-Hey, this is only here for wipin' a smile under your nose in time for Friday Night, ahead of the Labor Day Weekend ... :-) Love you guys ... and know what? We really don't have any problems after all.
No, I really got BAD problems. Like every time I take a shower, there's 20 gallons of water rushing out from the bottom of my night stand ... and absolutely no idea what's going on.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Big Friday Hook Up
With the inverter's battery cables run through the 1-inch holes drilled through the head (bathroom) cabinet, this morning came time to mount the 70-pound unit in its new home.
The inverter (above) creates 2000 watts of pure sine wave 110-volt AC from a bank of 12-volt golf cart batteries. So I can watch TV, charge the laptop, use the microwave and other conveniences while anchored out, without having to waste fuel by using Calypso's diesel generator (if the genset actually worked, I mean).
The tools practically start jumping up and barking every time they see the coffee cup in my hand, because that means I'm about to release the hounds on a new project.
Here's where the inverter's gotta go (note red & black battery cables previously installed in background). I measured often and carefully, so I've go no doubts everything's gonna fit and fall into place. No problem.
First, the DC cables gotta be bolted to the inverter (the cables aren't yet hooked to the batteries, so they aren't "live").
A little heavy lifting ... and we're underway. Nothing to it so far.
Uh oh Portman, we have a problem. The shelf over the cabinet is keeping me from rotating the inverter into place, with the bottom side down, and creating a critical What-Do-We-Do-Now? wedgey. Suddenly the situation looks dicey indeed.
A little wiggling and some creative carpentry finally moved the shelf outta the way (the best thing about a hammer is it doesn't require batteries and never needs recharging).
Success! Now with that chore finished I'm almost done ... if completing the first 5% of the installation counts for anything.
The inverter (above) creates 2000 watts of pure sine wave 110-volt AC from a bank of 12-volt golf cart batteries. So I can watch TV, charge the laptop, use the microwave and other conveniences while anchored out, without having to waste fuel by using Calypso's diesel generator (if the genset actually worked, I mean).
The tools practically start jumping up and barking every time they see the coffee cup in my hand, because that means I'm about to release the hounds on a new project.
Here's where the inverter's gotta go (note red & black battery cables previously installed in background). I measured often and carefully, so I've go no doubts everything's gonna fit and fall into place. No problem.
First, the DC cables gotta be bolted to the inverter (the cables aren't yet hooked to the batteries, so they aren't "live").
A little heavy lifting ... and we're underway. Nothing to it so far.
Uh oh Portman, we have a problem. The shelf over the cabinet is keeping me from rotating the inverter into place, with the bottom side down, and creating a critical What-Do-We-Do-Now? wedgey. Suddenly the situation looks dicey indeed.
A little wiggling and some creative carpentry finally moved the shelf outta the way (the best thing about a hammer is it doesn't require batteries and never needs recharging).
Success! Now with that chore finished I'm almost done ... if completing the first 5% of the installation counts for anything.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Upstairs, Part II
The staircase to the second floor seemed too narrow for two people to ascend side-by-side; presumably the Onion's working girls proceeded ahead of their patrons, winsomely leading them up the bare wood steps worn so deeply with use it seemed my boots might sink through the other side.
At the top, the landing leading to the individual rooms felt even more narrow than the stairs. Nothing in its seclusive interior appeared to have been changed or "updated" in the 90 years since The Onion's red-light heyday: the only thing missing from the last century were the echoes of piano music and the din of bawdy patrons swelling from the shell of the tired saloon downstairs.
That, and the dissociated patter of bleary-eyed girls more concerned with depositing cash in their tills than with the tasks about to be performed for the uncounted time that night.
-----
Aspen had become boom town by the mid-1880s, attracting thousands of wide-eyed dreamers and prospectors from around the globe, unmarried men and drifters emboldened with dreams of "striking it rich" by subtracting their share from the deep veins of the Mother Lode.
Shaft mining was (and still is) a treacherous, unforgiving way to earn a living, especially for the men who'd surrendered to the economic realities of wildcat prospecting and handed themselves over as menials to break rocks with picks at the end of mile-long tunnels buried thousands of feet underground for the benefit of owners whose profits sometimes seemed more staggering and imposing than the mountains themselves.
Odd assortments of physical artifacts and relics pointing back to the miners' toils, Victorian-era curiosities like rusted lanterns, shovels, stoves, ore carts and loose sticks of dynamite are still found in the original shafts: when the mines closed, cleaning up after themselves hardly seemed financially lucrative or worthwhile. The innominate remains of scores of miners are there too, luckless men who suddenly found themselves trapped beyond reach either by cave-ins, entombed where they fell to explosions, or otherwise fell victim to routine calamities like asphyxiation, floods, or being crushed and ripped apart by machines.
In 1893 President Grover Cleveland repealed the Sherman Silver Purchase Act, effectively kicking the legs out from under silver's value. All but worthless, silver's price plummeted overnight and within weeks dozens of mines (and bordellos) closed forever, forcing thousands of unemployed miners and hundreds of working girls into the streets ... with few options for the future and no direction to follow, beyond the one their boots were already pointing.
-----
What surprised me was that the tiny rooms upstairs where the ladies entertained still had furniture left over from the day. I remember what appeared to be original Victorian-pattern wall paper clinging to the grimy, stain-smeared walls and the gas light fixtures suspended overhead. How many other men had stood in that same spot, glanced around the room and seen the same things I was seeing now?
All that separated me from that day and a familiarity with the players' names, their faces and the deeds they'd performed was the unforgiving, inviolate rush of time. The air itself felt as though the last participants had merely excused themselves and stepped from the room momentarily, rather than endure my interruption, and might return at any second to resolve whatever unconsummated business they'd left behind.
As my flashlight played across the walls to the ceiling and picked out details a hundred years after the fact, I couldn't help sensing another conceit remained, something imparted and deeply soaked into the setting ... a glimmer of moments of lives uncollected, precious seconds cached and still unclaimed between shadows.
-----
What shocked me about the rooms wasn't the museum-caliber preservation, but that the rooms upstairs were so physically small, hardly larger than walk-in closets, and nothing at all like what I'd expected.
But then spaciousness and luxury weren't priorities for desperate, lonely men whose lives were spent trading blood for their dreams in gelid caverns so far underground.
-----
Should I have felt like a voyeur, an intruder standing in the uninvited middle of a performance leftover from last century as I gaped and wondered how many fortunes had changed hands, how many thousands of illicit couplings had occurred, and who'd been the last to trudge upstairs to those rooms?
The stage was still set and the props remained undisturbed and in place: nothing I could see had changed in almost 100 years since the last story had played. Nothing at all ... except that the names, faces and lives of the players had all been either rewritten, forgotten or finally lost forever in the embrace of time.
At the top, the landing leading to the individual rooms felt even more narrow than the stairs. Nothing in its seclusive interior appeared to have been changed or "updated" in the 90 years since The Onion's red-light heyday: the only thing missing from the last century were the echoes of piano music and the din of bawdy patrons swelling from the shell of the tired saloon downstairs.
That, and the dissociated patter of bleary-eyed girls more concerned with depositing cash in their tills than with the tasks about to be performed for the uncounted time that night.
-----
Aspen had become boom town by the mid-1880s, attracting thousands of wide-eyed dreamers and prospectors from around the globe, unmarried men and drifters emboldened with dreams of "striking it rich" by subtracting their share from the deep veins of the Mother Lode.
