The rhythm is gonna get you

It was to my delight that in 8th grade our school announce a lip sync contest to be held. After seeing the film "Flashdance" I had become obsessed with the idea of becoming a fantastic dancer. Every night after dinner, I would blockade myself into the basement and dance for an hour or two. My commitment would not be challenged and the lip sync show was the perfect opportunity to show the world the benefit of the hours and hours of serious practice. I was ready.
I asked my bf to compete with me. I choose the song " The rhythm is gonna get you" by Miami Sound machine. I choreographed the whole extravagansa and practiced every waking moment. My bf only went over a few steps and was convinced she "Had it down cold".
The night of the Lip Sync arrrived. I dress in as many satiny articles as possible, teased my hair to it's largest and set out to the show with my vinyl (yes a record) album under my arm.
I paced back stage waiting for my bf to arrive. Finally she does, but says she can't dance with me ---she's too scared! (Mind you this is a girl that could drink anyone under the table due to her practice in parting - but dancin' before a group of her peers was pushing the envelope.)
There was only one thing I could do. I was most likely inspired by underdog films of the day like "Flashdance, Breakfast Club, and The Goonies". I handed the sound guy my album and marched up to center stage.
As the music began, the curtain pulled apart and I suddenly realised that the sound guy had set the player to the wrong speed. So there I was trying to dance in slow motion to the Miami Sound Machine. My peers started to laugh.
Trying to keep my cool, I ran down to the pit - corrected the speed and asked the sound guy to start over.
In the two seconds before the music started and I was dramatically turning to face my audience determined to show them my stuff. A rather rude young man shouted, "Fat A**!" from the back of the packed school auditorium. He was one of those teenage boys that would snap your bra while sitting behind you in Spanish Class.
The crowed laughed louder.
I turned red, fumbled through the routine and ran backstage afterward only to find my bf laughing at me too. I then began to cry....

So much for loyalty. Funny thing too, a few months later the nasty boy asked me out and how crazy I said yes?!!! I supposed his rude comment was his pubesent way of saying - "I think you're cute."
The romance (if you can call it that) didn't last, my old bf and I are ok with each other now and I'm still prone to dance around my kitchen if "The rhythm is gonna get you" come on the radio. But I think that the kitchen is where I''ll dance... there are no erring soundmen there.
Watch out for the rhythm - sometimes it really "get's" you.

Travel Far Enough Left or Right and You End Up in a Big Circle

I think it was comedian Lewis Black who once did a bit about the ACLU having the worst public relations of any organization. They always waited until Christmas to get press and it was always related to shutting down a manger display.

This year the Christmas -- er, Christian Right seem to be following the same kind of public relations plan with the whole "Merry Christmas" vs. "Happy Holidays" thing. I'm a Christian and I've never taken the phrase Happy Holidays to mean anything other than what it means: be excessively happy for a few weeks.

Isn't Merry Christmas really saying the same thing? Merry and happy pretty much imply the same thing to me, and Christmas is really the period from Dec. 24 to Jan. 6 if you want to be totally retentive about it.

My heartful wish this Christmas is that the left and the right would just shut up and let the rest of us (i.e. normal people) enjoy the next few weeks in peace!

Quote of the Day: Grace

"You say grace before meals. All right. But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing and grace before I dip the pen in the ink."
-- G.K. Chesterton

Grad School

I've been seriously considering graduate school since 2003. My original intention was to pursue a humanities degree immediately upon my graduating with my bachelors. I'm interested in so many different things, and I found an ideal humanities program with a little bit of philosophy, literature, and history. But a snafu with my degree (I was one credit short) pushed my graduation back a few weeks so I couldn't get my application into grad school by the required date.

2004 was a year of transition for Lamont and I. We considered digging our heels in at Gen-Next. We seriously considered Salvation Army training college. In the end, we went job hunting. Although I wanted to enroll in grad school, building a new future had to take priority.

I also began to explore different programs -- creative writing, leadership, youth development, and communications. A few months ago I found a school which offers a MA in Spiritual Formation and am very much drawn to it.

I do wrestle with a lot of questions: Do I want to go into debt with my 38th birthday right around the corner? Am I taking a personal interest (spiritual formation) too far? What does a person do with a degree like this? But I've decided to call the admissions office tomorrow and start the enrollment process.

I look at it like this: everybody has a spark, something that really ignites life for them. For me that spark is spiritual formation. I can make that spark burn brighter or I let it go out because of neglect. I'm choosing the spark.

