Listening

I would like to be a better listener. I've been thinking about that for years, but I often forget. A good conversation stirs up a ton of ideas in my head, and I want to talk them out. This helps me develop, sort, understand those ideas.

Listening is sometimes difficult. It's difficult for a number of reasons, but the one that stands out in my mind right now is this: after listening intently to someone, he expects you to say something when he's done talking. But sometimes when I truly listen (I'm more likely to do this if it seems the topic is really important to the other person), I don't know what to say. Sometimes the topic is so ... "big" that my mind hasn't had a chance to process it. Other times, the speaker's comments give birth to emerging ideas, I want to talk them out, and it seems like I wasn't listening. Maybe I wasn't. It's hard to tell sometimes. You think you know what someone was saying, but then you find out you don't. Did the person speaking even know what he was saying? What if he was simply developing the ideas as he spoke?

I will try listening more. When I don't know what to say in response, maybe I'll just say "Let me think about this some more. I can tell you what I think after I sort through some ideas." I've done that a few times in the past. I sort of felt like thinking about the issue(s) for a while would breed some sort of enlightenment. I don't think that really happened ... I just had something more substantive to say. I guess that is a form of enlightenment.

Six Hours

I studied a little more than six hours today. My brain hurts. T said he would study 12-13 hours. How is that even possible?

Jurisdiction

Maybe if I write this on the blog, it will help me remember. I tend to think hard about the stuff I post.

Federal subject matter jurisdiction can be explained by two theories: 1) diversity jurisdiction and 2) federal question jurisdiction.

Diversity jurisdiction exists where the plaintiff and the defendant are domiciled in two different states, and the amount in issue is greater than $75,000. If one of the parties is a corporation, the corporation must be considered a citizen of the state in which it is incorporated and the state in which it has its principal place of business. Pesky corporations! A corporation is like a person ... except it can be in more than one place at the same time. But moving on ...

Federal question jurisdiction exists where the case or controversy at hand is properly addressed by federal law rather than state law. In other words, "The district courts shall have original jurisdiction of all civil actions arising under the Constitution, laws, or treaties of the United States." 28 U.S.C. 1331. There is no longer an amount in controversy requirement for federal question jurisdiction.

So there we have it, in all its glory. I hope. At any rate, the time has come to close the books, and go out for a gin and tonic. Happy Friday to you and yours.

Letters

I love reading letters. The really old ones are the best. The other night, I read one addressed to my father. It was dated January 20, 1976. The letter is from a judge, James Del Rio, who I believe was a childhood friend/acquaintance of my father's. It basically thanks him for serving as a juror, and asks him to encourage friends, family, and neighbors to serve when summoned. Judges in Michigan are elected, so I suspect this fact played a role in the Honorable Mr. Del Rio's taking time to write a former juror. The jury pool is selected from the body of registered voters, yes?

I keep most of my letters in an old shoebox. It's actually a pretty big shoebox, so there are a lot of letters in it. I think the oldest ones go back to seventh grade. Letters from my uncle (they were soooo long!), letters from classmates, letters from penpals. Some are elaborately folded, almost like origami. Others have frayed edges ... obviously the result of being ripped out of a spiral notebook. Still others aren't letters in the truest sense, but simply slips of paper with a girl's name and a telephone number. No, they probably are letters in the truest sense ... why else would they have ended up in the shoebox reserved for special letters?

oh, oh ... flashback: Ninth grade, the day I switched English classes rather late in the semester. I went into the new class, was assigned a seat, and started doing the assignment. Everybody was already working or reading silently. I noticed a girl sitting a few rows over, who was reading a really thick paperback novel (she was done with the assignment). I don't remember what the book was, but I remember thinking it looked like a good book. Something a smart person would read. So as soon as I finished my work (I think I hurried to finish), I started talking to her about the book. Then when the bell rang, I made sure we kept talking about the book as I walked with her to her locker (which wasn't near my locker). I remember she was putting her stuff in the locker, and she was really short. So she had to step up into the locker to reach the top shelf where she was putting her books.

