Monday is out to get me

You guys (looks left, then right), you know Monday? It’s out to get me.

Sounds crazy, you say? Well, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

Monday has always been my nemesis. It lies in wait, lurking in the weeds, waiting to pounce every week. And pounce it does.

Perhaps a little context would be helpful. See, Monday is a busy day at the Independent. We have two newspapers we put out that day, and we do our best to get started on the three papers we create on Tuesday. I spend the day picking out and adjusting photos from the previous week, writing sports stories (which I can’t do early, in case you’re wondering - it’s very hard to write a Friday night football game on Thursday, you see) and putting pages together. I also help with page proofing when I can. And it all has to be done by 6 p.m.

So, Mondays are a challenge to begin with.

Throw in the fact that you’re just coming off a weekend and you really don’t want to go back to work anyway, and Mondays can be evil.

This past Monday was especially Monday-ish. I got up early to try to finish some formatting before heading to the office. Normally that’s not bad, but I was up a little later than usual Sunday night, which meant less sleep than I should probably get. So, I got the formatting done and headed to the office.

I knew I needed to get gas because my fuel light came on on the way home from church Sunday night. So, I thought, since I needed some tea for work anyway, I’d just fill my gas tank. I got to the stop light and realized my wallet was still in my church bag. So, I turned around and went back home to get it.

Pull up to the gas tank, insert loyalty card, wait for the next step in fueling my car. Nothing. The pump didn’t initialize or tell me to insert my credit or debit card. OK, Monday, don’t mess with me. So I went in to ask that the pump be reset. I was told it was ready to pump. I went back to the car, but the pump hadn’t reset. Back to the cashier, who told me my loyalty card was locking up the system. Seriously, Monday? I had to move to a different pump and not use my loyalty card. (Rolls eyes and shakes head)

I got to the office and got to work. Missed deadline for paper one - not a big surprise. It’s really hard for me to make a noon deadline with nine stories to write and five to eight more to format, with related photos and stat boxes (at least currently). But Monday has a hand in that, believe me.

Then comes paper two. This one currently requires 12 stories formatted and 13 written, along with related photos and stat boxes, to be done by 6 p.m. See what I mean about Monday lurking in the weeds? I missed deadline again, but only by about 15 minutes. And that was Monday’s fault. It’s decided that InDesign, the desktop publishing program we use for layout, should crash between 5:45 and 6 p.m. Not cool, Monday! What did I ever do to you?

Now, my family has a history with days. For a time, Thursdays were pursuing my brother Andrew. I don’t know what he did to convince Thursday to leave him alone, but he’s managed to draw up a truce. I may be checking in with him for advice.

I’ve asked to cancel Monday completely, but then Tuesday becomes Monday. If you cancel that, Wednesday is Monday.

And really, no other day could conceivably become Monday. Tuesdays just try to distance themselves from Monday. Wednesdays have far too good an attitude to become Monday. Thursdays tried to be Monday but weren’t as insidious as they needed to be. Fridays are too laid back to take Monday’s place, and of course Saturday and Sunday are too cool.

So I have to figure out how to outsmart Monday. There has to be something I can do that will make Monday leave me alone. Or at least be a little nicer. (Snaps fingers) I’ve got it!

Hey, Monday! I play the 1812 Overture at you! I aim my speakers in your direction and crank the volume, especially on the cannons. Ha ha! Wait! Nooooooo! My speakers!

Curse you, Monday! (Shakes fist) I’ll get you yet. I’ll find some way to put you in your place, giving me the serene start to the week I wish for.

(Monday unleashes an evil, maniacal laugh.)

Reading, writing, no 'rithmatic

I like to read. A lot. I usually have a book with me, whether I think I might need it or not. Inevitably when I don’t have one, I need it.

Of course I have favorite authors. I tend to lean toward the fantasy genre - I love J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis and Stephen Lawhead. But I also like mysteries, especially authors like Anne Perry, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Ellis Peters. Books by more “classical” writers, like Jane Austen and Thomas Costain, also have places on my shelves. And I can’t forget books for a younger audience, like those by Rick Riordan and Brian Jacques.

I’m working my way through a whole bunch of series – Bernard Cornwell’s Sharpe books, Terry Brooks’s Shannara collection, Clive Cussler’s Dirk Pitt set, Winston Graham’s Poldark saga and Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey/Maturin adventures, to name a few.

It’s easy to overdose on a style. I’ve found, if I read more than a couple books in the same genre or by the same author back to back, I have a hard time getting back to them. All the characteristics of that genre, for example, are stuck in my head and spoil my enjoyment of that book or series. If I’m ready several mysteries in a row, the hardboiled detective starts to get on my nerves. The put-upon hero needs to grow a spine. The angry villain needs counseling or something.