Drink

thirsty people

but I am a stagnant pool
still and cloudy
with no life

sensing a presence
which may very well be a mirage
I am stirred

a clear flow bubbles up
pushing away the muck and dirt
life springs forth from deep within

come and drink

Seven Storeys of Separation

My boss seems to know everyone and I often rib him about it. He claims that I'm exaggerating, but I'm not so sure. Today we were discussing favorite books and I brought up the title New Seeds of Contemplation. He got a big smile on his face and said, "When I was in my twenties I had the good fortune to go on a two week retreat with Thomas Merton..."

An Old Fart's Musings About Today's Culture

I noticed that it's been almost a week since I last posted. Well, that's December for you! Between church events, bellringing, office parties, Christmas parades, shopping, school, and kids with the flu, Lamont and I can barely keep up with the pace of life, let alone carve out time to blog about it.

My son's cough seems to be getting worse, so I elected to sit out church this morning so he could stay home and rest. He's under a layer of blankets in the living room watching The Kids Next Door. I'm in the dining room tapping away at the keyboard whilst listening to Morrissey. Here are a few things I've been trying to process lately:

#1. R. Kelly's Trapped in a Closet. This song is making all the entertainment media's "best of" lists for 2005 and I can't figure out why. The first time I caught the song on TV I thought it was a really authentic parody of urban pop. I honestly expected Weird Al to pop out of the closet at the end. I still can't hear the song without laughing hysterically. Why is this song such a phenomenon? Put it back in the closet I say!

#2. Hot Topic Stores. Punk -- now manufactured for the masses!!! Going to the mall to buy pre-ripped jeans is just so wrong. Sid Vicious is rolling over in his grave right now.

#3. Hot Topic Stores -- Part Two. Honey, I appreciate the fact that you don't buy into the whole Britney, Jessica, or Christina pop-princess thing. But why do you think that wearing a dog collar is a more positive statement?

#4. The Emerging Church. It's all about authenticity, being real, and living out one's faith, right? I can't help but get a chuckle about the Emerging Church's worship of media, The Chronicles of Narnia being the latest obsession. Hello people -- this isn't any different from your parents' admiration of Anita Bryant, Pat Boone, Dean Jones, or any other Christian media connection of years past. Enjoy the movie, but don't think for a minute that the media machine can legitimize your faith and share it with the masses. That's your job.

#5. Coca-Cola, Inc. First they killed Josta, the best soft drink ever. At the end of the month they're going to do the same to my much-beloved Vanilla Coke. This is one consumer not singing in perfect harmony. So there!

Television Obscurities

I can't believe I've never come across this site, which has been around since 2003. For a TV nerd like me, Television Obscurities is kind of like finding the Holy Grail. It's chock full of Real Video clips of television programs you won't find anywhere else. Bill "Batman" Doziers' unaired Dick Tracy TV pilot? It's in there! Star Trek bloopers? Check! The promotional film introducing Batgirl to the execs at ABC? Got it! If you're at all interested in pop culture or TV trivia, put down that remote and point your web browser to Television Obscurities.

Happy birthdays and babies

I love birthday parties - especially my own kids' parties. You (the parent) get to be a kid as you look for toys, bake birthday goodies (this time my little guy wanted brownies, ice cream and hot fudge for his "cake"), and watch the grand unwrapping of the wonderful stuff they receive. We usually have too much pizza, chips and soda and get that warm,drowsy over sugared feeling and catch a few ZZZ's after all the excitement. It was even better cause I held my great nephew while we both dosed. He would make a wonderful baby noise every once in a while and I would kiss his little fuzzy head. What a great birthday.. and it wasn't even mine.

Tiny tims needed - ASAP

I stood outside for about 3 hours tonight ringing a bell while collecting for the Salvation Army during our local towns Christmas parade and walk. Most people gave donations and smiled, but I was a little bothered by the gloomy number of folks that looked annoyed when wished a Merry Christmas. I even had on person tell me to "Shut up" while singing Jingle Bells. Wow. I didn't expect so many bah humbugs.

I sang louder.

I think I'll remember the little boy who toddled up to me - too young to talk and was perplexed by the gold bell I was ringing. His kind Daddy waited for him to shyly stare at the kettle of change and bills and focus in on the shiny metal bell I was ringing. I held it out to his thumbless mittened hand and he happily tapped the bell a few times and smiled as big as the whole world.