I was running out of stuff to say. You know, the "window" was closing. So I just said, "Can I call you?" When I said that, she was facing the locker, one foot on the bottom ledge, one hand reaching up toward the top shelf. And when she heard my question, the hand froze. Briefly, but long enough for me to be able to tell. And she just sort of shook her head 'yes', before she even turned around. She wore a pony tail; I remember it sort of danced around when she was shaking her head. Crazy ... I remember that vividly. I haven't thought about that day in a long time.

I called her, eventually asked her to be my girlfriend, she said "yes". We talked about books a lot. We were an "item" for the rest of ninth grade, and remained friends for a long time after that. Last I heard, she became a doctor. Anyway, I remember her handwriting was very neat and feminine. But with very bold strokes. I think she used exclamation points more than necessary. Not that that's a bad thing.

Some Thoughts

My brain is bursting with ideas, things to write about. But there just isn't enough time. Errands to run, stuff to read, phone calls to make. I will share some thoughts from this week:

a) I took a long, hot shower the other day. I stood there under the water for a while with my eyes closed, just sort of enjoying the steady water sound (is it called 'white noise'?) and the heat. I opened my eyes, and there were sunbeams coming through the bathroom window, and right on into the shower. We don't have a curtain; our shower has glass doors. Anyway, it was cool to watch little particles of water dancing around in the beams. Mist in sunbeams looks the same as dust in sunbeams. I've been taking showers in this house for years, and I don't ever remember seeing sunbeams in the shower. Timing is everything.

b) I feel a little bad about not telling more of my friends about this blog. I started to mention it a couple of times, but I refrained. I know some people will be offended or hurt. Feel left out. Don't take it that way guys. The blog is an attempt at self-expression, something to get me writing regularly. I'll tell you about this eventually, or you'll find it on your own, or ... I don't know, you'll know when you know, and that'll be the right time. The important thing is that I'm writing, right?

c) Ok, last thought. I'm getting pretty tired. I thought about words a lot this week. Sometimes I choose the wrong ones. I mean, to me they are the right ones, but I suspect my word choice is often offensive or unsettling to people. I don't mean to be offensive, but I do purposefully try to avoid using "Christian speak". I understand it to be a linguistic/cultural phenomenon by which religious people "sanitize" their conversation rather than engage in discourse that is truly pure.

For example, people say "Karen, bless her heart, she just [insert gently disparaging remark here]." But they really mean "That Karen ... what an idiot. She just [insert abrasively disparaging remark here]." I know that being tactful is important. Decorum has value. But sometimes, the way the hoi polloi say something is the way it should be said. At least if the "common" term more accurately conveys the meaning.

I guess that in order to be direct, tactful, and avoid "Christian speak" (which I think is almost inherently bad, btw) one must know his audience/listener.

Dreams of Napoleon Dynamite

I had a bunch of dreams last night. Actually, the dreams occured early this morning (I know because I woke up to go to the bathroom, and the dreams happened afterward). I had a dream about my dad. I was driving some type of station wagon, and my father's ashes were in some sort of sealed package in the back. I was worried about spilling the ashes. This is strange ... my father wasn't cremated.

I had a few dreams about posting on this blog. Topics kept running through my head. It was some time after 5:45 am this morning. Pretty odd, huh? Napoleon Dynamite ran through my head as well; I rented it last night.

Napoleon was a great political consultant. He believed in his candidate (Pedro) even when the candidate didn't believe in himself. He was able to say "Heck yeah, I'd vote for you" like he meant it. And he did mean it. He crafted a powerful message for Pedro to send out: If you vote for me, your wildest dreams will come true. That's pretty corny, but most political slogans are. And he was ready and willing to face ridicule and rejection in order to save the front man; he danced alone on stage, in front of the whole school, for his boy Pedro. Who wouldn't want a friend as devoted as Napoleon Dynamite?

And we can't forget Kip. Talk about a butterfly emerging from the cocoon. All I can say about Kip is this: by the end of the movie, he put the "angsta" in gangsta. For real.

