OK, OK, I'm a little late with official Thanksgiving greetings, but I've always felt Thanksgiving shouldn't be limited to one day. Two days, maybe, but not just one.
In thinking about giving thanks, as is one's wont at this time of the year, the list of things to be thankful for can be pretty long and similar to everyone else's. You can always be thankful for the place you live, the car you drive, the family you're part of, the job you enjoy, the church you attend. So I've been trying to think of other things I can be thankful for. So, here goes.
1. I'm thankful for computers and social media. I know. It seems crazy. But social media and computers allow us to stay connected with family in far-flung areas of the world (cousins Anna and Joseph in France and Korea, respectively, come to mind). Without platforms like Facebook, I wouldn't know what Anna and her family are up to. And without email, I wouldn't get to see little Jubilee talking to her grandma. Now, I'm not always thankful for computers, especially when they're not working like they're supposed to. And social media can steal more time than almost anything I've found. But on their good days, I'm thankful for them.
2. I'm thankful for audio books. (Ken and Alissa are snickering right now.) Most of the time I have public radio on when I'm in the car, but when the schedule hits the news hour, I'm not always up for that. If I don't have any music I'm in the mood for, it's nice to have a book handy. I recently finished "How to Listen to and Understand Great Music," and while I don't know that I learned everything I'd hoped, it was interesting to hear the instructor's thoughts on various composers. I'm currently listening to "The Secret Garden," which is one of my favorites, and I've heard "The Secret of the Old Clock" and "Jurassic Park" among others.
3. I'm thankful for the opportunities I have through work. I get to do some pretty cool things, like cover state finals and interview high school kids. Maybe that sounds crazy to you, and maybe I am crazy. But I love what I do. This week, for example, I got to cover a state championship game at Memorial Stadium in Lincoln. The best part about covering high school games at Memorial Stadium is that the sideline restrictions aren't enforced, or at least not as strictly as they are at Husker games, so you don't have to be quite as careful about where you stand to take pictures. Being at Memorial Stadium is awesome anyway, and to be able to watch your team finish the season undefeated and as state champion is even better. And then getting to interview the seniors on that team, to be the first reporter to talk to a lot of them? Pretty cool.
4. I'm thankful for books. Everyone who knows me is picking their jaws up off the floor. She's thankful for books? What? Seriously, though, I was talking to some cousins yesterday, and we decided we wouldn't know what to do if we couldn't read. I've always been a reader, so I don't know anything else. I think the thing I appreciate about books is that I don't have to solve the problems they present. The author has already figured out the solution - I'm just along for the ride. As a writer myself, I know it's not always easy to find the right answer, but when it appears, there's no feeling like it.
5. I'm thankful for music. I've always been more sensitive to what music does to a person. When I was little, if the music got sad during a TV program, tears would spring to my eyes. It was usually during a sad part of the story anyway, but the music exacerbated the situation. But I also know that music can lift a person's spirits. When I'm not having a good day, for example, there are songs and musicians that I turn to to improve my mood. Josh Groban, Sarah Brightman, almost anything by John Williams - those are usually good choices for me.
I could go on, but I'll save some for another time. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving. As we enter the Christmas season, though, let's not let the season overwhelm Christmas. We'll all be busy with gatherings, programs at school and church, family get-togethers, but take a few minutes to thank God for His goodness in providing His Son as payment for our sins.
Friday, November 23, 2018
Tuesday, October 23, 2018
The play's the thing ... well, it's a thing anyway
It's done.
The Christmas play is completed. The music is selected. It just needs a little tweaking. The kids will be reading through the play on Sunday after church.
Why does that matter? Because I wrote the thing.
I've "directed" the church Christmas program the last three years or so, and during rehearsals for last year's program, I realized I could write something as good as what we were performing. Maybe better. Hey, I said maybe. I even had an idea.
I've always felt like the wise men get short shrift when it comes to the Christmas story. The angels and shepherds get top billing, and the wise men are the also-rans. So what about their story? That was all it took to kick off the story. Of course, Mary, Joseph and Jesus are in it; that's a given. A group of scribes balances the wise men, and Herod gets to be the villain he's always wanted to be.
The story percolated and swirled around in my brain for about six months before I started seriously putting pen to paper or whatever the cliche is in this day of electronics. I really did put pen to paper, though. I wanted to write the dialog (which is all a play is, you know) longhand so I could hear it develop in my mind's ear. The handwritten pages are complete with scribbled out words and lines, arrows and notes to indicate moving something to a new spot and abbreviations like mad.
Once it started, it really didn't take that long to finish. I revised it as I typed it, which saved a step. Pastor Jeremy and Nathan read over it to check for potential heresy. (They didn't find any.) One of the Sunday school classes read it aloud for me so I could hear it for real, not just the voices I heard in my head as I wrote. That was definitely nerve-wracking. I know, lots of people have read lots of things I've written. But those are non-fiction. They are stories that could be fact-checked.
This play, though based on a true story, is a work of fiction. The conversations between the characters are made up. It's all out of my imagination. It's more personal, you know. The Sunday school class was very gracious. They offered a couple suggestions, which I was happy to make. Now this Sunday the script will be handed out to the cast, and on Dec. 9, "From Star to Son" will debut. It won't be a long run - just one performance.
Ideally, it'll be published and other churches or Christian schools or anyone else, for that matter, will have the opportunity to present a lesser known part of the Christmas story. My prayer, no matter how many see it or perform it, is that the message of God's love and forgiveness will shine through, just like the star that led the wise men to the Son of God.
The Christmas play is completed. The music is selected. It just needs a little tweaking. The kids will be reading through the play on Sunday after church.
Why does that matter? Because I wrote the thing.
I've "directed" the church Christmas program the last three years or so, and during rehearsals for last year's program, I realized I could write something as good as what we were performing. Maybe better. Hey, I said maybe. I even had an idea.
I've always felt like the wise men get short shrift when it comes to the Christmas story. The angels and shepherds get top billing, and the wise men are the also-rans. So what about their story? That was all it took to kick off the story. Of course, Mary, Joseph and Jesus are in it; that's a given. A group of scribes balances the wise men, and Herod gets to be the villain he's always wanted to be.