So, I try to mix things up. I’ll go from Terry Pratchett to Laura Childs to something nonfiction. That way I’m making myself read something that’s not fiction, which is not a genre to which I gravitate. Now, I have read some good nonfiction books in recent years. Infamous Scribblers by Eric Burns chronicles the early history of journalism in America. Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow is about, wait for it … yep, Alexander Hamilton, the Founding Father Lin-Manuel Miranda chose to base a musical on.

I’m currently reading All the Gallant Men by Donald Stratton, which is his memories of serving on the USS Arizona and in other places during World War II. I’ve also got Persuasion by Jane Austen going. Mom and I disagree on Jane Austen - she doesn’t like Persuasion. I do and reread it every so often. I’m most of the way through The Fall of Gondolin by J.R.R. Tolkien, as well.

As one who writes for a living, I think it’s important to read a variety of styles and authors. There was a time when I first started in journalism that I wasn’t reading as much. At one point, I started losing my vocabulary. It was a little scary, actually. I knew I knew the word I was looking for, but I couldn’t come up with it. I tried to figure out why and determined it was because I wasn’t reading. I walked the block to the library and checked out a new book. That solved that problem (eventually).

Anyway, I like to read. And I read as much as I can. You might see me at lunch with a book on the table by my plate or seated in the bleachers at a ball game at halftime, nose in a book. I don’t read while I’m driving, though. That time (if I’m not listening to the radio) often goes to an audiobook.

Name that tune

You have to be careful with music.

Well, I have to be careful with music. It can be a mood-altering substance.

Let me explain what I mean. When I’m watching a movie or TV show and something sad is happening, I may or may not tear up. But if the background music is sad or even melancholy, I can guarantee dampness on my cheeks, even dripping onto my shirt.

The writing and acting don’t even have to be that good.

I know, it’s ridiculous. But I’ve always been that way.

It’s the combination of what’s happening on screen with the mood evoked by the soundtrack, I think. I’m already disposed to allow tears if the scene is sad or touching or if the characters are crying. Throw in the atmospheric soundtrack, and just hand me the tissue box.

It doesn’t even matter if I know what’s coming. For example, [spoiler alert] I know Boromir is going to die in The Fellowship of the Ring. I know he’s going to sacrifice himself to try to save Merry and Pippin, going out as a hero. But that doesn’t matter. Tears flow every time I see or read the scene.

Then I have to be careful when I listen to the soundtrack. If I’m paying attention and recognize the cue, I may have to blink rapidly.

There are other songs that get me, too. Taps, for example, brings tears every time I hear it. I know why it’s played. I always think about the soldiers who didn’t come home, the families with empty seats at the table. I’m thankful my family hasn’t had to work through that, but I feel for the families who have.

And then there are the songs that get the juices flowing, as the saying goes. Any time you go to a sporting event, you hear Jock Jams and pep bands. Athletes bring their headphones to listen to their favorite songs. I’ve tried to create my own play lists, but it’s a lot harder to get pumped up for a more cerebral exercise like writing than for a more physical one like sports.

I’ve got a soft spot for soundtracks, too. Anyone who has seen my music collection will tell you that. Some cues bring certain scenes to mind. The Princess Bride is one of those - I watch the movie in my head when I hear the music. And some pieces make my heart jump with joy - the main theme from Star Wars is a perfect example.

Pieces like Scheherazade rank high on my list of classical favorites. Albums like Loreena McKinnett’s The Book of Secrets, Sarah Brightman’s Dive and Andrea Bocelli’s Romanza get played a lot. In fact, I wore out copies of Dive and Romanza, listening to them over and over in my car.

I know each of us has different tastes when it comes to music, and that’s OK. We can agree to disagree and even try something new occasionally. Friends and family have suggested different artists. Some of them I didn’t care for. Others I can’t get enough of and buy pretty much everything they’ve released.

That’s the fun of music. There’s something for everyone. You just have to be careful - you don’t know what it’ll do to you.

Don't look at the date

I said don't. Don't do it. If you do, I'll regret it. Why? Because once again an entire month has slipped away, and I haven't taken the time to post anything.

Granted, I have been rather busy. We've had the Seward County Fair and related results section, the fall sports preview sections (hooray for that!), the start of school (again, I'm hearing hoorays from parents with school-aged children) and this week a short deadline. Excuses, excuses, I know. But that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

I didn't want to bring up coronavirus because I'm really, really tired of hearing about it. Every story I write, every picture I take has corona overtones. The county fair was dialed back to just 4-H and FFA this year out of corona caution. I wasn't sure if we'd actually get to have school or fall sports because of potential corona cancellations. We have seen a few games called off because of coronavirus, but it's not been overwhelming. Unless, of course, you're the Big 10, in which case we've seen corona crazy.