Overall I enjoyed the movie. I laughed out loud a lot. But some scenes were ... painful. Napoleon was so awkward. I knew kids like that in high school. I tried to reach out a couple of times, but it was just too hard. It seemed to make everybody uncomfortable: the awkward kid, the other kids at school who thought 'what the hell are you doing?', and me.

One kid I had a bunch of classes with never said anything. Ever. To anybody. I called him a couple of times to find out what the homework was, and he gave me the assignments. I tried to chat, but it was like pulling teeth. I told him, "Thanks man. I'll give you a call. Maybe you can hang out with us." And then I forgot to call him. When I remembered, I didn't feel comfortable to talk to him in school. He'd never really look at you when you spoke to him, and his answers were as brief as possible. So yeah, I invited the guy to hang out, and then we never hung out. Damn ... that probably just made everything worse in his mind. Or maybe he didn't want to be bothered in the first place. He just seemed really alone. Even the teachers wouldn't call on him.

Dude ... if you happen to read this, I'm sorry we didn't hang out. We should have. The fellas and I should have tried harder to get you to come along. We could have made room for you in that rusty, beat up, 1981 Ford Fairmont that I used to drive.

Well, I hope that your life is good, or at least okay all these years later. Mine is good. I didn't see you at the ten year high school reunion, but I've heard we're having a fifteen year reunion. You should come.

My Hero

This is one of my favorite people. I dubbed her "Stinky Binky" (don't bother to ask ... it rhymes. that's all I've got for ya). "Stinky Binky" devolved into "Stinky Bink", which in turn became "Bink." Bink is a playwright, lawyer, and my personal super hero. She has a New York accent, so when she says "orange" or "Florida" I laugh (but not out loud). She is one of the most hopeful people I know. I want to be just like her when I grow up.

What's He Doing?

What on earth is God doing? My path twists and turns, diverges, seems to loop around and bring me back to the same spot. I'm lost. I don't really know where to go from here. I can't stand still ... but the steps forward (are they really forward?) are painful or monotonous. Sometimes they are both.

The other night I told my friend "I don't think God hears me." She said, "That's not true." When I asked how she knew that wasn't true, she said "Because I see Him in you." Okay. Sure. I guess. I don't feel Him though. I see His work surrounding me (in nature and via art for the most part), but ... that's sort of an intellectual thing. I want to feel it in my heart, in my gut.

Well. The house is silent. There's lots of sunshine pouring through my bedroom window. My twisty, zig-zag path has a bright spot. Seems like it would be sinful not to enjoy it.

Captain Hygiene

One of my nephews with a pretty friend. Last year, during a visit to Michigan, I saw him cheerfully walk out of the bathroom. I asked "Did you wash your hands?" (I hadn't heard any water running) His reply: "Uh ... I ... don't know how to do that."

Riiiiiiiight.

So I took him back into the bathroom, and said "Go ahead and wash your hands, man." And he actually pretended to not know how to do it! The Force is strong with me, so I didn't fall for such a simplistic Jedi Mind Trick. Hands were washed, with adequate amounts of soap.

Despite his habits regarding cleanliness, "Captain Hygiene" appears to have at least a modicum of success with the ladies.

Winter Morning

This morning I got out of bed and opened the shutters to let in sunlight. I was surprised to see snow covering the lawn, the front walk, the tree branches outside my window. I went outside to shovel the walk, went on to do the driveway, and then I stood and admired the view.

I saw nothing but white stillness for blocks. I was the only person shoveling snow. Unfortunately, I didn't have a camera. Could've taken some cool pictures.

Bar Exam

Last night I shaved the beard; it was time. This morning I'll shave again, and put on the black suit, and one of the conservative blue ties. I'll wear the black dress shoes ... the ones that I purchased after saying "I'm looking for a dress shoe. Black. Conservative." When I purchased them, I knew they were right because there was absolutely nothing trendy about them; they are part of a "corporate" uniform. They are the type of shoes which belong on the feet of a man wearing black, navy, or charcoal grey.