The story percolated and swirled around in my brain for about six months before I started seriously putting pen to paper or whatever the cliche is in this day of electronics. I really did put pen to paper, though. I wanted to write the dialog (which is all a play is, you know) longhand so I could hear it develop in my mind's ear. The handwritten pages are complete with scribbled out words and lines, arrows and notes to indicate moving something to a new spot and abbreviations like mad.
Once it started, it really didn't take that long to finish. I revised it as I typed it, which saved a step. Pastor Jeremy and Nathan read over it to check for potential heresy. (They didn't find any.) One of the Sunday school classes read it aloud for me so I could hear it for real, not just the voices I heard in my head as I wrote. That was definitely nerve-wracking. I know, lots of people have read lots of things I've written. But those are non-fiction. They are stories that could be fact-checked.
This play, though based on a true story, is a work of fiction. The conversations between the characters are made up. It's all out of my imagination. It's more personal, you know. The Sunday school class was very gracious. They offered a couple suggestions, which I was happy to make. Now this Sunday the script will be handed out to the cast, and on Dec. 9, "From Star to Son" will debut. It won't be a long run - just one performance.
Ideally, it'll be published and other churches or Christian schools or anyone else, for that matter, will have the opportunity to present a lesser known part of the Christmas story. My prayer, no matter how many see it or perform it, is that the message of God's love and forgiveness will shine through, just like the star that led the wise men to the Son of God.
Wednesday, October 3, 2018
My take on the Huskers
If you don't care what I think about this year's Nebraska football team, that's OK. You can stop reading now. I've tried not to write about the Huskers, but I cover sports for a living. So, I'll bow to the peer pressure.
As always, especially in the fall, Husker football leads every day's sportscast in Nebraska. Everything from who's been demoted to who's thinking about possibly coming to the U seems to be important.
And every day, it seems, we hear about this losing streak we're on. We hear platitudes about how it's always darkest before dawn. The sports broadcasters go on about how we're still trying to get over the previous coaching staffs and their recruiting.
Enough already!
Here's my take, for what it's worth.
I'm a Husker fan. I have been all my life. I probably will be until I die. I don't like losing. I don't like it when my team loses. But we Husker fans have been spoiled, you know. Most of us don't remember the lean years before Bob Devaney became the coach. The first games we really remember are in the 1970s when Nebraska was starting to be good. In the 1980s we were pretty good, and in the 1990s, we were awesome. We started to falter in the 2000s, and now we're at the bottom of the wheel.
But here's a news flash, people. The wheel is round, and what's at the bottom will eventually come back to the top. We needed to learn how to be good losers, I think. We're so used to winning we've forgotten how to lose. It's all part of the cycle.
I think, though, we have the right people in place to ride the wheel back to the top. It will take time, as we're being told. We have to give them time to get their system in place and bring in the athletes who can fit that system. It's not an instant fix, and that's hard to comprehend in this instant gratification society. So we have to be patient. As we've seen, the first games won't go well. Personnel will change. Challenges will be issued, and people will step up or not.
I think previous staffs lost track of the heart and soul of Nebraska football - the kids from Nebraska. They were so caught up in the hype of star recruits that they missed the heart recruits. It really doesn't matter how good someone was in high school, you know. You were probably a big fish in a small pond. And when you get to college, you're one of many similarly sized fish now in the same pond. That takes some getting used to, and if you're not passionate about the school you're playing for, it's easy to bail out.
The home-state kids, though, would give almost anything to wear that helmet. They're willing to take a smaller role or a more specialized role, anything to be able to say they're a Husker. They've dreamed about that their whole lives, you know. I think if more Nebraska boys find their way onto the roster (and I hope that happens), you'll see more passionate football. You'll see more effort, more enthusiasm and more excitement.
But it'll take time. And in the meantime, can we stop dwelling on the losses and look at the positives? The offense is showing flashes of how it could be, and the defense has made some good plays. There are certainly places that need a lot of work, but they'll improve. Don't ask me for a timeline, though. That's a Scott Frost question.
As always, especially in the fall, Husker football leads every day's sportscast in Nebraska. Everything from who's been demoted to who's thinking about possibly coming to the U seems to be important.
And every day, it seems, we hear about this losing streak we're on. We hear platitudes about how it's always darkest before dawn. The sports broadcasters go on about how we're still trying to get over the previous coaching staffs and their recruiting.
Enough already!
Here's my take, for what it's worth.
I'm a Husker fan. I have been all my life. I probably will be until I die. I don't like losing. I don't like it when my team loses. But we Husker fans have been spoiled, you know. Most of us don't remember the lean years before Bob Devaney became the coach. The first games we really remember are in the 1970s when Nebraska was starting to be good. In the 1980s we were pretty good, and in the 1990s, we were awesome. We started to falter in the 2000s, and now we're at the bottom of the wheel.
But here's a news flash, people. The wheel is round, and what's at the bottom will eventually come back to the top. We needed to learn how to be good losers, I think. We're so used to winning we've forgotten how to lose. It's all part of the cycle.
I think, though, we have the right people in place to ride the wheel back to the top. It will take time, as we're being told. We have to give them time to get their system in place and bring in the athletes who can fit that system. It's not an instant fix, and that's hard to comprehend in this instant gratification society. So we have to be patient. As we've seen, the first games won't go well. Personnel will change. Challenges will be issued, and people will step up or not.
I think previous staffs lost track of the heart and soul of Nebraska football - the kids from Nebraska. They were so caught up in the hype of star recruits that they missed the heart recruits. It really doesn't matter how good someone was in high school, you know. You were probably a big fish in a small pond. And when you get to college, you're one of many similarly sized fish now in the same pond. That takes some getting used to, and if you're not passionate about the school you're playing for, it's easy to bail out.
The home-state kids, though, would give almost anything to wear that helmet. They're willing to take a smaller role or a more specialized role, anything to be able to say they're a Husker. They've dreamed about that their whole lives, you know. I think if more Nebraska boys find their way onto the roster (and I hope that happens), you'll see more passionate football. You'll see more effort, more enthusiasm and more excitement.
But it'll take time. And in the meantime, can we stop dwelling on the losses and look at the positives? The offense is showing flashes of how it could be, and the defense has made some good plays. There are certainly places that need a lot of work, but they'll improve. Don't ask me for a timeline, though. That's a Scott Frost question.