I'm still shaking my head over the Big 10's decision to call off fall sports. It's one of two major conferences to make this decision. I understand caution. I understand not wanting to risk exposing students to the potential of the virus. But this was extreme. The Big 10 leadership is taking a deserved beating, I think. Nebraska has been at the forefront of a push to get these leaders to change their minds. The athletes just want to compete. The coaches just want to coach. The fans just want to cheer for their teams. That's what they do. But so far, no dice.

And then there are officials at a Nebraska high school who decided visiting teams can't bring fans. The home team gets to have family members and friends, but no one from the visiting team can come. Talk about your home field advantage. Not the wisest of decisions, in my opinion.

Anyway ...

I think we've all overdosed on the 'rona, as I've heard it called. It's all we hear - how many new cases, how many tests, how many deaths, where's the risk dial, where's my mask. I decided one night a couple weeks ago to time how long one of our local news stations spent on its evening broadcast talking about corona. Seven minutes that night. Seven minutes of the 24 or so they have (35 minutes minus commercials) devoted to the virus. That's 1/3 of their time. Granted that night one of the stories in the sports segment was about a former Husker battling CV. But still, we're talking 25% of the newscast. No wonder we're sick of coronavirus. (See what I did there?)

But the return of high school sports, at least, has allowed us to feel more normal. We have a space where coronavirus isn't the primary topic of conversation. We have another topic of conversation! We can talk about the Goldbugs or the Flyers or the Cats (or whatever your mascot is), even if we can't talk about the Huskers. We can argue over a referee's call or a coach's decision.

At last.

Go Big, well, Blue (times six), Red (times two), Orange (times two), Purple and Green.

What is home?

I recently read a book called "The Nature of Home" by Lisa Knopp. I'm not sure where I first heard of it, but since it was time for nonfiction in my reading history, I went with it.

Knopp's book is divided by definitions, which I thought was interesting. She used a word and its definition as a chance to set up the following essay. Her words are nostalgia, home, alien and native, creative, citizen, body, consume, beauty, faith, adaptation, niche, sojourner, history, settle, hearth, neighbor, community, relic, metaphor, quintessence, heaven and homewell. Each addresses a different idea of what home is.

For many, home is a building where a family spends its time and makes its memories. Knopp says that's part of what home is. But home as an idea is more than that. It's the history of the area, its geography, flora and fauna and its people.

While I don't necessarily agree with all her conclusions, I do understand her jumping off point. Knopp is a native Nebraskan and spent several years outside the state. She felt a physical yearning for "home" so strong that she was sick until she moved back. When I lived in South Carolina, I wanted nothing more than to come back to Nebraska, to see the star-spangled sky without city lights intruding, to watch the sun set over the horizon, not over a cityscape. I missed the space I associated with home, and by space I don't just mean the outline on a map. I mean the area - the air, sneezing at corn pollen, smelling new-mown hay; the sights, clouds rolling across the sky, water towers from miles away; the sounds, cattle lowing, tractors puttering along country roads. I felt claustrophobic in the city, as though the windows of buildings taller than any I knew were eyes watching my every move. I felt trapped in the city's maze of streets. Although I found my way around, there were way too many people and cars - too much civilization for one such as I.

Back on the flat lands of the prairie, I'm comfortable. Some may feel exposed on the prairie. I feel more confident. I know, or I can find, where I'm going. I like trying to guess how far away a grain elevator or water tower is. It's fun to speculate on who's raising the cloud of dust on the gravel road. And the one-finger wave is a staple (that's the index finger, by the way). The sounds of the wind rustling through the wheat or corn stalks, the cattle mooing as they meander around their pastures, the farm equipment as it moves from one field to another - they're the sounds I know.

Some day, in all my free time, maybe I'll attempt my own set of essays about the nature of my home. I could use the same words Knopp chose, share how they relate to me and write about them. Because our experiences and belief systems are different, my book would be different from her's. But there would be similarities because we both understand how important the idea of home is.

Watching my hands

Have you every watched yourself do something?

I'm not talking about on Zoom during meetings, where you just can't help staring at yourself on the screen and thinking, "Do I really make that face when I'm bored?" or "I *don't* have any sort of poker face at all."