Shaft mining was (and still is) a treacherous, unforgiving way to earn a living, especially for the men who'd surrendered to the economic realities of wildcat prospecting and handed themselves over as menials to break rocks with picks at the end of mile-long tunnels buried thousands of feet underground for the benefit of owners whose profits sometimes seemed more staggering and imposing than the mountains themselves.
Odd assortments of physical artifacts and relics pointing back to the miners' toils, Victorian-era curiosities like rusted lanterns, shovels, stoves, ore carts and loose sticks of dynamite are still found in the original shafts: when the mines closed, cleaning up after themselves hardly seemed financially lucrative or worthwhile. The innominate remains of scores of miners are there too, luckless men who suddenly found themselves trapped beyond reach either by cave-ins, entombed where they fell to explosions, or otherwise fell victim to routine calamities like asphyxiation, floods, or being crushed and ripped apart by machines.
In 1893 President Grover Cleveland repealed the Sherman Silver Purchase Act, effectively kicking the legs out from under silver's value. All but worthless, silver's price plummeted overnight and within weeks dozens of mines (and bordellos) closed forever, forcing thousands of unemployed miners and hundreds of working girls into the streets ... with few options for the future and no direction to follow, beyond the one their boots were already pointing.
-----
What surprised me was that the tiny rooms upstairs where the ladies entertained still had furniture left over from the day. I remember what appeared to be original Victorian-pattern wall paper clinging to the grimy, stain-smeared walls and the gas light fixtures suspended overhead. How many other men had stood in that same spot, glanced around the room and seen the same things I was seeing now?
All that separated me from that day and a familiarity with the players' names, their faces and the deeds they'd performed was the unforgiving, inviolate rush of time. The air itself felt as though the last participants had merely excused themselves and stepped from the room momentarily, rather than endure my interruption, and might return at any second to resolve whatever unconsummated business they'd left behind.
As my flashlight played across the walls to the ceiling and picked out details a hundred years after the fact, I couldn't help sensing another conceit remained, something imparted and deeply soaked into the setting ... a glimmer of moments of lives uncollected, precious seconds cached and still unclaimed between shadows.
-----
What shocked me about the rooms wasn't the museum-caliber preservation, but that the rooms upstairs were so physically small, hardly larger than walk-in closets, and nothing at all like what I'd expected.
But then spaciousness and luxury weren't priorities for desperate, lonely men whose lives were spent trading blood for their dreams in gelid caverns so far underground.
-----
Should I have felt like a voyeur, an intruder standing in the uninvited middle of a performance leftover from last century as I gaped and wondered how many fortunes had changed hands, how many thousands of illicit couplings had occurred, and who'd been the last to trudge upstairs to those rooms?
The stage was still set and the props remained undisturbed and in place: nothing I could see had changed in almost 100 years since the last story had played. Nothing at all ... except that the names, faces and lives of the players had all been either rewritten, forgotten or finally lost forever in the embrace of time.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Upstairs, Inside The Onion After Hours
The Red Onion is a restaurant on the Cooper Street Mall in Aspen, Colorado. Originally built in the 1890s, the downstairs' most prominent feature is a long wooden bar, which goes a long way toward explaining The Onion's authentic look and feel of an old mining-town saloon.Back when I lived in Aspen, ownership changed hands often which, given the seasonal economic considerations of doing business in a resort town, translated to the reality that The Onion was very seldom (if ever) open for business ... and so sat neglected on its haunches behind the thin cover of newly-planted decorative trees, perhaps entertaining itself with recollections of a more ah, colorful past.
Back in the day, The Red Onion wasn't originally built to be a restaurant but a mining town bordello, with a saloon serving drinks downstairs to loosen-up patrons before its "painted ladies" escorted their marks upstairs for a few raucous moments of expensive diversion and sensual entertainment.
Apart from depictions in movies, there's not much left of the original Old West saloons around any more, and the one time I was fortunate to take a deep breath and venture up the stairs, The Red Onion was still full of itself ... and reeked its identity as the genuine thing.-----
No no no, don't start jumping to conclusions or get the wrong idea: I worked graveyard as a security guard back then, the empty Red Onion was a client, and one night another guard somehow secured a key to the front door and with our flashlights, the two of us dared venture inside.
Despite numerous renovations and "improvements" (like plumbing and electricity) through the years, with the electric power disconnected and the only illumination coming from our flashlights, it was easy to belly up to the century-old bar and imagine that a hundred years' time had never passed.
That night I felt as close to traveling back in time as I'd ever get. Staring back at the reflection of myself in the dim mirror behind the outrageously long bar, I had little trouble imagining myself belonging to a moment that had passed five generations before I was born.
Sure, The Onion had been open under various guises to the public off-and-on since its first life as a bordello had expired, but the second floor had always remained strictly off-limits, and all that 99.9999% of people knew consisted of what they could see from street level outside ... or of what they imagined the upstairs had been like in busier times.
So when Pat, the guard with the key, jerked his flashlight toward the narrow wood stairs I had little hesitation about finding out first-hand what The Onion had been all about. We were going to pay a visit to upstairs, inside a real Old West house of ill repute ...
So when's opening night again?
"One day I'll start trying to live a more Christ-filled life but in the meantime, I've got obligations and prior commitments demanding too much of my time and attention. But I'll get around to rehearsing my part soon as I can."
-memo to self:
The curtain's already up and there are no more rehearsals, postponements or sick calls, nor is there a stand-in or understudy for your role ... a part which continues uninterrupted and without intermission till the curtain falls on Closing Night. Check original author's script as often as necessary for additional clarification, as required.
-memo to self:
The curtain's already up and there are no more rehearsals, postponements or sick calls, nor is there a stand-in or understudy for your role ... a part which continues uninterrupted and without intermission till the curtain falls on Closing Night. Check original author's script as often as necessary for additional clarification, as required.
Come on, come on hurry up! Let's speed things up a little bit!
"Woe to those who draw sin along with cords of deceit,
and wickedness as with cart ropes,
and wickedness as with cart ropes,
to those who say, 'Let God hurry,
let him hasten his work
so we may see it.
Let it approach,
let the plan of the Holy One of Israel come,
so we may know it.'
Woe to those who call evil good
and good evil,
who put darkness for light
and light for darkness,
who put bitter for sweet
and sweet for bitter."
The keepers of the gates
I'm a member of a church that sure gets criticized an awful lot. Most of what I've heard the past 3 years goes beyond simple gossip and meanness, to the point where some critics doubt whether we're all actually on the same team.
Our church gets so many rotten eggs hurled in its direction not because there's a dozen or so of us out in the woods somewhere chanting, worshiping calves or waiting for UFOs, wearing snakes or drinking poison every Sunday morning. Nor does our church get vilified because it's occupied the same red-brick-and-a-steeple building (and had exactly the same members) for the past 80 years, or because it plays traditional 200 year old hymns at "reverent" volume through a pipe organ that cost more than a new aircraft carrier.
If any of those situations was the case, I feel pretty sure the critics would look the other way, find something else to distract them from preaching the gospel and leave us alone. So then what is it that keeps the critics so riled-up and firing brimstone arrows every chance they get?
Could it be because there's finally a church impacting an entire community for Christ ... and the critics-in-the-pulpits are tired of trying to figure out how to answer, "Preacher, how do you explain what's happening over there?"