So today I'll look like a lawyer. And it will be the first time I've had that look for some weeks. I think I was avoiding that look for some reason. Not sure why. A while back, I met a friend for coffee, and when she saw me, she said "you look like a lawyer." And that upset me. I thought "I just want to look like Anson."

I'm sporting the dreaded "lawyer look" again because I'm going to a funeral. I'm likely to see a few old friends whom I haven't seen in years. They'll say things like, "I heard you're a lawyer now." And I'll say "Not yet, God willing I'll be one by this summer." The people who know me best will ask "How's studying going?" And I'll almost certainly lie and say "Good!" Or if I'm feeling concerned about honesty, I'll say "It's coming along."

I'm studying for the bar exam. For the second time. I haven't been able to put that in writing until this point. So there, I said it. I mean typed it. The whole thing is sort of a big deal in my mind. It's a two day exam, it's expensive, it's in another city. Testing conditions are rather uncomfortable (too hot or too cold), and you sit with hundreds of other people who are stressed out, and sort of cranky. And everybody knows that some people are going to fail. The last time I took it, there were a lot of personal obstacles: my mom was seriously ill, I had just gone through a breakup, I didn't have any money, etc. Now six months later, there are still a lot of personal obstacles, so ... I'm sort of regretting that I signed up for it again. Not really. I don't know.

Anyway, it's sort of hard to think/talk about. Some days I feel pretty overwhelmed. Not so much this morning. I feel tired, anxious, ready to crawl back into bed. But not exactly overwhelmed. I have the feeling I'll work hard today after I get home from the funeral (many days I don't work hard; I sort of think a lot about working hard, and then get exhausted).

And I won't bristle if someone happens to say I look like a lawyer. I believe this is evidence of some sort of progress.

Good News

I got a phone call last night. Some relatives are expecting. This means a brand new niece or nephew. I cast my vote for a nephew.

Huzzah!

On Knowing Another

Of late I've had more than one conversation about what it means to truly know another person. I received an email this morning which mentioned the issue. And I had a sort of pseudo-epiphany about the topic within the past few weeks. So, I guess that means the topic deserves a post. Here goes.

I suspect that one of the fundamental purposes for human existence is knowing another. Some wise Christian wrote that man's purpose is to "know God and enjoy Him forever." I think I agree. But what does it mean to know another human being? And does this knowing, this communion with another person(s) enable us to know God more fully? For me, the latter question seems easier to answer. I think the answer is "yes". Humans are social creatures; we can only know ourselves in relation to others. And how can one even begin to know God if he doesn't have an inkling about himself?

But back to knowing another human being. I spoke about this concept a couple of weeks ago to a friend. He expressed doubt as to whether he really knew his girlfriend, despite having been with her for years. I said, "You can't know everything about another person. Even after a lifetime, you still wouldn't know everything. And I'm not sure you'd want to. You'd want to still be discovering something."

Who can know me fully? Who would want to know me fully? What does knowing someone fully really mean?

I like to imagine that life-partners (what traditional religious folk call "spouses") come closest to knowing each other fully. I suspect a good mother can know her child fully, for a time at least. But in terms of adulthood, life-partners come closest to knowing each other fully. They share their thoughts, ideas, living space, bodies.

When a man knows a woman he is [becoming?] familiar with what CDs she owns, her spending habits, whether or not she likes tomatoes. He has some sort of understanding as to whether she is willing to kill big spiders, or hunt them down, and then do the whole "catch and release" thing. He grows acquainted with the smell of her hair (washed and unwashed), see how she flosses (or doesn't), and has a clue whether she likes to talk during. At some point it becomes clear to him whether she'll tolerate cigarette smoke, and whether she'll tolerate people who say unkind things about Arabs. He learns if she's a person who asks "Do I look fat?" or asks the more sophisticated (and dangerous) "Can you tell I've gained weight?" *FYI guys, those are the same damn question. Don't be a fool.*

But after knowing all those tidbits, and thousands of others, can the man rest assured that he knows her fully? Nope. Two reasons come to mind immediately. 1) She's a human being and human beings are very, very complex. 2) If she's a healthy person, she's continually growing and changing, and what may have been true six months or a year ago, may be obsolete info today. Oh look, I just though of another one ... 3) If he's a healthy person, he's continually growing and changing, and this will by necessity change at least some of his perceptions of her.