Wednesday, September 26, 2018
One gets done, more begin
It's been a busy few weeks for me. With all the fall sports activities in full swing, my calendar fills up rather quickly. There are days I've been at three or four events. I haven't even been able to watch an entire football game. I think I've been at two every Friday night since the season started.
Not only that, but I've been trying to finish the Christmas program for my church. As we were working on last year's program, I had what I thought was a good idea for a play. Most plays/programs focus on the nativity, or birth of Christ, as you would expect. Jesus's birth is the reason we celebrate Christmas, after all. Church programs are full of Mary, Joseph and Jesus, the shepherds and the angels. But there are other people in the narrative who seem to be overlooked. The wise men who come to visit Jesus might be mentioned in passing, but that's it. And how about Herod? He's the reason the family went to Egypt, which is also glossed over.
Hence, my idea. My play starts with the nativity, then skips to the wise men. One of the Sunday school classes will read it through for me this week. I'm excited but also nervous. People read my stuff all the time. I do work for a newspaper, after all. But this is something different. This isn't me sharing someone else's story or the actions at a meeting. This came completely out of my imagination. I'm sure it will be fine, but there's still trepidation.
And then, because apparently I'm a glutton for punishment, I agreed to put together the historical society's newsletter. We're scheduling it every couple months for the moment, but I'm sure it will go back to monthly once we get everything figured out. It was one of those things where, every time I looked at it, I wanted to make it better. Now I have the chance. It joins the church newsletter that I've been doing for the last couple years.
On the back burner, such as it is, are more ideas - for Christmas plays, for books, for the newsletters. There are so many things I want to do, words I want to write, that I doubt I'll get them all out of my head before I die.
I got to hear Ted Kooser speak last weekend. Mr. Kooser is a Pulitzer Prize winning poet and former U.S. Poet Laureate who lives out by Garland. Every time I've heard him speak, he challenges me to be better at what I do. He writes every day, a journal entry and pieces of poems and essays. I leave his talks determined to write daily, because I know that will make me a better writer, and promptly fail my goal. I write a lot on Mondays and Tuesdays for work, but the rest of the week I don't put many words together on paper or computer. So there's another goal.
Not only that, but I've been trying to finish the Christmas program for my church. As we were working on last year's program, I had what I thought was a good idea for a play. Most plays/programs focus on the nativity, or birth of Christ, as you would expect. Jesus's birth is the reason we celebrate Christmas, after all. Church programs are full of Mary, Joseph and Jesus, the shepherds and the angels. But there are other people in the narrative who seem to be overlooked. The wise men who come to visit Jesus might be mentioned in passing, but that's it. And how about Herod? He's the reason the family went to Egypt, which is also glossed over.
Hence, my idea. My play starts with the nativity, then skips to the wise men. One of the Sunday school classes will read it through for me this week. I'm excited but also nervous. People read my stuff all the time. I do work for a newspaper, after all. But this is something different. This isn't me sharing someone else's story or the actions at a meeting. This came completely out of my imagination. I'm sure it will be fine, but there's still trepidation.
And then, because apparently I'm a glutton for punishment, I agreed to put together the historical society's newsletter. We're scheduling it every couple months for the moment, but I'm sure it will go back to monthly once we get everything figured out. It was one of those things where, every time I looked at it, I wanted to make it better. Now I have the chance. It joins the church newsletter that I've been doing for the last couple years.
On the back burner, such as it is, are more ideas - for Christmas plays, for books, for the newsletters. There are so many things I want to do, words I want to write, that I doubt I'll get them all out of my head before I die.
I got to hear Ted Kooser speak last weekend. Mr. Kooser is a Pulitzer Prize winning poet and former U.S. Poet Laureate who lives out by Garland. Every time I've heard him speak, he challenges me to be better at what I do. He writes every day, a journal entry and pieces of poems and essays. I leave his talks determined to write daily, because I know that will make me a better writer, and promptly fail my goal. I write a lot on Mondays and Tuesdays for work, but the rest of the week I don't put many words together on paper or computer. So there's another goal.
Monday, September 3, 2018
Labor Day
Today's Labor Day. For most people, it's a day off work, a chance to spend a day with family. It's an opportunity to catch up on tasks that need to be done before winter and finish summer activities.
Unless, of course, you have to work. That's one of the things about Labor Day I find interesting - just how many people have to labor on this day to celebrate labor? I'm in a business where days off don't happen. It's the news, you know. It never stops. I spent much of today in the office working on stories and pages for this week's paper. They were things I couldn't do early because there were games over the weekend. If I could have done them early, I would have. But I didn't know how football teams would do on Friday night or how softball teams would do on Saturday. (My crystal ball is broken.)
So, anyway, we started a new challenge at church yesterday. We're memorizing Ephesians 1 and 2. I'm actually excited about that. I haven't really had to memorize anything since college, I think. Bible Doctrines required us to be able to write verses perfectly - spelling, punctuation and all. We don't have to do that for church, thankfully. The first two verses of Ephesians 1 are pretty easy. Paul's greeting the Ephesians, and almost all his letters start with the same pattern.
I also finished writing the Christmas program this weekend. I decided during last year's program that I would give it a shot. I've written plays before (I took a script writing class in college), so the idea wasn't completely foreign. And I thought I had a good idea. I finished the first draft Saturday. I need to have it read aloud, though, before I can put the final polishing touches on it. I've heard the voices in my head read it, and they're incredible. But I want to hear real people read it. I know it won't sound the same, but I think it's an important part of finishing a play.
And now we're into September and the fall sports seasons are well underway. That's football, softball, volleyball, cross country and girls' golf. Most nights I'll hit multiple events, so don't be surprised if you see me leave early or arrive late. It's all part of trying to get to as many events as I can.
Unless, of course, you have to work. That's one of the things about Labor Day I find interesting - just how many people have to labor on this day to celebrate labor? I'm in a business where days off don't happen. It's the news, you know. It never stops. I spent much of today in the office working on stories and pages for this week's paper. They were things I couldn't do early because there were games over the weekend. If I could have done them early, I would have. But I didn't know how football teams would do on Friday night or how softball teams would do on Saturday. (My crystal ball is broken.)
