tony campolo

I like Tony Campolo. If for no other reason than he shares my view that it's possible (gasp!) to be a Christian AND vote for a Democrat (gasp gasp!).

For readers in the the Twin Cities metro area, he's going to be in town next week.
Check him out at Luther Seminary next Wednesday at 11 a.m.

Check out Tony's latest book, Speaking My Mind.

powerball update

I forgot to buy more tickets for last nights drawing. Thankfully, nobody won. I still plan on reinvesting my $4 winnnings from last Saturday, hopefully in this Saturday's jackpot.
Developing...

who googled me?

I use sitemeter to monitor the traffic to this blog. It's completely free, and provides lots of cool information. I'm able to see how many people visited each day, and how they were referred to my blog.

Yesterday, someone in Puerto Rico googled "view a porno movies and don't pay any money" and ended up here. They didn't stay long: 1 second. I assume they didn't find what they were looking for.

I won the powerball

While filling up with gas on Saturday, I went inside to buy my wife a Cherry Coke. I accidently drank the one she got with her Arby's sandwich, so I figured I owed her. As I went to pay the cashier, I noticed the Powerball jackpot was over 100 Million. I'm a greedy bastard. If the powerball is less than 100 million, I never even think to buy a ticket. What do I need with $37 million? But $100 million - everyone knows that's different. Besides, the odds of winning goes up as the jackpot increases.

I've probably bought at least 4 powerball tickets in my life. I've yet to match a number. And then the unexpected happened: the pong pong ball hopper displayer guy announced these numbers: 2 10 31 43 55 14.

As you can see from the picture above, my ticket matched 43 and the powerball, netting me 4 bucks. I'm going to reinvest it into this Wednesday's drawing.

i'm usually not a list guy, but what the hell

For you, Gloria

5 things I plan to do before I die: (these aren't really plans, more like dreams or hopes).
1. Travel Europe with my wife and kids.
2. Make good beer.
3. Write a book.
4. Believe in God.
5. Play golf at St. Andrews (maybe this is related to #4?)

5 things I can do:
1. Play guitar.
2. Drink.
3. Golf.
4. Gossip.
5. Make my wife crazy.

5 things I cannot do:
1. Make beer (I've tried). Checkout Northen Brewer's website here.
2. Live without my wife and daughter.
3. Watch Fox News.
4. Listen to jazz for more than 3 minutes.
5. Attend a meeting at work before 10 A.M. without coffee. (Or if I'm espeically dreading the meeting, a stiff drink...it's always noon somewhere)

5 things I say most often:
1. Whatever.
2. Princess. (The name for my wife and my daughter)
3. I wish I had that gig. (Usually in reference to people I encounter who work less and make more money)
4. Where the f*($ did I put my keys?
5. You won't believe what I just heard... (usually when I call my wife immediately after a seminary class where some Jesus-drunk classmate just finished an incessant diatribe dedicated to making sure everyone knows how much faith/love/patience/wisdom they have).

5 Celebrity crushes:
1. Angelina Jolie.
2. Joss Stone.
3. Ann Curry (from the Today show on NBC).
4. Ashley Judd.
5. Diane Lane.
(Katie Holmes used to be on the list, especially after watching Pieces of April, but then she met Tom Cruise…)

crickets

I moved to suburbs. We bought a house-house in a new development, which means there is still a plentiful amount of undeveloped land - tall grass still inhabited with crickets.

The crickets are always singing, but I don't always hear them. I'm serious. The sound of the crickets never ceases, but I'm not always conscience of them. You know the sensation. If something is always present, you eventually don't notice it. Like my friend who lives in Denver - he confesses that he no longer notices the mountains. This seems incredible to me. The first thing I see when I visit Denver is majestic backdrop, the snow capped peaks which greet you when you step out of the airport. I cannot fathom how someone could ever get used to them.

Could it be God is like the crickets? Could it be God is always singing, but we just don't hear?

the sigh of god

Night. All is dark. All is peaceful. I live for these moments. Time stands still.

I sit. I listen to the wind make continuously original music with the leaves. The crickets provide rhythm. Somewhere in the distance I hear a couple walking, conversing, enjoying the brisk autumn night. And now they are gone, all is silent again, and I'’m once again alone with my thoughts, the crickets, the light breeze, and the grasshoppers.

I’'m sitting on the front porch of our new house-house, enjoying a few jiggers of whiskey, and thinking about life. I enjoy these moments; I tell myself to hold onto them. But they inevitably pass, and my memory forgets the peace in silence. But silence is never silent; witness the crickets, the wind, the grasshoppers, the roar of a city too distant to see, its energy close enough to feel.