I play the piano for services at my church every other month. We're finally back to in-person services, which is awesome, but when we were online, I played for a couple weeks. The video crew had a camera sitting next to the piano, which meant up close looks at the pianist's hands as she played. (maybe this link will work to show you mine - you'll have to fast forward to about 4:00 before the service)

It was weird.

I don't usually watch my hands while I'm playing (or typing, for that matter). I'm more focused on the music. I'll glance down occasionally to make sure I'm in the right place on the keyboard, but for the most part, my eyes are glued to the music (or to the computer screen when I'm writing).

So to see what my hands look like when I'm playing the piano was surreal. They were quieter than I thought. When you watch professional concert pianists in their performances, their hands are flying up and down, back and forth, all over the keyboard. They're often more dramatic, with big flourishes and an almost aerobic playing style. I don't play like that - at least not on purpose.

But it was still odd to watch. I was trying to recall what my piano teacher taught me, but it's been so long, I can't remember. She had smaller hands than mine, so her way of playing required more jumps. I can actually reach 10 notes if I stretch, but I don't think she could reach a full octave. I'm sure she didn't let me add the flourishes and drama outside of the music. Of course, I was learning in the days before home video equipment, so there aren't any recordings of my first-grade self learning, being frustrated to tears, threatening to quit. Nope, no drama at all.

But it's strange to watch my own hands. I see them from the top all the time, curved over the keys, poised to put what's in my mind on the screen or what's on the page into the audiosphere. Watching them from the side is like watching someone else perform.

Still things to do

To tell you how quiet/bland/uneventful my life currently is, I mopped my kitchen and bathroom floors this weekend. Granted, that was a task that had been on my list for, well, I'm not even sure how long. I'd swept them and run a Swiffer over them, but they really needed a mop. It's kind of nice to walk into the bathroom and not see four inches of dust (wide, not deep, by the way) on the floor by the wall.

Now that's done, I'm not sure what to do next. Perhaps I should dust my bookshelves. The only problem with that, though, is I'm pretty sure I'll be distracted by a title or two, stop to flip through them, then take one to the couch and that's the end of the dusting.

I could clean out my cedar chest, dresser and closet and donate some of the clothing I haven't worn in a year or two. I could go through my books, music and movies and do the same thing (not that I wear these, but you know what I mean). However, the likelihood of distraction is about 100% in all cases. I suppose I should just bite the bullet and get those tasks done.

With all this "free" time, I should be practicing the piano, too, so when we can get back to church and it's my turn to play, I'm not fumbling about the keyboard, trying to find the right notes.

Then there are the myriad stories floating around in my head, just waiting for me to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard). I need to finish writing the Christmas program for church this year (which is begun, by the way). At some point, I want to find my negatives and scan them so I have digital versions of my pictures.

Here's hoping the COVID-19 restrictions are lifted long before I can finish everything on my list.

God knows

I was reminded today that God knows what's going on and that He's in control. And it's not just the big things like COVID-19 or the political morass in Washington, D.C., or climate change.

He is in control of the little things, too. Case in point.

I started reading "The Purpose Driven Life" by Rick Warren in 2004. At the time, my friend Lorri and I were going to read through it together and share what we learned with each other.  For whatever reason, we got to chapter 14 and stopped. At least that's where my notes stop. :)

Flash forward to today. I've had "The Purpose Driven Life" on my bookshelf ever since, sitting next to the notebook I was using to take notes. Finally I felt like it was time to return to the book as part of my daily devotions (that aren't necessarily daily, but at least they happen more regularly than they used to). Anyway, about a week ago, I started with chapter one. I haven't gone back to review my notes. I don't want me from 15 years ago to interfere with what God has for me today. Anyway, today was chapter seven, which talks about God's goal for us - glorifying Him. Warren gives a brief overview of the five purposes God has for us, which include becoming more like Christ. I knew that. That's been part of the teaching of every church I've attended in my life. We're commanded to recognize and reflect His glory, honor it, declare it and praise Him.

OK, so far so good. Now for God's control.

Tonight's prayer meeting scripture was Ecclesiastes 9:1-10, in which God gives us four things to enjoy during our time on this planet - meals (hooray!), life in general, marriage (an area I'm not part of) and work. Work. Ouch. If I'm truly living for God's glory, I have to enjoy work. Now, I love what I do. I love getting to watch young athletes hone their skills and improve at the sports they love and share their successes with people who read our papers. But there are things about work I don't enjoy. Deadlines, for one. Sure, we say we work "better" when we're on a deadline. I'm not sure that's the case - we just work faster and have to be done at a given point. Office drama, for another. Every office has its soap operas, right? I do not enjoy those. I don't enjoy seeing people unhappy in their chosen profession. But I have to remember I'm not working for my boss or the company that owns our papers. I'm working for Christ. He's my ultimate boss. By enjoying work, I'm reflecting His glory.