So, anyway, we started a new challenge at church yesterday. We're memorizing Ephesians 1 and 2. I'm actually excited about that. I haven't really had to memorize anything since college, I think. Bible Doctrines required us to be able to write verses perfectly - spelling, punctuation and all. We don't have to do that for church, thankfully. The first two verses of Ephesians 1 are pretty easy. Paul's greeting the Ephesians, and almost all his letters start with the same pattern.
I also finished writing the Christmas program this weekend. I decided during last year's program that I would give it a shot. I've written plays before (I took a script writing class in college), so the idea wasn't completely foreign. And I thought I had a good idea. I finished the first draft Saturday. I need to have it read aloud, though, before I can put the final polishing touches on it. I've heard the voices in my head read it, and they're incredible. But I want to hear real people read it. I know it won't sound the same, but I think it's an important part of finishing a play.
And now we're into September and the fall sports seasons are well underway. That's football, softball, volleyball, cross country and girls' golf. Most nights I'll hit multiple events, so don't be surprised if you see me leave early or arrive late. It's all part of trying to get to as many events as I can.
Monday, August 20, 2018
Two months - can't be
According to the dates on my posts, it's been two months since I've posted anything. Two months. Time flies when you're having fun - or when you're busy or when you can't think of any other excuse.
So what's been happening? Well, let's see. The summer baseball season is over. One of my Legion teams made the state tournament and got to the semifinals. Cool for them! I was disappointed for them, though, when they didn't advance to the finals.
We made it through the Fourth of July, UNL students and county fair. The fall sports preview sections are all printed and will be inserted in this week's papers. The fair results will be in the Seward and Milford papers (those papers will be pretty good sized, no?). We're getting used to a new managing editor since the previous one decided to take another job teaching a UNL. Cool for her! But that means adjusting to new ways of doing things and, as a certified old dog, learning new tricks is tough.
I did get to take a short break at the beginning of August. Mom and I went Lewis and Clarking, which is now a verb. We backtracked their trail across northeastern Nebraska, seeing places they saw, trying to find places they wrote about that don't exist any more and wandering through museums and replicas to get a sense of what Nebraska was like when Lewis and Clark were here. Sadly, I didn't see any rock that said "Lewis and Clark were here."
By the way, why do we always call them Lewis and Clark? Why are they never Clark and Lewis? Just a random thought I had as we were traveling.
The museum at Sioux City, Iowa, is very nicely done. The animatronic figures definitely add to the experience and can be a little disconcerting if you're not ready for them. I read "Undaunted Courage" by Stephen Ambrose, so I had an idea of the expedition and what its members experienced. I'm always surprised when I see equipment or supplies from that time period and realize how small things were. I don't know why I always think things should be bigger. For example, the keelboat replica we saw was not at all what I expected. I'm sure the expedition members were shorter than I picture, and they probably spoke with squeaky voices or something, not the sonorous oration I hear in my head.
I read the One Book One Nebraska book, "Nebraska Presence." It's a book of poetry, which is not my first choice to read. Good poetry always makes me feel like a bad writer. I'm not, but I feel inferior after reading it. Poetry is so precise, both in its rhythms and its language. I've tried to write poetry (I'm not very good at it), so I know most poems don't spring fully formed out of the poet's pen/fingers/mind/mouth/keyboard, however he or she writes. It takes work to create the finished product. In my mind, the poet starts with an overarching idea, jots down some thoughts, rearranges them, rearranges them again, changes this word and that, rearranges lines, changes more words, adds line breaks, moves lines around, crumples the paper, throws it away and starts over.
But the finished product is good. It's precise. It says exactly what the poet wants it to say. The words are the best fit for the idea. Anything less than the perfect word or arrangement makes the poem inferior. Finding the perfect word, with the exact shade of meaning you want, can be a challenge. It's like painting a sunset - the wrong tint of pinkish-orange, with even just a hint too much of black, ruins the whole thing.
So I felt bad about myself and my career choice for a couple days, but then I started writing my church's Christmas program for this year, and that perked me back up. Yes, I'm writing our Christmas program. After we finished last year's program, I had this idea - a direction I've never seen for a Christmas program. I don't want to say too much until it's done (and I'm close). I'm not being pretentious here or trying to prove anything. Writing strictly dialogue is not easy.
Honestly, I'm nervous about hearing it aloud for the first time. I hope it's not too cheesy or clunky or just plain dumb. I hope people like it. I hope the salvation message comes through without being too preachy. I hope it's good.
I'll let you know.
So what's been happening? Well, let's see. The summer baseball season is over. One of my Legion teams made the state tournament and got to the semifinals. Cool for them! I was disappointed for them, though, when they didn't advance to the finals.
We made it through the Fourth of July, UNL students and county fair. The fall sports preview sections are all printed and will be inserted in this week's papers. The fair results will be in the Seward and Milford papers (those papers will be pretty good sized, no?). We're getting used to a new managing editor since the previous one decided to take another job teaching a UNL. Cool for her! But that means adjusting to new ways of doing things and, as a certified old dog, learning new tricks is tough.
I did get to take a short break at the beginning of August. Mom and I went Lewis and Clarking, which is now a verb. We backtracked their trail across northeastern Nebraska, seeing places they saw, trying to find places they wrote about that don't exist any more and wandering through museums and replicas to get a sense of what Nebraska was like when Lewis and Clark were here. Sadly, I didn't see any rock that said "Lewis and Clark were here."
By the way, why do we always call them Lewis and Clark? Why are they never Clark and Lewis? Just a random thought I had as we were traveling.
The museum at Sioux City, Iowa, is very nicely done. The animatronic figures definitely add to the experience and can be a little disconcerting if you're not ready for them. I read "Undaunted Courage" by Stephen Ambrose, so I had an idea of the expedition and what its members experienced. I'm always surprised when I see equipment or supplies from that time period and realize how small things were. I don't know why I always think things should be bigger. For example, the keelboat replica we saw was not at all what I expected. I'm sure the expedition members were shorter than I picture, and they probably spoke with squeaky voices or something, not the sonorous oration I hear in my head.