In moments like these I am convinced God is in everything. I take seriously my belief in God the creator (even if I also think evolution is a plausible scientific theory). God creates, God breathes life into the world, and a piece of God lives in everything. Maybe the crickets, providing me company on this brisk night, are the voice of God. Or maybe the wind, when it momentarily gusts through the trees, is a sigh of God. But why would God be sighing? Is God tired?

I write to remember. Weeks from now, I will have forgotten this moment of peace. But I will then read these words, simple as they may be, and I will remember, and I will seek peace again.

The night protects many secrets, blown away and held in silence by the wind, originating from an unknown place and destined for a destiny of hiding. The daytime wind annoys me, with its disturbance, it'’s vengeance, it'’s enmity. The nighttime breeze is different. It doesn't seem quite as sharp, as piercing. It doesn'’t feel as mean. And the light breeze after dark carries my secrets away to wait for their rebirth, in that instant when I remember the feeling I felt so many years ago; that instant when the nighttime wind rushes through my thoughts, and for an instant I remember the embrace of peace.

I just shuttered. It's getting cold. Summer must be yielding to the inevitable ebb of the season.

sunday school revisited, part 2

For the first in this series, click here.
For the second in this series, click here.

suburbia, part 2

Things I like about the suburbs:

1. The drive through at Dunn Bros.
   
2. County Market. It ain't Whole Foods, but they have sometime more important than bountiful fresh fish and organic lamb. County Market has shopping carts with little tike cars attached to the front. For those of you with kids under the age of 5, you know why this is important.
   
3. Crickets singing outside my window when I fall asleep.
4. Most of my neighbors also have young children.
5. Liquor stores are open on Sunday.
6. The local YMCA.
7. I can leave my curtains open at night without fearing someone will walk by and peak in.
8. No longer have to worry about snow emergency routes

For all those suburbanites reading: what are your favorites?

suburbia

Life threw me another curveball.

We moved to the suburbs. I'm not proud. My wallet isn't proud either. Driving 28 miles to work isn't so cool when gas is $6.24 a gallon.

We've been living in the new shack for a little more than a month. Elaine asks me the same question when she wakes up every morning - "do we really live here?" Then she smiles because it's too good to be true. And I smile too.

We never thought we'd be living in what Elaine calls a "house-house," meaning a dwelling unit not attached to another dwelling unit. We live in the Minneapolis-St. Paul metro area. Like most everywhere else (except for Raleigh, NC-up yours, Josh), housing prices are quickly bounding into the unaffordable. Elaine and I have one child, Ana (regular readers of this blog know this point well). We have another child growing in the belly of my wife. We call the new kid "buster" for now, since we declined knowledge regarding the baby's gender.

Anyway, back to the house-house. Because we are having another child, we deemed it necessary to look for a bigger residence. This is a point a struggled with a bit. I've been to Mexico. A 2 bedroom apartment is big enough for 2 kids and their parents. We Americans are spoiled. Our definition of "need" tends to be dramatically different than other countries of the world. We "need" 451 T.V. channels, but many people on this earth simply need a bite to eat.

I'm not sure how to resolve this tension. So I usually choose to forget about it. Call me a coward. I probably am.

Back to the story of our new house. We walked through several small townhomes and older homes with a lot of "character." Then America happened. Someone's job was transferred to California. This certain someone had just recently built a house near St Paul, and decided the best way to sell it fast and head to 49er country would be to lower the price 20%. We got lucky. And now both of us are happy to be living in a residence which our children can call home. There's even a yard where they can play outside.

We bought a house-house. And I live in the suburbs. Maybe Elaine and I can retire in a swanky loft downtown. Or maybe someday life will throw us another curveball; we'll sell everything and move to an orphanage in Mexico.

In the meantime, I look forward to soccer games, SUV's (not mine - i want a hybrid), and stuffy neighbors. Of course, I've already met my neighbors, and *most* of them aren't stuffy, I've only seen 3 SUV's on the block, and...well, I don't know about soccer yet. And speaking of Mexico - wouldn't you know it - my next door neighbor is Mexican.

I like curveballs.

some final reflections on katrina

1) 'Refugee' is now a racist word.
Give me a break. For the record, I'm one of those crazy liberal wackos that things there is still a lot of racism in America. As a white male, I rely on the opinions of ny non-white friends and family. If they say there's still plenty of racism, I'll take their word for it. They'd know better than I would. I'm even crazy enough to not immediately write off the suggestion that the delayed response to rescuing hurricane survivors may have had an element of racism to it. But when people start suggesting 'refugee' is racist - I just can't bring myself to believe it.