Their problem is that they can't explain something they've never seen or expected before ... so criticizing someone else is the best they can do.
------
Someone with four lifetimes more vision and wisdom than me pointed out that Jesus wasn't crucified by the tax collectors, lepers, adulterers, prostitutes and sinners. Christ was crucified by the religious leaders and teachers of his time, who were already convinced in their own minds (probably by serving on committees) exactly what the Messiah was gonna be like ... and in their religious, tradition-loving eyes Jesus just wasn't it and didn't preach the message they way they wanted to hear it nor did he reach people by teaching the same way they'd taught themselves to teach.
Christ's message of forgiveness and salvation through grace, not through man-made rules and procedures, turned their scrolls inside out and shook the foundations of the priest-privileges and luxuries they enjoyed.
They'd become idolaters by centering their focus upon themselves, worshiping their man-made rituals and traditions as though their rules were greater than God, and became so removed from God that they failed to recognize the message of the living God when he was standing in plain view before them.
Christ took the legalistic guess-work out of salvation, and his critics couldn't stand to hear it ... nor let him get away with preaching it.
-----
I've been to churches where I didn't feel welcomed. I've sat on hard-backed pews in congregations where every holier-than-thou head seemed turned in my direction with mistrust, as if trying to figure out, "What's that guy doing here?" and then went out of their way to avoid me once the service had ended.
Nobody took much interest in finding out why I was there ... so long as I didn't put my hands in my pockets after the offering plate went by.
You get a definite feeling that if someone ever stood before a congregation like that and asked them, "Do you people go out of your way to insist on keeping sinners on the other side of that door and away from God's kingdom, or not?" you'd expect to get a thunderously overwhelming "YES!" of approval.
Probably a choir-full of Amen's, too ... though what you wouldn't get would be any clapping or arms lifted toward Heaven.
Now I wonder if the same congregation would answer the same question the same way with the same jubilation and enthusiam ... if it was Jesus Christ standing there who did the asking.
Our church gets so many rotten eggs hurled in its direction not because there's a dozen or so of us out in the woods somewhere chanting, worshiping calves or waiting for UFOs, wearing snakes or drinking poison every Sunday morning. Nor does our church get vilified because it's occupied the same red-brick-and-a-steeple building (and had exactly the same members) for the past 80 years, or because it plays traditional 200 year old hymns at "reverent" volume through a pipe organ that cost more than a new aircraft carrier.
If any of those situations was the case, I feel pretty sure the critics would look the other way, find something else to distract them from preaching the gospel and leave us alone. So then what is it that keeps the critics so riled-up and firing brimstone arrows every chance they get?
Could it be because there's finally a church impacting an entire community for Christ ... and the critics-in-the-pulpits are tired of trying to figure out how to answer, "Preacher, how do you explain what's happening over there?"
Their problem is that they can't explain something they've never seen or expected before ... so criticizing someone else is the best they can do.
------
Someone with four lifetimes more vision and wisdom than me pointed out that Jesus wasn't crucified by the tax collectors, lepers, adulterers, prostitutes and sinners. Christ was crucified by the religious leaders and teachers of his time, who were already convinced in their own minds (probably by serving on committees) exactly what the Messiah was gonna be like ... and in their religious, tradition-loving eyes Jesus just wasn't it and didn't preach the message they way they wanted to hear it nor did he reach people by teaching the same way they'd taught themselves to teach.
Christ's message of forgiveness and salvation through grace, not through man-made rules and procedures, turned their scrolls inside out and shook the foundations of the priest-privileges and luxuries they enjoyed.
They'd become idolaters by centering their focus upon themselves, worshiping their man-made rituals and traditions as though their rules were greater than God, and became so removed from God that they failed to recognize the message of the living God when he was standing in plain view before them.
Christ took the legalistic guess-work out of salvation, and his critics couldn't stand to hear it ... nor let him get away with preaching it.
-----
I've been to churches where I didn't feel welcomed. I've sat on hard-backed pews in congregations where every holier-than-thou head seemed turned in my direction with mistrust, as if trying to figure out, "What's that guy doing here?" and then went out of their way to avoid me once the service had ended.
Nobody took much interest in finding out why I was there ... so long as I didn't put my hands in my pockets after the offering plate went by.
You get a definite feeling that if someone ever stood before a congregation like that and asked them, "Do you people go out of your way to insist on keeping sinners on the other side of that door and away from God's kingdom, or not?" you'd expect to get a thunderously overwhelming "YES!" of approval.
Probably a choir-full of Amen's, too ... though what you wouldn't get would be any clapping or arms lifted toward Heaven.
Now I wonder if the same congregation would answer the same question the same way with the same jubilation and enthusiam ... if it was Jesus Christ standing there who did the asking.
Highly Unusual
I'm not up at 12:21AM, I'm still up at 12:21AM. Must be insomnia, because I hardly ever have trouble falling asleep.
Here's the last verse I read a little while ago, before turning out the lights:
"What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his Father's glory with the holy angels."
Mark 8:36-28 (NIV)
Here's the last verse I read a little while ago, before turning out the lights:
"What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his Father's glory with the holy angels."
Mark 8:36-28 (NIV)
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
"See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the basic principles of this world rather than on Christ."
-Colossians 2:8
"These people honor me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me.
Their worship is a farce,
for they teach man-made ideas as commands from God.'"
-Mark 7:7
"He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches."
- Revelation 3:22
-Colossians 2:8
"These people honor me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me.
Their worship is a farce,
for they teach man-made ideas as commands from God.'"
-Mark 7:7
"He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches."
- Revelation 3:22
Monday, August 27, 2007
Can't you hear the wind howl
Shoot, I dunno the difference between an icon and a gravatar, but this is my gravatar, for no good reason except that I like it.
The "Little Lie" Lie
Earlier this year I wrote a post mentioning that in our 16-year friendship, B and I have never once had a fight, argument, falling-out or anything even like it. I asked her about that the next time we talked, and after thinking a moment she confirmed Yes, after knowing each other for half of her entire life there's not been a single time either of us snapped back or recoiled in anger, slammed down the phone, administered the silent treatment ... or even raised a voice in the other person's direction.
B and I have been friends through both of our (separate) romantic episodes. Before she got engaged we met for lunch often, had dinner and were alone together occasionally. But even when we were both "unattached and available" there still wasn't one inappropriate word or innuendo to pass between us, not one "little slip-up" or a "Except for that one time" moment in our 16-year history. Nothing ever happened that even comes close.
Since meeting her, knowing and having B as a friend has been too important to risk losing, but there had to be something else that explained how two adults of opposite genders could remain friends for 16 years, without fighting (or disrepecting each other) a single time.
Just took me a long time to figure out what it might be.
-----
The other day a friend was telling me about some issues he's facing in a romantic relationship with a girl he's been seeing off-and-on for several years. The problem comes down to trust because, from what he told me, she's gotten into the habit of "fudging" the truth a little bit ... especially in situations when lying doesn't even seem worth the trouble.
Little stuff, like where she's going, which girlfriends she's hanging out with, and what time she got home from visiting her folks. Then when confronted with "the evidence," her explanation is usually,"I didn't think it mattered." Which then leads him to ask, "Then why lie instead of just telling the truth ... unless there's something you're hiding?"
Which often leads to a fight, because she just doesn't see the situation the same way.