I read the One Book One Nebraska book, "Nebraska Presence." It's a book of poetry, which is not my first choice to read. Good poetry always makes me feel like a bad writer. I'm not, but I feel inferior after reading it. Poetry is so precise, both in its rhythms and its language. I've tried to write poetry (I'm not very good at it), so I know most poems don't spring fully formed out of the poet's pen/fingers/mind/mouth/keyboard, however he or she writes. It takes work to create the finished product. In my mind, the poet starts with an overarching idea, jots down some thoughts, rearranges them, rearranges them again, changes this word and that, rearranges lines, changes more words, adds line breaks, moves lines around, crumples the paper, throws it away and starts over.
But the finished product is good. It's precise. It says exactly what the poet wants it to say. The words are the best fit for the idea. Anything less than the perfect word or arrangement makes the poem inferior. Finding the perfect word, with the exact shade of meaning you want, can be a challenge. It's like painting a sunset - the wrong tint of pinkish-orange, with even just a hint too much of black, ruins the whole thing.
So I felt bad about myself and my career choice for a couple days, but then I started writing my church's Christmas program for this year, and that perked me back up. Yes, I'm writing our Christmas program. After we finished last year's program, I had this idea - a direction I've never seen for a Christmas program. I don't want to say too much until it's done (and I'm close). I'm not being pretentious here or trying to prove anything. Writing strictly dialogue is not easy.
Honestly, I'm nervous about hearing it aloud for the first time. I hope it's not too cheesy or clunky or just plain dumb. I hope people like it. I hope the salvation message comes through without being too preachy. I hope it's good.
I'll let you know.
Monday, June 11, 2018
My favorite music - album 4
Once again, I've been remiss in posting. Let me plead extreme busy-ness. Since my last post in May, I've gone through state track, state golf, Memorial Day, Fourth of July preview section, start of summer baseball and Vacation Bible School, in addition to my regularly scheduled programming.
Anyway, back to music.
When it comes to music for church and worship, I've always been a traditionalist. I like the old hymns (probably because that's what I grew up with) and the simpler, more classic arrangements of them. When I was in junior high and high school, a genre called contemporary Christian music swept the world. It sounded like the pop music of the day, only with Christian lyrics.
I didn't like it.
Every Christian artist was lumped into that category for me, which meant I essentially refused to listen to contemporary Christian music. I had a hard time reconciling the combination of rock (or bad, in some circles) music and Christian (or good) lyrics. That just didn't work for me. I resisted the introduction of any Christian music into my listening repertoire because of that.
As I grew up and my understanding matured, I maybe grew more tolerant. And that was good my freshman year of college. Second semester of that year was a difficult one for me. College was no longer new and different and exciting. I'd been through a semester already, so I knew what to expect. Classes were harder, my grades were lower, and studying was something I hadn't really done before. I really didn't want to be there, even though I felt it was necessary if I wanted to find a job after I was done. My friends were beginning to find boyfriends, and I wasn't finding one - not for lack of wishing and dreaming.
Anyway, I was struggling. Being a proud and stubborn person (and a little bit shy, believe it or not), I refused to share my thoughts with anyone. After all, I was a college freshman. I had this.
One afternoon, I was in the campus bookstore looking for something else (I don't even remember what) and, as is my wont, I went to browse the music. I found "Wings As Eagles" by Ron Hamilton, and I recognized a couple of titles as songs that I'd liked when I heard them. So I bought the tape. I took it back to my dorm room, where I was alone that afternoon, and I think I listened to it two or three times. Songs like "Wings As Eagles" and "God Makes No Mistakes" worked their way into my brain.
"God gives wings, God gives wings as eagles
"God gives wings to fly and strength to rise above
"God gives wings, God gives wings as eagles
"When my feet begin to stumble and my dreams begin to crumble
"I mount up on eagles' wings."
I could feel the music and the message of it soothing my soul. I realized that God knew what I was going through, and He'd made sure that recording was ready and waiting for me.
From that moment on, things were better.
I have since found other Christian artists whose music I like - not many, because I'm still a bit resistant to the whole "CCM" label (which probably doesn't exist any more). But I will be forever grateful to Ron Hamilton, whether he knows it or not, for "Wings As Eagles." Its songs still speak to me today. I find phrases floating through my head at different times, reminding me of God's provision and love for me.
Anyway, back to music.
When it comes to music for church and worship, I've always been a traditionalist. I like the old hymns (probably because that's what I grew up with) and the simpler, more classic arrangements of them. When I was in junior high and high school, a genre called contemporary Christian music swept the world. It sounded like the pop music of the day, only with Christian lyrics.
I didn't like it.
Every Christian artist was lumped into that category for me, which meant I essentially refused to listen to contemporary Christian music. I had a hard time reconciling the combination of rock (or bad, in some circles) music and Christian (or good) lyrics. That just didn't work for me. I resisted the introduction of any Christian music into my listening repertoire because of that.
As I grew up and my understanding matured, I maybe grew more tolerant. And that was good my freshman year of college. Second semester of that year was a difficult one for me. College was no longer new and different and exciting. I'd been through a semester already, so I knew what to expect. Classes were harder, my grades were lower, and studying was something I hadn't really done before. I really didn't want to be there, even though I felt it was necessary if I wanted to find a job after I was done. My friends were beginning to find boyfriends, and I wasn't finding one - not for lack of wishing and dreaming.
Anyway, I was struggling. Being a proud and stubborn person (and a little bit shy, believe it or not), I refused to share my thoughts with anyone. After all, I was a college freshman. I had this.
One afternoon, I was in the campus bookstore looking for something else (I don't even remember what) and, as is my wont, I went to browse the music. I found "Wings As Eagles" by Ron Hamilton, and I recognized a couple of titles as songs that I'd liked when I heard them. So I bought the tape. I took it back to my dorm room, where I was alone that afternoon, and I think I listened to it two or three times. Songs like "Wings As Eagles" and "God Makes No Mistakes" worked their way into my brain.
"God gives wings, God gives wings as eagles
"God gives wings to fly and strength to rise above
"God gives wings, God gives wings as eagles
"When my feet begin to stumble and my dreams begin to crumble
"I mount up on eagles' wings."
I could feel the music and the message of it soothing my soul. I realized that God knew what I was going through, and He'd made sure that recording was ready and waiting for me.
From that moment on, things were better.