So where does this leave us? The life-partners, the two who can fully know each other, and hopefully experience the "mystical oneness" I mentioned a few posts back ... should they be discouraged? Eyes downcast? Weary? Anxious about possible missteps? No!

*slap*

Did you not catch the name of this blog? This leaves us with hopeful expectation. We can look forward to a never ending process of getting to know another. In so doing, we ourselves are pruned. Shaped and made stronger. More able to have meaningful relationships with ourselves, and with God.

I think this phenomenon exists in all healthy human relationships. I believe the relationship between partners is where it is most clearly observed, and in its most acute form.

Fridays

Hey. Thanks for visiting. I'm glad people read this blog.

Anyhow, I'm sitting at my desk enjoying silence and a glass of ice cold Coca-Cola. Today was a good day in that it was busy, but not too busy. I got up fairly early, studied a bit, worked a bit. I had four double cheeseburgers and an order of fried clams for lunch. White Castle. Yeah, it was disgusting; I couldn't finish it. Then, I went to my favorite comic book store, and browsed. Right when I thought I wouldn't be able to find anything, I saw ... a new copy of ElfQuest by Wendy and Richard Pini! Issue 1 of 4, titled "The Discovery". ElfQuest was the first comic I ever purchased as a kid (at least as far as I can remember). Kinda corny but hey, it's got sentimental value, and the concept is pretty interesting. Apparently, they're selling fast because one of the guys at the counter asked "Is that the last one?". It was actually the second to last.

Drove back to the house, studied some more, and then had dinner with EG at Famous Dave's Barbecue. He told me RK and AG are both engaged. RK's met his fiancee on eHarmony, and AG met his fiancee at work. EG gives both ladies a "thumbs up".

It was a good Friday. I think most of my Fridays are good. In fact, last Friday was great. It's truly my favorite day of the week. No work/school the next day. Everybody at work/school is in a good mood because they've got plans for the weekend. Movies often come out on Fridays, and if you give people notice, they're almost always willing to do something on Friday night. It's just an all around great day.

Panic, Thoughtfulness, and Tact

I have a bunch of things I could write about tonight, but I'm having difficulty making a decision. Some topics are a little too complicated; I don't have the energy right now. Still others are not quite ripe for sharing. Writing about any of the topics could mean a long post, and one has to be in the mood for that sort of thing.

I had a number of interesting conversations today. One guy told me about having a panic attack earlier this week. Another told me I was a "very thoughtful black man" and that he hoped I didn't intend to practice law. I guess lawyers aren't supposed to be thoughtful. Anyway, the panic stricken one felt that having panic attacks indicates a lack of mental health, and seemed somewhat embarassed. I told him there was nothing to be embarassed about, and that everyone close to him understood. He is a thoughtful (i.e. introspective) person, and a lawyer ... is this a lethal combination which leads to panic attacks?

The tactful one (you know, the one who remarked that I'm black) meant no harm. I've noticed he says what he thinks, and when it doesn't sound right, he tries to explain. That usually doesn't help too much, but I appreciate the fact that he tries. He seems lonely, and expresses a great deal of enthusiasm when meeting people. A little too much maybe. I think this rubs some people the wrong way.

"Scalito"

The Honorable Samuel Alito sat before the Senate Judiciary Committee today and answered questions. He is called "Scalito" by some because he seems to embrace the jurisprudence of conservative Justice Antonin Scalia. My guess is that most observers expected "friendly" questions from Republican Senators, and "hostile" questions from Democratic Senators.

But it's more complicated than that. Senators are highly intelligent, articulate, motivated people. When they make statements (or in this case, ask questions) they intend to send very clear messages to friend and foe alike. Their utterances are recorded, parsed, relayed, and ultimately show up again twenty years later to determine someone's political destiny.

