imagine to a role playing, computer game, but in board game form. You just have to keep trying to cure those darned diseases before the game beats you and that keeps you coming back time after time as you think of new strategies.

In the "introductory" game playing mode, we had to play four or five times before we finally beat it by curing all four diseases. We are now curious to try it in "regular" mode.

Highly recommended.

TILTING TEAPOT

Tom really surprised me by giving me a Tilting Teapot. I saw this so long ago that I'd forgotten all about it. And, the poor guy had to buy it from Canada because they only have one distributer on this continent. Nonetheless, it was a sheer delight because of those things and more.

The idea is that you lie it down to put in the tea (in a little compartment) and water in the larger chamber. After brewing, it tilts up to keep the leaves out of the water. And when it is standing, that is when the hotel staff brings you more. Not having a hotel staff, I am having to learn a new skill set in order to keep the tea leaves from floating out of their compartment into the pot, but it is great fun. And makes a good cuppa, too!

Gone for now ... back on Tuesday

I'll stick this at the top of the blog.

I have a few things ready to come up over the holidays, so just scroll down ... but in the meantime let me wish you a very Merry Christmas.

I hope your Advent has been a fruitful one. Mine certainly has and I am longing to welcome the Christ Child ... and also to reap the benefits of all the Christmas baking, planning, and decorating that have been going on at our house.

Have a wonderful time and I'll see you soon!

Christmas Playlist

I picked up three new Christmas CDs this year and two went on our permanent household favorites list.

The one that didn't was Christmas Party With Eddie G. which was so much like Bob Dylan's Theme Time Radio Hour that it conclusively proved who the genius was behind that concept (for which we are forever grateful). However, it isn't something you like to have pop up constantly in your play list.

1. What a Wonderful Christmas - Louis Armstrong & Others (a new one, purchased after I heard Jazz Record Requests ... a BBC show ... play "Zat You, Santa Claus?"
2. A Christmas Gift For You From Phil Spector - when I was looking for the Louis Armstrong cd, I kept coming across this. Many described it as a "wall of sound" which can be good or bad. In this case, it works ... as long as you like The Ronettes. Which we do. 

We added this to our usual playlist, which you may read all about here, but for the short version I'll tell you that it includes:

• Let It Snow Baby, Let It Reindeer - Reliant K
• Ella Wishes You a Swingin' Christmas - Ella Fitzgerald
• I Wanna Be Santa Claus - Ringo Starr
• Christmas With the Rat Pack

Romeo and Juliet in Limerick Form

My friend DJ wrote this delightful piece. It is too good to keep to myself so, with her permission, I am sharing it. For best effect, read aloud (with dramatic gestures). It's what I did.

Romeo and Juliet
(with apologies to Wm. Shakespeare)


In Verona, a city so fair,
Two families were oft feuding there.
In this mess we do find
Star-crossed lovers entwined
And I fear that they haven’t a prayer.

Young Romeo and family most rash,
A Capulet part did crash.
‘twas there that he met
The sweet Juliet
And fell deep in love, in a flash.

Poor Juliet felt rather blue.
Her beau was a dread Montague.
Yet she loved just the same
Asking “What’s in a name”
Still she didn’t know what she should do.

Then Romeo that lover so keen
Climbed to her on vines, strong and green.
Together these two
Vowed they’d always be true
In what’s known as the balcony scene.

But trouble in Verona did grow
When Tybalt stabbed Mercutio.
Cried he “You’re all louses,
A plague on your houses!
I’m dead from a murderous blow.”

Wedded bliss just was not meant to be
For Romeo slew Tybalt you see.
As the Princes’ law writ
Romeo’s live was forfeit
So our hero had to pack up and flee.

A plan to fake death went awry
When Romeo thought Juliet did die –
So he offed himself then
She did herself in.
Thus together entombed they both lie.

Then the Prince scolded both families
Take a look at these two, if you please.
Because of your hate
Juliet and her mate
Are now one of the Bard’s tragedies.

Solid Common Sense from a Non-Believer on the "War on Christmas"

John Scalzi, popular science fiction author, says what we all know as he answers the email question: Any thoughts on the current state of the War on Christmas™?

Here’s the thing: If you’re using the holiday season to go out of your way to be an asshole to someone, believer or non-believer, you’re doing it wrong, and I wish you would stop. That’s not a war, it’s a slap fight and it’s embarrassing. As a non-believer, when someone says “Merry Christmas” to me, I say “Merry Christmas” back, because generally speaking I understand that what “Merry Christmas” means in this context is “I am offering you good will in a way I know how,” and I appreciate that sentiment. Left to my own devices, I use “Happy holidays” because I know a lot of people who aren’t Christians (or at least Christmas-centered) and that seems the best way to express my own good will; the vast majority of people get what I’m doing and appreciate that sentiment too.

Here's a bit but do go read it all (note: occasional off-color language).

North Korea's Information Isolation

Jen at Ambrose-a-rama has great links about what life is like inside North Korea, including one to a piece with this stunning statement:

When I visited North Korea on a tightly managed trip in 2005, I was well into an hour of chatting with a local mountain guide, a former military man, when he paused and asked sincerely about a detail of American nuclear policy: “I don’t understand why you had to use nuclear weapons in Iraq.” He was a handpicked interlocutor for foreigners, with a warm coat and privileged access to information, and he was, by all evidence, convinced that America had nuked Iraq (or was willing to maintain the charade that it had). I had a hard time coming up with another closed society in which the words from the top had been so efficiently delivered to the bottom. If that’s what he thinks about the occasional use of nuclear weapons, I wondered, what else does he believe?

I have a sudden vision of a sci-fi type movie where the dome is lifted off of an entire society who never realized how the world really works around them. Mind boggling and so very sad.

Lemon Grass Pork ... It's What Was for Supper

Last week at our house. Get the recipe at Meanwhile, Back in the Kitchen.