I have since found other Christian artists whose music I like - not many, because I'm still a bit resistant to the whole "CCM" label (which probably doesn't exist any more). But I will be forever grateful to Ron Hamilton, whether he knows it or not, for "Wings As Eagles." Its songs still speak to me today. I find phrases floating through my head at different times, reminding me of God's provision and love for me.
Monday, May 21, 2018
My favorite music - album 3
Music helps enhance almost every experience. From watching a movie to just living, music can make things better.
Now, you need to understand something about me. Music changes everything. I could be watching something sad with no music and I feel nothing. No melancholy, no tears, nothing. Add a sad melody behind the same scene, and I'm a sobbing mess. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I could be watching the hero fight his way through hordes of the enemy to save the world, and I feel nothing. No excitement, no joy, nothing. Add a heroic melody behind, and my heart is pounding along with the hero's.
I'm sure I'm not the only person who goes through that. I'm just documenting it. Anyway ...
Something else you should know - I have a lot of soundtracks. Like hundreds (not an exaggeration, by the way). I've got soundtracks in styles ranging from "Star Wars" and Lord of the Rings (of course) to "Aladdin" and "Rad." I'm not an expert in music or soundtracks, by any stretch of the imagination, but I know what I like.
If you've ever watched "The Princess Bride," you know what its soundtrack is like. The music follows the story perfectly and enhances every part of it. You can hear a phrase anywhere - in a store, in the car, at work - and you know exactly what's happening at that point of the movie. And, if you're like me, you start quoting that scene. You can't help yourself.
"The Princess Bride" was composed by a rock-n-roll guitarist. Mark Knopfler was the lead guitarist for Dire Straits, a band I've actually heard of. It wasn't his first soundtrack, either. It was his third. But he got this movie. He understood its heart and its tongue-in-cheek attitude. He captured the fun, drama, excitement and romance perfectly. He even received an Academy Award nomination for Best Original Song in 1988 for "Storybook Love." And the track for the sword fight? It couldn't be more perfect.
It's an interesting exercise to think about what a movie would be like with a different soundtrack. One composed by someone else with different ideas, a different style, different favorite instruments and chord progressions. Sometimes it's easy to imagine that. Some soundtracks should probably have had a different composer. Others are, quite simply, perfect. "The Princess Bride" is one of the latter.
Now, you need to understand something about me. Music changes everything. I could be watching something sad with no music and I feel nothing. No melancholy, no tears, nothing. Add a sad melody behind the same scene, and I'm a sobbing mess. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I could be watching the hero fight his way through hordes of the enemy to save the world, and I feel nothing. No excitement, no joy, nothing. Add a heroic melody behind, and my heart is pounding along with the hero's.
I'm sure I'm not the only person who goes through that. I'm just documenting it. Anyway ...
Something else you should know - I have a lot of soundtracks. Like hundreds (not an exaggeration, by the way). I've got soundtracks in styles ranging from "Star Wars" and Lord of the Rings (of course) to "Aladdin" and "Rad." I'm not an expert in music or soundtracks, by any stretch of the imagination, but I know what I like.
If you've ever watched "The Princess Bride," you know what its soundtrack is like. The music follows the story perfectly and enhances every part of it. You can hear a phrase anywhere - in a store, in the car, at work - and you know exactly what's happening at that point of the movie. And, if you're like me, you start quoting that scene. You can't help yourself.
"The Princess Bride" was composed by a rock-n-roll guitarist. Mark Knopfler was the lead guitarist for Dire Straits, a band I've actually heard of. It wasn't his first soundtrack, either. It was his third. But he got this movie. He understood its heart and its tongue-in-cheek attitude. He captured the fun, drama, excitement and romance perfectly. He even received an Academy Award nomination for Best Original Song in 1988 for "Storybook Love." And the track for the sword fight? It couldn't be more perfect.
It's an interesting exercise to think about what a movie would be like with a different soundtrack. One composed by someone else with different ideas, a different style, different favorite instruments and chord progressions. Sometimes it's easy to imagine that. Some soundtracks should probably have had a different composer. Others are, quite simply, perfect. "The Princess Bride" is one of the latter.
Wednesday, May 2, 2018
My favorite music - album 2
So the second album that I listened to death was Romanza by Andrea Bocelli. This was the first Bocelli recording I bought, and I got it because he sang some of the songs in Spanish and, at the time, I could understand the words.
For those of you who are fluent in a second language (or more, if you're an overachiever), this may not be a big deal. For me, it was. I took three years of Spanish in college, including two semesters of Spanish literature, so I had enough knowledge of the language to pick up some of the words. I can't tell you how excited I was.
According to imdb.com, "Andrea did not begin his singing career until the late 1980s, when he began performing in piano bars throughout Italy. Before then he earned a law degree from the University of Pisa. In 1993 he was signed to a record contract after a scout heard him sing during a party." How cool is that! He's blind, as well, but that doesn't affect how he sings.
He's got an easy sound, by which I mean his voice isn't harsh or overtrained but is pleasant to the ear. He's a singer I could listen to by the hour. He has performed and recorded some opera, but he isn't strictly an opera singer. I wore out the cassette tape for Romanza. And I think I wore out a CD. I've since purchased most of Bocelli's recordings, but none of them has the same aura as Romanza. I don't remember where I first heard him sing, but I've been in love with his voice since the first note.
For those of you who are fluent in a second language (or more, if you're an overachiever), this may not be a big deal. For me, it was. I took three years of Spanish in college, including two semesters of Spanish literature, so I had enough knowledge of the language to pick up some of the words. I can't tell you how excited I was.
According to imdb.com, "Andrea did not begin his singing career until the late 1980s, when he began performing in piano bars throughout Italy. Before then he earned a law degree from the University of Pisa. In 1993 he was signed to a record contract after a scout heard him sing during a party." How cool is that! He's blind, as well, but that doesn't affect how he sings.
He's got an easy sound, by which I mean his voice isn't harsh or overtrained but is pleasant to the ear. He's a singer I could listen to by the hour. He has performed and recorded some opera, but he isn't strictly an opera singer. I wore out the cassette tape for Romanza. And I think I wore out a CD. I've since purchased most of Bocelli's recordings, but none of them has the same aura as Romanza. I don't remember where I first heard him sing, but I've been in love with his voice since the first note.