I don't think there's anything Judge Alito could say that would make Ted Kennedy vote for his confirmation. So why does the Senator from Massachusetts bother to ask questions? Well, it's his job. But beyond that, his questions, his tone of voice, his commentary that he inserts before asking the actual question ... these all send messages to constituents and lobbying groups. They need to know that the Senator will continue to look after them as he has been doing for so many years. And the opposition needs to know that he is a force, an opponent not easily cast aside.

Similarly, I don't think there's anything Judge Alito could say that would make Lindsey Graham vote against his confirmation. But Senator Graham used the cross-examination method of questioning. He asked leading questions, and actually seemed somewhat hostile toward Scalito. He even interrupted him, and said in a rather severe tone "I disagree" as Scalito attempted to answer a question. He asked a few questions like "Are you aware of any case where U.S. forces were required to release enemy combatants before a conflict ended?" and "Do you agree that our nation has been continuously engaged in armed conflict with terrorists since 9/11?"

The leading questions gave me pause. Especially the one about whether "enemy combatants have rights under our constitution". I honestly don't know what an "enemy combatant" is (or what body has the authority to define the term). I think it's a combatant acting without the express authorization of a nation/state. I think then they'd have to say "military personnel" or "soldier" and we'd get all wrapped up with the Geneva Convention and whether or not torture is allowed. But last I heard, they were debating over the definition of "torture" as well. The NGOs seem to think it's one thing, and governments who practice it seem to think it's something else ... far, far worse than anything they do.

But back to Senator Graham's line of questioning. Maybe I'm too much of a conspiracy theorist, but typically cross-examination is used for a hostile witness. The leading questions are used to get that person to say exactly what you want them to say. I think Senator Graham asked particular questions, and phrased them in a such a way as to give the impression that holding persons for indefinite periods of time without charging them is okay, because we are in "a state of war" and the Constitution does not protect "enemy combatants". And his severe tone with Judge Alito was proof that he wasn't going easy on him. We are to accept the questions at face value.

Sorry ... I can't. Just like I can't accept the notion that there's nothing wrong with Michael Jackson. The people who listen intently to the Senate Judiciary Committee's questions, and accept them at face value, are the same sort of folks that let their kids go to slumber parties at Neverland. Either they have lost their minds, or they are highly, highly, unethical.

I just hope Scalito remembers to be just after he's confirmed. And don't give me any yick-yack like "it's not about doing justice, it's about properly interpreting the Constitution". Don't gimme that sullbhit!! The Constitution is only valuable inasmuch as it allows justice to be served. Freedom of Speech, Separation of Church and State, Separation of Powers ... they all mean nothing without the underlying concept of justice.

Good night, and good luck.

Four Special People

These are some relatives from out west. During their last visit, the oldest two allowed me to play a video game with them, but I was promptly told "you're not doing it right." They are very knowledgeable about dinosaurs, helicopters, rocks, seeds, and action figures.

An Old Photograph

Photo of my mother (c. 1950). She's about fourteen years old in this picture. The inscription reads "Because I love you." She cannot remember to whom it was addressed, but thinks it may have been my grandfather. This photo was in a relative's photo album; now it sits in a frame on my desk.

A Daily Ritual

I've forsaken a daily ritual for about a week. My last shave was six or seven days ago, and my face itches. But I think I'll let the beard grow. I've been back and forth about it lately. Especially now that it's in that "awkward stage". Stubbly, itchy, downright uncomfortable. And I think it sort of makes me look a little unkempt.

My father's facial hair was thick, thick, thick. Toward the end of his life, the hair on his chin and lower cheeks was white. My mom had asked him to grow a beard. He refused ... said it was too uncomfortable. She was so enthusiastic about the idea because she'd seen him with a short beard once when he was bedridden from an illness. She thought he looked "soooo handsome" with a beard. I was always curious to see what he looked like with a beard. Ultimately, the two of us sort of ganged up on him, and begged him not to shave.