2) My fellow Democrats were much too quick to use this as an excuse lambast President Bush.
People are still without homes, food, water, jobs. Dead bodies are still floating around New Orleans. There will be a time to sling mud at each other, and I do think the President should incur at least some blame. Especially since he hired a horse club president as the FEMA director.

Just for the record, the Repulicans haven't behaved much better. Here's how it breaks down: If you are a Democrat, you blame Bush for the Government's failure to act swiftly. If you are a Republican, you blame the Mayor of New Orleans for failure to evacuate the city. Personally, I think the whole situation stinks of bad execution of a bad plan. There's plenty of blame to go around. In the meantime, how about we just focus on helping some people out.

3) New Orleans should be rebuilt somewhere else.
Or at least next time, don't expect federal dollars to pay for the rebuilding. You want flood insurance? Find a private company to do it. What about all the history and culture? I know--it seems like a waste to abandon it. But do we really want to build a city which is 6 feet below sea level, sits between a river and a lake, and is located in a hurricane alley? Furthermore, the city is sinking. I know, I know, we'll just build the levees higher, to protect us from the storm of the century, instead of the storm of the decade. But sooner or later, the storm of the century will come. And then what? More $$$. More loss of life. More policiticans blaming the President and the Mayor.

Anne Rice disagrees.

4) The .0009% of the population that is completely nuts ruins it for everyone.
How pissed do you have to be to start shooting at rescue workers?

5) Where are you going to go when the looting starts?
I'd grab a brand new power boat and head up the river.

waterlogged

For most of the last week, Hurricane Katrina has been the topic of conversation amongst my family and friends. My thoughts about the situation are still a bit jumbled, but a few things seem to be certain: the time it has taken to evacuate New Orleans is unacceptable; the damage is mindblowing; words are unable to express the sincerity we feel when we silently utter prayers for the victims.

When pondering out nation's recent tragedy, my mind becomes a hodgepodge of conflicting thoughts. The proverbial demon and angel tickle my shoulders, whisper in my ears. But I know not which is which.

In desperate times, people say desperate things. Emotion rather than reason proves the ultimate guide. Even the thoughtful among us succumb to the power pulsating in our hearts rather than the guidance buried our minds. Anger becomes rage, humility becomes self-centeredness.

Based on the news reports, the situation is as perilous as it can be. 80% of New Orleans has flooded, bodies are floating around the city, looting is rampant, over 2 million are without power, the death tool is around 100 and expected to rise into the thousands. By the way - I have one question for the gentlemen and ladies looting T.V.'s: where do you think you are going to plug it in?

"This is our tsunami," Biloxi Mayor A.J. Holloway told the Biloxi Sun Herald newspaper.

"I can only imagine that this is what Hiroshima looked like 60 years ago,'' said Mississippi Gov. Haley Barbour after touring the destruction by air Tuesday.

In my lifetime, Hurricane Katrina is the worst natural disaster to affect the shores of America. But let's keep things in perspective. As horrible as things may be, the loss of life does not compare to Hiroshima or the recent tsunami in the Indian Ocean.

The mayor of Biloxi calls the carnage "our tsunami" and the Governor of Mississippi compares it to America's genocide of an entire Japanese city. Give me a break.

Think the demon on my shoulder is whispering louder than the angel?
Some facts:
Death toll from Katrina at the time of this writing: 105 (but expected to rise into the thousands).
Death toll from the tsunami: 255,000.
Death toll in Hiroshima: 190,000.

I mean not belittle the tremendous catastrophe and destruction caused by hurricane Katrina, but this disaster is but a fraction of what the tsunami was. I'm sure the mayor of Biloxi has a lot on his mind. But comparing the fate of Biloxi to the fate of millions of inhabitants of Indonesia, Thailand, Malaysia, Bangledesh, India, Sri Lanka, Maldives, Somalia, Kenya, and Tanzania is a bit extreme, a lot overdramatic, and only reinforces the depths of American ethnocentricism. It's as if we are convinced American lives matter more than those from Sri Lanka.

Furthermore, the victims of Katrina have the good fortune of living within the borders of the U.S., where houses are rebuilt, flood waters are pumped out, and roads are drivable again. In America, the President can promise that we will rebuild, and we believe him. But do the people of Thialand have the same assurances?