Monday, April 23, 2018
My favorite music - album 1
As I was scrolling through Facebook recently, I came across a friend's post talking about an album that rocked his world. Evidently people are being encouraged to share the 10 albums that shaped them. OK. Sounds cool. So, I'll start with one of my favorites.
You've heard of Sarah Brightman, right? She sang Christine in the original "Phantom of the Opera" and was married to the legendary (not iconic, Mom) Andrew Lloyd Weber, who composed the role for her. She's got a beautifully pure clear soprano voice that I would give almost anything to sound like. Anyone, one of the first tapes, yes, cassette tape was the format du jour at the time, that I bought was Dive. I don't know why I got it as opposed to another of her recordings. Maybe it was the only one available at the music store. I wore out two copies of it I listened to it that much.
The track list is Dive, Captain Nemo, The Second Element, Ship of Fools, Once In a Lifetime, Cape Horn, A Salty Dog, Siren, Seven Seas, Johnny Wanna Live, By Now, Island, When It Rains In America, La Mer and The Second Element 2. I love the way the album starts. Each song leads into the next, building on the atmosphere. The feeling of the sea permeates the music, although Johnny Wanna Live is something of an anomaly, if I remember right.
I know I chose this recording because of Brightman. I'd heard and loved her voice in Phantom, so I knew what she would sound like. I didn't know the specific songs, but I learned them very quickly. I've since bought most of her albums, but none of them has the resonance for me of Dive.
You've heard of Sarah Brightman, right? She sang Christine in the original "Phantom of the Opera" and was married to the legendary (not iconic, Mom) Andrew Lloyd Weber, who composed the role for her. She's got a beautifully pure clear soprano voice that I would give almost anything to sound like. Anyone, one of the first tapes, yes, cassette tape was the format du jour at the time, that I bought was Dive. I don't know why I got it as opposed to another of her recordings. Maybe it was the only one available at the music store. I wore out two copies of it I listened to it that much.
The track list is Dive, Captain Nemo, The Second Element, Ship of Fools, Once In a Lifetime, Cape Horn, A Salty Dog, Siren, Seven Seas, Johnny Wanna Live, By Now, Island, When It Rains In America, La Mer and The Second Element 2. I love the way the album starts. Each song leads into the next, building on the atmosphere. The feeling of the sea permeates the music, although Johnny Wanna Live is something of an anomaly, if I remember right.
I know I chose this recording because of Brightman. I'd heard and loved her voice in Phantom, so I knew what she would sound like. I didn't know the specific songs, but I learned them very quickly. I've since bought most of her albums, but none of them has the resonance for me of Dive.
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
Don't like the weather? Wait five ... oh, never mind
They say it's spring. Yesterday's calendar clearly says "First Day of Spring."
Don't believe everything you read.
Yesterday might have been the first day of spring, but you wouldn't have known it looking out the window. It was cloudy and rainy and there was even a thin layer of snow on my car when I left for work yesterday morning. Spring? I think not.
But spring is coming. We all know that, right? At some point the weather will be nice - the sun will shine, the grass will turn green, the air will be warm and we'll leave our coats at home. People will open windows and let the pleasant air into their homes that have been shut up since November. We'll think about having a picnic. We'll break out the grills and go for walks and it'll be great.
For a day or two.
Then the temperatures will be too warm. The windows will be closed and the air conditioning turned on. We'll start complaining about how hot and, in some places, humid it is. We won't want to go outside because "we'll melt." (Only snowmen and ice sculptures can say that in absolute truth, though.) We'll search for the pool's hours and try to figure out how long we can stay after work.
And the next thing you know, it'll be fall. Football will start and temperatures will start to drop. Then winter hits and we deal with snow, treacherous surfaces and wondering if we'll get a snow day. And then you turn around and it's spring again.
Don't believe everything you read.
Yesterday might have been the first day of spring, but you wouldn't have known it looking out the window. It was cloudy and rainy and there was even a thin layer of snow on my car when I left for work yesterday morning. Spring? I think not.
But spring is coming. We all know that, right? At some point the weather will be nice - the sun will shine, the grass will turn green, the air will be warm and we'll leave our coats at home. People will open windows and let the pleasant air into their homes that have been shut up since November. We'll think about having a picnic. We'll break out the grills and go for walks and it'll be great.
For a day or two.
Then the temperatures will be too warm. The windows will be closed and the air conditioning turned on. We'll start complaining about how hot and, in some places, humid it is. We won't want to go outside because "we'll melt." (Only snowmen and ice sculptures can say that in absolute truth, though.) We'll search for the pool's hours and try to figure out how long we can stay after work.
And the next thing you know, it'll be fall. Football will start and temperatures will start to drop. Then winter hits and we deal with snow, treacherous surfaces and wondering if we'll get a snow day. And then you turn around and it's spring again.
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Unexpected
It's a Tuesday night, and I'm at home. I've been home since about 5:15 when I parked my car in the parking lot and entered my apartment.
Why is this important? Because it rarely happens. Most Tuesday nights I'm at a game of some sort, taking hundreds of pictures for the paper and then getting home after 9. It takes awhile to unwind, of course, especially if the game was anywhere close to exciting, so I don't even think about bed until much later than I probably should.
But tonight? I might just go to bed today instead of tomorrow.
And why am I home on a Tuesday night? That is the question, after all. With apologies to Ken, I must discourse briefly on the weather. Sunday we had rain most of the day, although temps were in the 40s. Monday was a different animal. It started to snow overnight and the wind was howling. Individually, those aren't unconquerable. Together they're a monster, a.k.a. a blizzard. Or at least blizzard conditions. We were in a blizzard warning most of Monday, school was cancelled, businesses closed early or didn't open at all - except us, of course.
This week is the Central Conference basketball tournament. That's Seward's conference. So with the weather Monday, Monday's games were moved to Tuesday and Tuesday's to Wednesday. Then today was still cold (it is winter, after all) and I don't think as much snow got moved as people expected. Now Monday's games, which were moved to Tuesday, will be played on Wednesday. Tuesday's/Wednesday's games are now Thursday.
Long story short - there were no games tonight so I didn't have to go anywhere. It was great. I had Pizza Hut bring me dinner and I've spent most of the evening working on my stamp collection. I got the 2017 pages and was putting stamps on them. While most will think that's a rather nerdy pursuit, I'll agree. But it's been very relaxing.