-----
Who are you most likely to tell a lie ... your best friend, or your worst enemy? Are you more likely to lie to someone you cherish, respect and hold close, or to someone you despise, disrepect and don't mind pushing away? Which lie hurts you the most ... the one you're told by a friend, or the one you're told by an enemy? But isn't a Lie always a Lie? Every lie carries the same deceptive intention, along with a willingness to disregard and hurt the person standing in its direction.
Not even your worst enemy appreciates being told a lie; they already hate you and expect you to lie. So why lie to a friend in the first place, and merely confirm the worst things your enemies (and former friends) already know?
Telling lies is another way of saying, "You're too stupid to see nothing's more important in my world than me." Telling a lie is the same as shouting into someone's face, "YOU SUCK!"
Why is is that liars can't see that every lie starts with the two lies they tell to themselves: "He/she's too stupid to catch on, so I can get away with it" and "There's a good reason to lie." But it's the liar who never catches on, because a habitual liar is so deceived that they actually believe their own lies ... starting with those first two lies inside their head, the ones they're convinced no one else can possibly know or hear or see being acted out every day in their lives and relationships.
-----
But the girl in my friend's situation doesn't interpret what she's saying as Lying, or see that what she's doing is dishonest, because she "only does it to keep him from getting mad." She keeps missing the point that Lying is what "makes him mad," and Lying has the side effect of creating suspicion and commitment-killing mistrust as well.
Because if he can't trust her to tell the truth about little insignificant stuff, then how can he possibly trust her to tell the truth when it comes to the big important stuff in a relationship? Sounds like she also hasn't noticed that by the time telling "little white lies" starts to seem so easy, Lying has gone way past being a habit and is showing other people Lying and deception is your way of life.
So take a wild guess what the most-likely person willing to become romantically involved with a Liar is gonna be?
Hmm, that one wasn't as hard figuring out as it seemed.
-----
After describing several of his previous relationships through the years, my friend turned and asked, "Has there been one woman in your life, a woman who, so far as it's possible for you to know, has never once bent the truth or told you a lie?
"Outside of a casual acquaintance, name one woman who's never lied, and then tried to explain it was because she either changed her mind, or lied and argued it's no big deal or it just wasn't important, or lied to keep from hurting your feelings, or lied because she found something else she wanted to do that night, or made plans with you and then didn't follow through, or told you she'd call you and didn't, or been dating someone behind your back and explained "Oh, he's just a friend"?
Gosh, I'm so used to hearing those things so often by now that I'd forgotten they really are outright deceptions and Lies after all. I felt an uneasy hollowness reach out from my heart as I skimmed through the ragged chapters of former liaisons, girlfriends, relationship fiascoes, bad breakups and disastrous friendships.
It started looking like my friend was right, because they all shared the same recurring theme: Why does telling the truth seem so hard and too much to expect, when there's no reason to lie in the first place? Don't I deserve to be treated better than that?
-----
Finally I glanced back up and told him my answer. "B's never lied to me."
My friend's mouth literally fell open. He looked shocked, really stunned, and he was firm about demanding to know if I'd stand by that statement ... even if someone held a gun to my head.
"Yeah, I would" ... and that's telling the truth, too.
See, I knew there had to be something that explained how B and I could be friends for 16 years without fighting, screaming, arguing or falling-out a single time: She's never once lied to me ... and I feel pretty sure her unwavering honesty during all that time goes a long way toward explaining the bond and total trust at the core of our friendship.
B and I have been friends through both of our (separate) romantic episodes. Before she got engaged we met for lunch often, had dinner and were alone together occasionally. But even when we were both "unattached and available" there still wasn't one inappropriate word or innuendo to pass between us, not one "little slip-up" or a "Except for that one time" moment in our 16-year history. Nothing ever happened that even comes close.
Since meeting her, knowing and having B as a friend has been too important to risk losing, but there had to be something else that explained how two adults of opposite genders could remain friends for 16 years, without fighting (or disrepecting each other) a single time.
Just took me a long time to figure out what it might be.
-----
The other day a friend was telling me about some issues he's facing in a romantic relationship with a girl he's been seeing off-and-on for several years. The problem comes down to trust because, from what he told me, she's gotten into the habit of "fudging" the truth a little bit ... especially in situations when lying doesn't even seem worth the trouble.
Little stuff, like where she's going, which girlfriends she's hanging out with, and what time she got home from visiting her folks. Then when confronted with "the evidence," her explanation is usually,"I didn't think it mattered." Which then leads him to ask, "Then why lie instead of just telling the truth ... unless there's something you're hiding?"
Which often leads to a fight, because she just doesn't see the situation the same way.
-----
Who are you most likely to tell a lie ... your best friend, or your worst enemy? Are you more likely to lie to someone you cherish, respect and hold close, or to someone you despise, disrepect and don't mind pushing away? Which lie hurts you the most ... the one you're told by a friend, or the one you're told by an enemy? But isn't a Lie always a Lie? Every lie carries the same deceptive intention, along with a willingness to disregard and hurt the person standing in its direction.
Not even your worst enemy appreciates being told a lie; they already hate you and expect you to lie. So why lie to a friend in the first place, and merely confirm the worst things your enemies (and former friends) already know?
Telling lies is another way of saying, "You're too stupid to see nothing's more important in my world than me." Telling a lie is the same as shouting into someone's face, "YOU SUCK!"
Why is is that liars can't see that every lie starts with the two lies they tell to themselves: "He/she's too stupid to catch on, so I can get away with it" and "There's a good reason to lie." But it's the liar who never catches on, because a habitual liar is so deceived that they actually believe their own lies ... starting with those first two lies inside their head, the ones they're convinced no one else can possibly know or hear or see being acted out every day in their lives and relationships.
-----
But the girl in my friend's situation doesn't interpret what she's saying as Lying, or see that what she's doing is dishonest, because she "only does it to keep him from getting mad." She keeps missing the point that Lying is what "makes him mad," and Lying has the side effect of creating suspicion and commitment-killing mistrust as well.
Because if he can't trust her to tell the truth about little insignificant stuff, then how can he possibly trust her to tell the truth when it comes to the big important stuff in a relationship? Sounds like she also hasn't noticed that by the time telling "little white lies" starts to seem so easy, Lying has gone way past being a habit and is showing other people Lying and deception is your way of life.
So take a wild guess what the most-likely person willing to become romantically involved with a Liar is gonna be?
Hmm, that one wasn't as hard figuring out as it seemed.
-----
After describing several of his previous relationships through the years, my friend turned and asked, "Has there been one woman in your life, a woman who, so far as it's possible for you to know, has never once bent the truth or told you a lie?
"Outside of a casual acquaintance, name one woman who's never lied, and then tried to explain it was because she either changed her mind, or lied and argued it's no big deal or it just wasn't important, or lied to keep from hurting your feelings, or lied because she found something else she wanted to do that night, or made plans with you and then didn't follow through, or told you she'd call you and didn't, or been dating someone behind your back and explained "Oh, he's just a friend"?
Gosh, I'm so used to hearing those things so often by now that I'd forgotten they really are outright deceptions and Lies after all. I felt an uneasy hollowness reach out from my heart as I skimmed through the ragged chapters of former liaisons, girlfriends, relationship fiascoes, bad breakups and disastrous friendships.
It started looking like my friend was right, because they all shared the same recurring theme: Why does telling the truth seem so hard and too much to expect, when there's no reason to lie in the first place? Don't I deserve to be treated better than that?