I think we got him to abstain from shaving for about a week. Maybe a little longer. That's when I saw the thick white stubble. It reminded me of those older, tougher heroes in westerns. The guys who are old, but not ... elderly. Still strong enough to crack open the can o' whip-ass when folks get out of line. Dad shaved it off. He said, "I'm sorry. I just can't stand it, my face is so uncomfortable."

My beard isn't as thick. One of my brothers has a nice, full beard. Another brother has hardly any hair on his face at all. I'm somewhere in the middle. I seriously doubt it will grow any fuller with age; at 30, I'm just about done with puberty. And about eight months ago, I found a gray hair on my chin. A couple of weeks ago, I saw that another is beginning to turn gray. Maybe I'll be fortunate ... maybe the beard will turn white as I age.

The last time I wore a beard, it received mixed reviews. My sister strongly dislikes it. Mom seems to like it, but seems a little saddened that it makes me look older. A couple of ladies at work gave me compliments. A couple of ladies from school asked me to shave it. One buddy of mine said "Dude, what's with the terrorist look?" All this feedback came after I'd had weeks to let it grow out. I think at this early stage, I don't look so much like I'm growing a beard. I look more like ... I'm not shaving.

*sigh*

Yeah, that's a good way to describe it. When a man has thick facial hair, and he stops shaving, people ask "Oh, you're letting the beard grow, huh?" When you don't have thick facial hair, people ask, "How come you're not shaving?" It's a tough row to hoe y'all. Tough.

Well, however we choose to characterize this little project of mine, I ain't shaving. I'm tired of the daily ritual. The razor burn. The switching to electric instead of disposable. Shaving for ten minutes, and then looking in my rear-view mirror to find that I still missed a spot. And don't get me started on the ingrown hairs! So ... I'm done shaving for a bit. My face needs a break. And it's cold in Michigan during the winter. So the yeas have it; we're growing the beard. Or not shaving, if you prefer.

The Lord of the Rings

In January 1979, I served as ring bearer in my big sister's wedding. I cried because some guys named Frodo and Sam kept trying to take my precious away from us. Filthy, nasty, hobbitses!!

Mystical Formulas

This afternoon, I went through some old emails. I found one I wrote about the traditional Christian understanding of marriage. Included were two "equations" that I felt illustrated a mystical truth.

a) Christ = Head = Husband = Male
b) Church = Body = Bride = Female

The two can be understood as working in tandem to illustrate spiritual truths being made manifest via the marital relationship. Christian marriage is a picture (would my Orthodox friends say 'icon'?) of the relationship between Christ and His Bride, His very Body, the Church. Viewing it this way forces talk of headship and submission. It cannot be avoided if the analogy is true. This is an unpopular view, and with good reason. It falls far short of explaining a profound mystery (not that humans can really explain such things, but we can try).

This is the most narrow definition of marriage I have encountered: a lifelong, monogamous, heterosexual relationship, with a hierarchical structure thrown in for good measure. Are people who embrace this view sexist? Are they homophobic? Sure, some of them. But others see a burden of chastity (not to be confused with celibacy) equally shared by all: married, single, gay, straight, male, and female. In other words, they believe Christians who are not married must abstain from what is appropriately called the "marital act." And I think the more thoughtful ones understand headship and submission to be attitudes that operate within the context of a oneness that defies logic; two become one, and yet each retains individuality. I suspect husbands can only exercise a healthy "headship" when they serve as primus inter pares, mustering all the courage they can to figure out what the hell it means to be "first among equals" when there can be no majority vote. Marriage is, after all, a partnership of two.

I don't know. I really don't. I'm a bachelor with old sweaters and far too many books. No cats though ... yet.

A Little Family History

Undated photo of my father and grandfather. The taller gentleman on the right is my grandfather. If you look closely, you'll notice he only has one hand. The other was amputated after a hunting accident when he was about 12 years old (c. 1910). At least one of his grandparents was a white slaveholder from Giles County, TN. Hence the pale skin.