To have both thoughts thrown at me in the same day is not circumstance or happenstance or any other stance. It's sovereign direction. It's God showing His control over the little things. My friend Lisa and I found Lamentations 3:12-13 during our senior year in college: "He hath bent his bow, and set me as a mark for the arrow. He hath caused the arrows of his quiver to enter into my reins."

Now, true Bible scholars will have great, deep interpretations of these two verses, but we decided that they meant God takes target practice. He knows what we need to hear and when we need to hear it. He has the arrow of His wisdom and teaching nocked on the string, and we're the target. And He never misses. Sometimes the arrows are more the size of 2x4s because He needs to get my attention. But He knows exactly what we need to hear to be challenged to take that next step in our spiritual walk. And as we walk with Him, we reflect His glory.

So, how's your coronalife going?

I feel like I'm overdosing on corona stuff. I told the ladies in the front office they needed to answer the phone: "Thank you for calling the Seward County Independent, where we're all coronavirus all the time." Our papers this week were wall-to-wall CV. It's been the lead story on the television news every night for the last month, I think. It's disrupted everything - schools, sports, social lives. I realize it's the biggest thing to happen in America since 9/11, but can we please talk about something else, just for a moment?

I started putting a puzzle together over lunch, which was different. I don't usually come home for lunch, but with CV impacting my restaurant routine (dang it, I can't get away from CV even here), I got my food to go, brought it home and listened to classical music while sorting out the outside pieces.

As you can tell (or maybe not at this point), it's a circle puzzle. Those are a little more challenging because the pieces are such strange shapes. The outside pieces have apparently straight edges, but they're all just a little bit curved. The design is called "Romeo and Juliet," so not only is it good for the hand-eye coordination, but I'm also allowed to let my mind wander through the Shakespearean canon while hunting for pieces that fit together.

While my mind wanders, I can work through scenes for the Christmas program (hopefully we'll be back to normal by then) and other random scenes for the other stories floating around in my head.

Every once in awhile random quotes from plays I've seen and read float into my mind. I took a Shakespeare class in college, and we read 10 of his plays - most were plays we'd heard of, but a couple were new to me. Then the other day I watched "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Abridged" again. I love that performance. I get a kick out of Othello and the fast and backwards versions of Hamlet. Titus Andronicus (Shakespeare's Quentin Tarantino phase) cracks me up, too, as do the histories. I actually got to see the play done live from the front row (yes, the very first row in the theater), which was pretty awesome.

When I got home from work (no games to go to since everything's been suspended or cancelled because of, oh rats, CV), I got the outside put together. Hooray! It's always good to have a framework to build the rest from. We'll see how long it takes me to put the whole thing together. I'll have most of Saturday and Sunday at home with virtual church (CV again - it's pervasive!) and no events to cover.  I have a couple other puzzles waiting in the wings, too.

Happy coronalife!

It even looks like the sun's corona!

Now that I have time ...

Yeah, right.

So, for those of you who don't know, my primary job is covering sports - high school and college, mainly. Right now, there's nothing happening. People keep asking me what I'm going to do with my time. Well, I have plenty of things to do.

I have several TV series I haven't watched yet, so I could spend time doing that. I have a whole bunch of books on my shelves I haven't read yet, so I could do that. I've got cross-stitch projects that I could do. I've got letters I could write, emails I could compose, the church Christmas program to write. I could always clean my apartment.

At work, we're trying to keep up with the daily coronavirus developments or corona chaos, as I'm calling it. Because we're weekly papers, trying to provide the most up-to-date, accurate information we can is more of a challenge. I'm hoping we're not all coronavirus all the time - that would get old very quickly.

As I've thought about how the social/sports/school landscape looks now, my heart hurts for the seniors. These kids (both high school and college) are watching their senior year trickle away. So many of the senior year events have been postponed or cancelled. Local musicals are postponed. Classes are individual - no interaction with your classmates and friends. Spring sports have been pushed back and may not even happen. Actually, at the college level, they aren't happening. The NCAA and NAIA have cancelled the spring seasons - no track, no baseball, no softball, no golf.

I can only imagine how disappointed those athletes are. I know how I felt when I didn't get to play in the final game of my high school basketball "career." I wasn't a great player, but I thought the coach would let all of the seniors play at least a few seconds. Nope. But to not even have the season ...

Anyway, I'll try to be a little more consistent posting. I'll let you know how I'm spending my "free" time. Stay safe and healthy, everyone.