-----
Finally I glanced back up and told him my answer. "B's never lied to me."
My friend's mouth literally fell open. He looked shocked, really stunned, and he was firm about demanding to know if I'd stand by that statement ... even if someone held a gun to my head.
"Yeah, I would" ... and that's telling the truth, too.
See, I knew there had to be something that explained how B and I could be friends for 16 years without fighting, screaming, arguing or falling-out a single time: She's never once lied to me ... and I feel pretty sure her unwavering honesty during all that time goes a long way toward explaining the bond and total trust at the core of our friendship.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Blog Wars
-from The Technological Nonsense Department
Those of you living in The Upstate who thought you heard thunder this afternoon may have sighed, "Great, it's raining ... just in time to ruin what's left of my weekend."
Well, what you witnessed wasn't a weather phenomenon at all: the thunder you heard was actually a horrific crash resulting from the collision of the two most pervasive forces in The Digital Empire, namely The Blue Book waging an unrestricted Blog War versus AVCLUB.
How could there possibly be a winner in such a cunning, Anything Goes, No Holds Barred, Lights Out Steel Cage Texas Death Match Loser-Must-Leave-Town exchange of digital mega-force? Is there any way to sift through the hot hard-disk ashes and charred web cinders, to know with certainty which side won?
Oh sure, AVCLUB's got its own stylized Death Star, but here at The Blue Book an Old Favorite is still The Best Favorite ... and "This is not the pirate you're looking for" works every time.
Just ask my new pal, Captain Calypso:
Ok here's what really happened: I crawled into Ken's office whining like a scalded three-legged cat, but before I could start begging and sobbing he generously offered me this awesome gift.
Thanks Ken!
Those of you living in The Upstate who thought you heard thunder this afternoon may have sighed, "Great, it's raining ... just in time to ruin what's left of my weekend."
Well, what you witnessed wasn't a weather phenomenon at all: the thunder you heard was actually a horrific crash resulting from the collision of the two most pervasive forces in The Digital Empire, namely The Blue Book waging an unrestricted Blog War versus AVCLUB.
How could there possibly be a winner in such a cunning, Anything Goes, No Holds Barred, Lights Out Steel Cage Texas Death Match Loser-Must-Leave-Town exchange of digital mega-force? Is there any way to sift through the hot hard-disk ashes and charred web cinders, to know with certainty which side won?
Oh sure, AVCLUB's got its own stylized Death Star, but here at The Blue Book an Old Favorite is still The Best Favorite ... and "This is not the pirate you're looking for" works every time.
Just ask my new pal, Captain Calypso:
Ok here's what really happened: I crawled into Ken's office whining like a scalded three-legged cat, but before I could start begging and sobbing he generously offered me this awesome gift.
Thanks Ken!
Got my origami on!
Dropped by AVCLUB's central headquarters this morning, and Ken took time to show me this origami pirate. Wow, it's really amazing to see all the fine details up close in real life 3D space/time:
Is that kewl? Arrrg yeah, and from now on I want him riding beside me in Calypso's helm every time I untie from the dock.
Is it really origami? I dunno, but ask this bad boy and watch what he says (he's got a hinged jaw that opens & closes). Oh heck yeah.
ps. Ken also convinced me to consider something like this:
A kitten tattoo? What is it about a kitten tattoo?
Is that kewl? Arrrg yeah, and from now on I want him riding beside me in Calypso's helm every time I untie from the dock.Is it really origami? I dunno, but ask this bad boy and watch what he says (he's got a hinged jaw that opens & closes). Oh heck yeah.
ps. Ken also convinced me to consider something like this:
A kitten tattoo? What is it about a kitten tattoo?
When waiting counts
The past five months I've been thinking about taking a rifle with me to TZ.
It's perfectly OK (with the right permits) so legality's not the issue; the question has more to do with considerations like (a) Which one could I afford to lose, or have stolen? (b) Will ammunition be available once I'm there? and (c) Which one is powerful enough (because there's things over there that bite real hard and aren't choosy about counting their calories either), without always being "over-gunned."
I've only got one rifle that fits all three criteria, so clearly that must be the "right" choice, right? Well, no. A rifle (particularly one intended for dangerous game) is more than just pieces of metal and wood held together with screws.
A mass-produced, off-the shelf generic one-size-fits-all rifle might fit and "feel right" for most guys and seem like the best choice, but it won't "feel right" for me if it doesn't fit, or if I have the slightest doubt about its quality or its dependability.
The choice becomes more complex remembering that my life, literally, could depend on making the right choice the very first time.
It's futile to expect uniqueness, personality or attractiveness from anything that's easily available or negotiable for a discount. The romance, mystery and intrigue just won't be there, ever, because its only value lies in using it until something better comes along.
A new rifle that arrives looking like it's already spent years being banged around in the back of a safari truck's just not worth keeping for the long haul.
-----
See, I expect us to be together through thick and thin for a long, long time and every time I steal a glance at or pick up my little rifle I wanna hear myself thinking, "Wow, it's not just that you're gorgeous, timelessly stylish and more finely assembled than a handmade Swiss timepiece.
"It's also that you've been designed with one purpose, that you're powerful, utterly capable, reliable and and totally dependable in the stickiest situations. You aren't just the right choice, you're the only choice ... and I'm confident if we're ever out on our own and things start getting hinky, so long as I do my part I can depend on you to do your part ... and together we'll keep our grass outta the fire and have a life-time of adventures together.
"It just feels good knowing you're here and there's not a day that goes by that I don't appreciate you even more. I've never had any doubt that you are the best choice I coulda possibly made. You've never showed me otherwise, and it was totally worth waiting to find you.
"That's just a few reasons why I'm glad you're here ... and I know by tomorrow I'll see even more."
OK, if talking to a rifle sounds weird, then imagine I was talking to a woman instead.
-----
Here's a fact: it's nothing for a man (or woman) to agonize over which rifle to choose from all the available choices and options, then wait six years for delivery of the "Best Royal Grade Rifle" custom-made to fit him or her in every way.
Waiting six years for a rifle seems worth it when that's what we've been looking for, know that's exactly what we want, and that anything less will never do.
But then other times people can't wait five minutes before jumping into bed with a new partner, or think nothing of diving into the first or most convenient relationship that drops into their laps ... because when it comes to waiting and making critical decisions that will affect and impact every facet of their lives forever, expecting folks to Wait for the One Custom-made to Fit in Every Way is asking too much, and they'll reach for whatever's still left on the shelf.
Heck they might even think it sounds stupid hearing that their lives will be impacted forever (think heart ache, or charging elephants) by jumping the gun early and making a mistake.
That's what sounds weird to me.
It's perfectly OK (with the right permits) so legality's not the issue; the question has more to do with considerations like (a) Which one could I afford to lose, or have stolen? (b) Will ammunition be available once I'm there? and (c) Which one is powerful enough (because there's things over there that bite real hard and aren't choosy about counting their calories either), without always being "over-gunned."
I've only got one rifle that fits all three criteria, so clearly that must be the "right" choice, right? Well, no. A rifle (particularly one intended for dangerous game) is more than just pieces of metal and wood held together with screws.
A mass-produced, off-the shelf generic one-size-fits-all rifle might fit and "feel right" for most guys and seem like the best choice, but it won't "feel right" for me if it doesn't fit, or if I have the slightest doubt about its quality or its dependability.