Tomorrow everything will crank back up to speed, I'll make sure the camera card is cleared off and photos are uploaded, but the few moments of down time have been enjoyable.
Why is this important? Because it rarely happens. Most Tuesday nights I'm at a game of some sort, taking hundreds of pictures for the paper and then getting home after 9. It takes awhile to unwind, of course, especially if the game was anywhere close to exciting, so I don't even think about bed until much later than I probably should.
But tonight? I might just go to bed today instead of tomorrow.
And why am I home on a Tuesday night? That is the question, after all. With apologies to Ken, I must discourse briefly on the weather. Sunday we had rain most of the day, although temps were in the 40s. Monday was a different animal. It started to snow overnight and the wind was howling. Individually, those aren't unconquerable. Together they're a monster, a.k.a. a blizzard. Or at least blizzard conditions. We were in a blizzard warning most of Monday, school was cancelled, businesses closed early or didn't open at all - except us, of course.
This week is the Central Conference basketball tournament. That's Seward's conference. So with the weather Monday, Monday's games were moved to Tuesday and Tuesday's to Wednesday. Then today was still cold (it is winter, after all) and I don't think as much snow got moved as people expected. Now Monday's games, which were moved to Tuesday, will be played on Wednesday. Tuesday's/Wednesday's games are now Thursday.
Long story short - there were no games tonight so I didn't have to go anywhere. It was great. I had Pizza Hut bring me dinner and I've spent most of the evening working on my stamp collection. I got the 2017 pages and was putting stamps on them. While most will think that's a rather nerdy pursuit, I'll agree. But it's been very relaxing.
Tomorrow everything will crank back up to speed, I'll make sure the camera card is cleared off and photos are uploaded, but the few moments of down time have been enjoyable.
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
Snow day rumors
It's currently in the 40s outside, but rumor and the weatherman say the snow is coming.
I wish I could still get snow days. I never appreciated them properly when I got them. As it is, I live close enough to the office that I can walk there, whatever the weather. Last winter, you may have seen me shuffling down Seward Street one morning, praying I didn't fall on my backside, as I made my way to work.
Snow days when I was in school, though, were different animals. My siblings and I would pray for snow days. Any reason to get out of school was a good reason. When we lived in Franklin, we'd play in the basement. We had a ping-pong table which was good for lots of fun. The basement wasn't finished, so there was no ceiling, only the floor joists. We'd try to bounce the ping-pong ball hard enough to make it rattle between the joists, which we thought was the most hilarious thing ever. Once we got tired of that, we'd roller skate. The basement ran the length of the house and was a concrete floor, so roller skating was no problem. We'd skate from the fireplace on one end around the ping-pong table on the other end and back. When we got tired of that, we'd use the ping-pong table as the structure for a roomy blanket fort. Toy cars and their related accessories would often find their way under the table. That was really more for my brothers. I preferred to read.
When Mom got tired of having us underfoot (usually early afternoon), she'd send us over to find Dad at school. We were only two blocks from the school, and Dad had keys. We'd knock on his window and he'd come to the door and let us in. We'd go to the gym where Dad would unlock the basketball cage and we'd shoot for a couple hours. The boys could have gone on for longer. Me, not so much. I'd shoot for awhile, but they were tireless. They'd shoot from everywhere on the court, having their own contests, while I'd work on free throws and jump shots. I wasn't that good, and I knew it, but without that practice I would have been much worse.
Sometimes my brothers and I would play in Dad's classroom. He had the coolest chalk holder, a lightweight metal tube in which you could put chalk and when you used it, the chalk dust wouldn't get all over your hands. We'd write "assignments" on the chalkboard while Dad was out running the halls. We'd take Dad's wheeled chair into the hallway (which we weren't supposed to do) and take turns pushing each other up and down the hall. The third person was the lookout, warning the other two when Dad was coming. Once we got the high sign, we'd hurry as fast as we could back to Dad's room, pretending we hadn't left the whole time he was running laps. I'm sure Dad knew what we were doing, but he never let on.
So when I see schools will be closed, that's what I remember.
I wish I could still get snow days. I never appreciated them properly when I got them. As it is, I live close enough to the office that I can walk there, whatever the weather. Last winter, you may have seen me shuffling down Seward Street one morning, praying I didn't fall on my backside, as I made my way to work.
Snow days when I was in school, though, were different animals. My siblings and I would pray for snow days. Any reason to get out of school was a good reason. When we lived in Franklin, we'd play in the basement. We had a ping-pong table which was good for lots of fun. The basement wasn't finished, so there was no ceiling, only the floor joists. We'd try to bounce the ping-pong ball hard enough to make it rattle between the joists, which we thought was the most hilarious thing ever. Once we got tired of that, we'd roller skate. The basement ran the length of the house and was a concrete floor, so roller skating was no problem. We'd skate from the fireplace on one end around the ping-pong table on the other end and back. When we got tired of that, we'd use the ping-pong table as the structure for a roomy blanket fort. Toy cars and their related accessories would often find their way under the table. That was really more for my brothers. I preferred to read.
When Mom got tired of having us underfoot (usually early afternoon), she'd send us over to find Dad at school. We were only two blocks from the school, and Dad had keys. We'd knock on his window and he'd come to the door and let us in. We'd go to the gym where Dad would unlock the basketball cage and we'd shoot for a couple hours. The boys could have gone on for longer. Me, not so much. I'd shoot for awhile, but they were tireless. They'd shoot from everywhere on the court, having their own contests, while I'd work on free throws and jump shots. I wasn't that good, and I knew it, but without that practice I would have been much worse.
Sometimes my brothers and I would play in Dad's classroom. He had the coolest chalk holder, a lightweight metal tube in which you could put chalk and when you used it, the chalk dust wouldn't get all over your hands. We'd write "assignments" on the chalkboard while Dad was out running the halls. We'd take Dad's wheeled chair into the hallway (which we weren't supposed to do) and take turns pushing each other up and down the hall. The third person was the lookout, warning the other two when Dad was coming. Once we got the high sign, we'd hurry as fast as we could back to Dad's room, pretending we hadn't left the whole time he was running laps. I'm sure Dad knew what we were doing, but he never let on.
So when I see schools will be closed, that's what I remember.
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