The choice becomes more complex remembering that my life, literally, could depend on making the right choice the very first time.
It's futile to expect uniqueness, personality or attractiveness from anything that's easily available or negotiable for a discount. The romance, mystery and intrigue just won't be there, ever, because its only value lies in using it until something better comes along.
A new rifle that arrives looking like it's already spent years being banged around in the back of a safari truck's just not worth keeping for the long haul.
-----
See, I expect us to be together through thick and thin for a long, long time and every time I steal a glance at or pick up my little rifle I wanna hear myself thinking, "Wow, it's not just that you're gorgeous, timelessly stylish and more finely assembled than a handmade Swiss timepiece.
"It's also that you've been designed with one purpose, that you're powerful, utterly capable, reliable and and totally dependable in the stickiest situations. You aren't just the right choice, you're the only choice ... and I'm confident if we're ever out on our own and things start getting hinky, so long as I do my part I can depend on you to do your part ... and together we'll keep our grass outta the fire and have a life-time of adventures together.
"It just feels good knowing you're here and there's not a day that goes by that I don't appreciate you even more. I've never had any doubt that you are the best choice I coulda possibly made. You've never showed me otherwise, and it was totally worth waiting to find you."That's just a few reasons why I'm glad you're here ... and I know by tomorrow I'll see even more."
OK, if talking to a rifle sounds weird, then imagine I was talking to a woman instead.
-----
Here's a fact: it's nothing for a man (or woman) to agonize over which rifle to choose from all the available choices and options, then wait six years for delivery of the "Best Royal Grade Rifle" custom-made to fit him or her in every way.
Waiting six years for a rifle seems worth it when that's what we've been looking for, know that's exactly what we want, and that anything less will never do.
But then other times people can't wait five minutes before jumping into bed with a new partner, or think nothing of diving into the first or most convenient relationship that drops into their laps ... because when it comes to waiting and making critical decisions that will affect and impact every facet of their lives forever, expecting folks to Wait for the One Custom-made to Fit in Every Way is asking too much, and they'll reach for whatever's still left on the shelf.
Heck they might even think it sounds stupid hearing that their lives will be impacted forever (think heart ache, or charging elephants) by jumping the gun early and making a mistake.
That's what sounds weird to me.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
On Facebook & stuff
I decided to kill 15 minutes this afternoon while Mr. Wonder-Washer takes care of tomorrow's jeans today, and wandered around Facebook's newest stupification (my word, yaaa), "COMPARE FRIENDS."
We'll skip over exactly what that means because I'm not sure what that means, but as I was about to click away from the page that revealed my friends apparently think Bald Eagles are more kissable than me, I noticed an ominous orange skull in a lower sidebar with the caption "Find Out When You Will Die."
I guess if a dummy clicked on the skull, paid them some money, a computer would then calculate the precise moment (if not the actual means) of his earthly departure.
Look I know computers are smart and everything, but come on, does anybody (except a dummy) really believe that type of forecasting actually works?
I mean, if I paid them my dummy-money and they said I was gonna die on such-and-such a date, shoot, then all I'd have to do is stay home and watch TV that day. End of forecast.
Just one reason why I'm pretty sure it's a scam ... and one more thing to interfere with my plans.
We'll skip over exactly what that means because I'm not sure what that means, but as I was about to click away from the page that revealed my friends apparently think Bald Eagles are more kissable than me, I noticed an ominous orange skull in a lower sidebar with the caption "Find Out When You Will Die."
I guess if a dummy clicked on the skull, paid them some money, a computer would then calculate the precise moment (if not the actual means) of his earthly departure.
Look I know computers are smart and everything, but come on, does anybody (except a dummy) really believe that type of forecasting actually works?
I mean, if I paid them my dummy-money and they said I was gonna die on such-and-such a date, shoot, then all I'd have to do is stay home and watch TV that day. End of forecast.
Just one reason why I'm pretty sure it's a scam ... and one more thing to interfere with my plans.
But I gave MYSELF permission
Ezekiel 3:20
"Again, when a righteous man turns from his righteousness and does evil, and I put a stumbling block before him, he will die. Since you did not warn him, he will die for his sin. The righteous things he did will not be remembered, and I will hold you accountable for his blood."
The Holy Spirit never gives us permission to sin; choosing to go ahead and sin anyway feels like a privilege we're entitled to grant ourselves anytime it seems convenient.
You've already heard this old saw: "God's already promised to forgive me for anything I do, so what's the big deal if I slip up and sin some anyway?"
Whoa, hold your horses. Grace isn't something we were given any choice about arbitrarily dispensing to ourselves. Grace comes from God's mercy alone, through Christ sacrificing himself on the cross for our sins ... not the other way around.
"Don't you know that when you offer yourselves to someone to obey him as slaves, you are slaves to the one whom you obey—whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness?"
Romans 6:16
Oh gosh, the word Sin sounds so Puritanical and Judgmental. You never hear the word "sin" outside of church anyway, so if a little sinning sounds like fun and isn't hurting anybody, that should be private stuff between God n' me or whoever I'm doing it with.
"Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of such things God's wrath comes on those who are disobedient."
Ephesians 5:6
There's a not-so-subtle difference between humbly asking for forgiveness and selfishly expecting to be forgiven. God knows our hearts, God knows where our faith truly lies, and God knows when we lie and deceive ourselves about living by our faith:
"For in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: "The righteous will live by faith."
Romans 1:17
God doesn't hate sin because sinning is fun, exciting and glamorous and he's not the grumpy old man upstairs who wants to make sure we're miserable, scared and brooding while we're living in his apartment downstairs. God hates sin because sin ignores his word and mocks his holiness: sin is pursuing our wants, instead of seeking his will.
All sin, any sin, is a deviation from God's flawless design and is therefore imperfect, pernicious, rebellious and unacceptable in his eyes. God hates sin because it's a perversion of his perfect design and plan for our lives. For believers, sinning means forgetting who we are, and ignoring who God planned for us to be:
"In his pride the wicked does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God."
Psalm 10:4
Only the enemy is foolish enough to believe he's smarter, more in touch or more powerful than God.
---
"Do not offer the parts of your body to sin, as instruments of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God, as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer the parts of your body to him as instruments of righteousness."
Romans 6:13
People willing to set their faith aside to pursue a good time in the moment are looking for a distraction from being reminded who they are in the present, believing that breaking God's law today will somehow fix what's broken inside them tomorrow. Sinning today has never been enough or satisfied them, but they still expect to be forgiven and free to sin the same way tomorrow. And next weekend too, if that's what happens to suit them.
Drugs (illegal or otherwise; or getting blasted with alcohol) sure sound appealing when reality seems dull or overwhelming. The prospect of sexual conquests (guys) and romantic adventures (ladies) are actually the two opposite sides of one sin coin revealed at the same time: a woman trading disinterested sex for emotion, and a man exchanging half-hearted emotion for sexual gratification.
"Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a man commits are outside his body but he who sins sexually sins against his own body."
1 Corinthians 6:18
All sin is abhorrent and separates us from God's perfect plan for our lives. Obedience means staying faithful during trials and temptations, keeping God's word in our hearts and honoring him in every thought, word and deed.
"Again, when a righteous man turns from his righteousness and does evil, and I put a stumbling block before him, he will die. Since you did not warn him, he will die for his sin. The righteous things he did will not be remembered, and I will hold you accountable for his blood."
The Holy Spirit never gives us permission to sin; choosing to go ahead and sin anyway feels like a privilege we're entitled to grant ourselves anytime it seems convenient.
You've already heard this old saw: "God's already promised to forgive me for anything I do, so what's the big deal if I slip up and sin some anyway?"
Whoa, hold your horses. Grace isn't something we were given any choice about arbitrarily dispensing to ourselves. Grace comes from God's mercy alone, through Christ sacrificing himself on the cross for our sins ... not the other way around.
"Don't you know that when you offer yourselves to someone to obey him as slaves, you are slaves to the one whom you obey—whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness?"
Romans 6:16
Oh gosh, the word Sin sounds so Puritanical and Judgmental. You never hear the word "sin" outside of church anyway, so if a little sinning sounds like fun and isn't hurting anybody, that should be private stuff between God n' me or whoever I'm doing it with.
"Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of such things God's wrath comes on those who are disobedient."
Ephesians 5:6
There's a not-so-subtle difference between humbly asking for forgiveness and selfishly expecting to be forgiven. God knows our hearts, God knows where our faith truly lies, and God knows when we lie and deceive ourselves about living by our faith:
"For in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: "The righteous will live by faith."
Romans 1:17
God doesn't hate sin because sinning is fun, exciting and glamorous and he's not the grumpy old man upstairs who wants to make sure we're miserable, scared and brooding while we're living in his apartment downstairs. God hates sin because sin ignores his word and mocks his holiness: sin is pursuing our wants, instead of seeking his will.
All sin, any sin, is a deviation from God's flawless design and is therefore imperfect, pernicious, rebellious and unacceptable in his eyes. God hates sin because it's a perversion of his perfect design and plan for our lives. For believers, sinning means forgetting who we are, and ignoring who God planned for us to be:
"In his pride the wicked does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God."
Psalm 10:4
Only the enemy is foolish enough to believe he's smarter, more in touch or more powerful than God.
---
"Do not offer the parts of your body to sin, as instruments of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God, as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer the parts of your body to him as instruments of righteousness."
Romans 6:13
People willing to set their faith aside to pursue a good time in the moment are looking for a distraction from being reminded who they are in the present, believing that breaking God's law today will somehow fix what's broken inside them tomorrow. Sinning today has never been enough or satisfied them, but they still expect to be forgiven and free to sin the same way tomorrow. And next weekend too, if that's what happens to suit them.
Drugs (illegal or otherwise; or getting blasted with alcohol) sure sound appealing when reality seems dull or overwhelming. The prospect of sexual conquests (guys) and romantic adventures (ladies) are actually the two opposite sides of one sin coin revealed at the same time: a woman trading disinterested sex for emotion, and a man exchanging half-hearted emotion for sexual gratification.
"Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a man commits are outside his body but he who sins sexually sins against his own body."
1 Corinthians 6:18
All sin is abhorrent and separates us from God's perfect plan for our lives. Obedience means staying faithful during trials and temptations, keeping God's word in our hearts and honoring him in every thought, word and deed.
Great Deal, or No Deal at all?
"If you go shopping looking for a deal, you're going to find and go home with one."
-advice I received from a preeminent antique collector
Depending on traffic, it usually takes anywhere between 47 and 48 seconds to drive the 200 yards from the dock parking lot to the marina cafeteria (if you're asking "Why not just walk?" it's because after 3 or 12 beers, everybody loves the challenge of hitting a moving target- especially a bumbling, flat-footed target like me).
Last night 47 seconds was just long enough to tune in 106.9 and hear a snippet from Chip Ingram, who asked his live congregation, "When you look back on your life and think of all the things that caused you the most anguish, hurt and frustration isn't it strange that the pains we remember come from our relationships, and not from things in our finances?" (my paraphrase).
Chip was emphasizing the folly of worrying about money, but I want to take his question in a different direction because it got me thinking, "If we already know our emotional vulnerability is intertwined with our relationships, then why the heck aren't we more careful when it comes to making decisions about who we're gonna start dating in the first place?"
I mean, I'm just about 100% convinced I'll never suddenly wake up and find myself at the altar, married to a woman I'm meeting for the very first time.
No, we're gonna start dating first ... and I'm also convinced a First Date must come before a second (or even 19th) date. So it's much easier walking around emotional minefields, even if it takes longer and requires more patience, than it is convincing myself it's perfectly safe to close my eyes, cover my ears and try tap-dancing my way through. Even when I'm in a hurry to get where I'm going.
Or maybe you're tired of sitting around bored on weekends, but not necessarily interested in commitment or even starting a relationship, and decided "recreational dating" is a valid substitute for the real pursuit. But a little recreational dating is like having a little "recreational exploratory surgery" and happens for the same reason: you're uneasy about what's causing all the heart pains and stomach-churning deep down inside, and whether it's ever going to stop.
---
It's only after a First Date that the tiny seed of a commitment can take root , or that a bad relationship can start growing tangled vines around the trunk protecting around our hearts and its weight can begin holding us back from growth.
Looking back now, I see how often a Weed-Eater (or better yet, a John Deere riding mower) was actually what I needed ... not adding fertilizers or hormones by following-up with a second date.
-In 1921 this Holland & Holland .577 Nitro Express double rifle sold for about $1500. Two years ago the same rifle went for $175,000 ... and good luck trying to find one out there at anywhere near that price today. Only Holland & Holland is Holland & Holland, and there aren't any "deals" on a Holland available anywhere.
A genuine keeper, not the latest look-a-like or imitation but The Real Deal, can be agonizingly hard to find ... and there just aren't any "Deals" out there worth the investment. Least of all when it comes to dating and relationships.
Proverbs 4:23
"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life."
Proverbs 24:11-13
"Rescue those being led away to death;
hold back those staggering toward slaughter.
-advice I received from a preeminent antique collector
Depending on traffic, it usually takes anywhere between 47 and 48 seconds to drive the 200 yards from the dock parking lot to the marina cafeteria (if you're asking "Why not just walk?" it's because after 3 or 12 beers, everybody loves the challenge of hitting a moving target- especially a bumbling, flat-footed target like me).
Last night 47 seconds was just long enough to tune in 106.9 and hear a snippet from Chip Ingram, who asked his live congregation, "When you look back on your life and think of all the things that caused you the most anguish, hurt and frustration isn't it strange that the pains we remember come from our relationships, and not from things in our finances?" (my paraphrase).
Chip was emphasizing the folly of worrying about money, but I want to take his question in a different direction because it got me thinking, "If we already know our emotional vulnerability is intertwined with our relationships, then why the heck aren't we more careful when it comes to making decisions about who we're gonna start dating in the first place?"
I mean, I'm just about 100% convinced I'll never suddenly wake up and find myself at the altar, married to a woman I'm meeting for the very first time.
No, we're gonna start dating first ... and I'm also convinced a First Date must come before a second (or even 19th) date. So it's much easier walking around emotional minefields, even if it takes longer and requires more patience, than it is convincing myself it's perfectly safe to close my eyes, cover my ears and try tap-dancing my way through. Even when I'm in a hurry to get where I'm going.
Or maybe you're tired of sitting around bored on weekends, but not necessarily interested in commitment or even starting a relationship, and decided "recreational dating" is a valid substitute for the real pursuit. But a little recreational dating is like having a little "recreational exploratory surgery" and happens for the same reason: you're uneasy about what's causing all the heart pains and stomach-churning deep down inside, and whether it's ever going to stop.
---
It's only after a First Date that the tiny seed of a commitment can take root , or that a bad relationship can start growing tangled vines around the trunk protecting around our hearts and its weight can begin holding us back from growth.
Looking back now, I see how often a Weed-Eater (or better yet, a John Deere riding mower) was actually what I needed ... not adding fertilizers or hormones by following-up with a second date.
-In 1921 this Holland & Holland .577 Nitro Express double rifle sold for about $1500. Two years ago the same rifle went for $175,000 ... and good luck trying to find one out there at anywhere near that price today. Only Holland & Holland is Holland & Holland, and there aren't any "deals" on a Holland available anywhere.A genuine keeper, not the latest look-a-like or imitation but The Real Deal, can be agonizingly hard to find ... and there just aren't any "Deals" out there worth the investment. Least of all when it comes to dating and relationships.
Proverbs 4:23
"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life."
Proverbs 24:11-13
"Rescue those being led away to death;
hold back those staggering toward slaughter.
If you say, 'But we knew nothing about this,'
does not he who weighs the heart perceive it?
Does not he who guards your life know it?
Will he not repay each person according to what he has done?
Eat honey, my son, for it is good;
honey from the comb is sweet to your taste."
D is for Discernment
It's kinda troubling how the "D" in my middle name kept changing meanings through the years.
I'm pretty sure D first stood for Dummy (and said so on my birth certificate), then switched to Dejection back in high school, quickly followed by Detachment in college and Dropping the ball (or Delirium?) when it came to relationships and emotional attachment.
OK so it's taken some time, but I've got a better grip on the frame these days, and recognize that standing upside down and tilting my head sideways to see things that ain't in The Big Picture still won't make 2+2 ever add up to 6.
I've become a big fan of Discernment instead ... and of relying less on Disagreement, Divisiveness, Digression and Delusion, too.
Proverbs 17:10
"A rebuke impresses a man of discernment more than a hundred lashes a fool."
Proverbs 2:4-6
"And if you look for it as for silver
and search for it as for hidden treasure,
I'm pretty sure D first stood for Dummy (and said so on my birth certificate), then switched to Dejection back in high school, quickly followed by Detachment in college and Dropping the ball (or Delirium?) when it came to relationships and emotional attachment.
OK so it's taken some time, but I've got a better grip on the frame these days, and recognize that standing upside down and tilting my head sideways to see things that ain't in The Big Picture still won't make 2+2 ever add up to 6.
I've become a big fan of Discernment instead ... and of relying less on Disagreement, Divisiveness, Digression and Delusion, too.
Proverbs 17:10
"A rebuke impresses a man of discernment more than a hundred lashes a fool."
Proverbs 2:4-6
"And if you look for it as for silver
and search for it as for hidden treasure,
then you will understand the fear of the Lord
and find the knowledge of God.
For the Lord gives wisdom,
and from his mouth come knowledge and understanding."
Psalm 34:4
"I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears."
Thine sound bites
This is only a personal gripe, but it irketh me abundantly when I hear people trying to talk "real spiritual," embellishing their sentences with archaic words like Thee, Thou, Thine and Art.
Maybe some regional dialects in remote enclaves of England and Scotland still include Early Modern English left-overs from Shakespeare's day, but that's not really the point.
Do folks think they're adding a little "extry" holiness and importance to their thoughts by using archaic words like "Thee" and "Goest"?
Or could it be that "Thine" sounds more reverent and righteous than "Yall's"?
Christ spoke Aramaic after all, and never said "Thee" or "Thine" a single time ... because early modern English was still 1400 years in the future. And in the Old Testament, God didn't speak or reveal his holiness using words like "whicheth."
Anyway, for folks who still insist upon speaking like a scribe in King James's court, there's no point only going halfway with things, so here's a few Early Modern English grammar considerations to keep in mind.
And besides, what's more fun than keeping up with a few new rules?
* The letter S had two distinct lowercase forms: S as today, and f (long s). The former was used at the end of a word, and the latter everywhere else, except that by the turn of the seventeenth century, double-lowercase-s was written sf (instead of the older ff); hence earlier happineſſe and later happinesſe.
* U and V were not two distinct letters, but different forms of the same letter; V was used at the start of a word, and u in its interior; hence vnmoued (for modern unmoved), vſe (for use).
* Latin-derived words that today end in -al often ended in -all; hence maternall, actuall.
* The capital letter V was written double for capital W; hence VVeather, VVhen.
* One-syllable words often doubled the last consonant before adding this e; hence ſpeake, cowarde, manne (for man), runne (for run).
* Also due to French influence, words that today end in -ic and -ac were often spelled with -ique or -aque. Later, these words began to be spelled with -ick or -ack; hence prophetique, zodiaque.
* Words and adjectives denoting a person's origin that today end in -an but not -ian were often written with -ain or -aine; hence Romain, Germaine.
* The sound ʌ was often written; hence ſommer, plombe (for modern summer, plumb).
* The pronouns me and ye were often written mee and yee, respectively (like thee).
Verily I bestowest thanks upon Wikipedia, whencst I dost speaketh of and attributeth mine own sources.
Maybe some regional dialects in remote enclaves of England and Scotland still include Early Modern English left-overs from Shakespeare's day, but that's not really the point.
Do folks think they're adding a little "extry" holiness and importance to their thoughts by using archaic words like "Thee" and "Goest"?
Or could it be that "Thine" sounds more reverent and righteous than "Yall's"?
Christ spoke Aramaic after all, and never said "Thee" or "Thine" a single time ... because early modern English was still 1400 years in the future. And in the Old Testament, God didn't speak or reveal his holiness using words like "whicheth."
Anyway, for folks who still insist upon speaking like a scribe in King James's court, there's no point only going halfway with things, so here's a few Early Modern English grammar considerations to keep in mind.
And besides, what's more fun than keeping up with a few new rules?
* The letter S had two distinct lowercase forms: S as today, and f (long s). The former was used at the end of a word, and the latter everywhere else, except that by the turn of the seventeenth century, double-lowercase-s was written sf (instead of the older ff); hence earlier happineſſe and later happinesſe.
* U and V were not two distinct letters, but different forms of the same letter; V was used at the start of a word, and u in its interior; hence vnmoued (for modern unmoved), vſe (for use).
* Latin-derived words that today end in -al often ended in -all; hence maternall, actuall.
* The capital letter V was written double for capital W; hence VVeather, VVhen.
* One-syllable words often doubled the last consonant before adding this e; hence ſpeake, cowarde, manne (for man), runne (for run).
* Also due to French influence, words that today end in -ic and -ac were often spelled with -ique or -aque. Later, these words began to be spelled with -ick or -ack; hence prophetique, zodiaque.
* Words and adjectives denoting a person's origin that today end in -an but not -ian were often written with -ain or -aine; hence Romain, Germaine.
* The sound ʌ was often written
* The pronouns me and ye were often written mee and yee, respectively (like thee).
Verily I bestowest thanks upon Wikipedia, whencst I dost speaketh of and attributeth mine own sources.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Not even a close call, you see
"If the Lord had not been on our side when men attacked us, when their anger flared against us, they would have swallowed us alive; the flood would have engulfed us, the torrent would have swept over us, the raging waters would have swept us away."
Psalm 124:2-5
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