Some teenagers came up to me and started singing along. When I asked them to join us..they did and sang along for about 30 minutes in the freezing wind and snow.

A grandmother and grandaughter were taking in the event and the girl asked her grandma what we were doing ringing bells. She simply said, "That's the Salvation Army." She gently explained that the money we were collecting helped needy families and gave her a few dollars to place into our snow covered kettle.

I know that the bah humbugs are around - but thanks to all the tiny tims and tinas out there that made standing in the cold a bit warmer.

Pizza on Earth!

I was teaching a group of young children last night about being peacemakers. I went around the circle of k and first graders and asked "What is a way you can be a peacemaker?"
Some said things like, "No hitting my brother when he makes me mad." or "Share my favorite toy...". The most unusual reply came from a toe-haired 6 year-old boy. After I asked him how he could be a peacemaker he simply retorted... "Make a pizza."
I was puzzled with his answer and asked him how making pizza could help make peace.
"Well easy," he said, "pizza makers always make pizza."
Afer laughing (as politely as I could)at his reply, I suggested that maybe that making a pizza for someone and making the words "I'm sorry" with pepperoni would be a great idea. All the kids shouted "Yes!"
The lesson was saved...the kids were happy that their answers were accepted...and I smile everytime I see the the seasonal phrase "Peace on Earth! Maybe Pizza on Earth would help too...

You're the ONE

Today is aids world awareness day...go to this website and sign the petition to gain support for people most suffing from the effects of this disease.
Peace,
Lamont

onecampaign.org

Burning the Midnight Oil

It's 2:18 am and I'm sitting at my iBook eating fried chicken. I just can't fall asleep tonight, so websurfing and raiding the fridge seem to be my best options. The peace and quiet is doing my imagination good -- I came up with a great new slogan for work and found a way to tweak a logo that's 90% of the way there. Maybe I should pull a late-nighter more often...

Love Song

I just finished today's readings in Celtic Daily Prayer. I was particularly moved by today's psalm. When so many people insist on reading the Bible like it's an instruction manual, it's important be reminded that it's quite a beautiful piece of literature:

"How priceless is your unfailing love!
Both high and low among men
find refuge in the shadow of your wings.

"They feast on the abundance of your house;
you give them drink from your river of delights.

"For with you is the fountain of life;
in your light we see light."

Psalm 36:7-9 (New International Version)

Half a loaf is better than none

Transplanted in the depths of my heart lies a hope for South Africa. Many times I heard missionaries speak about the colorful characteristics of this land. I even remember a young blond missionary girl coming to my school when I was in third grade. She showed us dazzling sarongs, ivory hand-carved animals and told us stories that drew my initial interest, but mostly because we were excused from math class in order to give her time to visit with our class. After a few minutes of storytelling and introductions, she opened her guitar case and started to sing.

The actual song and tune, I can’t remember. But the exact moment she started singing still plays like an old movie in the memory banks of my mind.

She had a look of such homesickness and love on her face as she sung about the beautiful people and places of South Africa. Her love for the county and its people planted a seed in my own heart. It was probably around 1979 or 1980 when she came to visit our little school in the hills of western Pennsylvania. Apartheid was never something she mentioned to us. Even if she had, I doubt if we would have been able to understand the wretchedness that went along with it. My innocent eyes had never seen, or have seen in my own life, the kinds violence and mindless limitation that apartheid placed upon so many South African’s lives. It was an American woman’ s song that called my heart towards South Africa, but it was a South African woman’s song that captured my heart.


*“Senzeni Na?
What have we done?

Sibozwa Nje?
To be so oppressed?

Sono sethu uba myama?
Are our crimes/sins that heinous?

Amabuna a yi zinja.
White policemen are dogs/unfeeling.

Vophu mthwala sigoduke.
Lets bear the burden of this life;
We haven’t far to go.”




*Sung a cappella and each line is repeated four times.
South African protest song from the 1980’s, sung by anti-apartheid demonstrators (p.16)


Miriam Mathabane grew up in South Africa during the dissolution of the Apartheid movement. Between the years of 1974 and 1993, Miriam grew up in Alexandria, South Africa. Bantu education (segregated black education) only served to teach the black children of South Africa the skills necessary to serving the European population of South Africa. Students learned a great deal about domestic science, sewing and gardening but were taught very little world history, biology and higher-level courses.
Previous to Bantu Education, there were a greater number of black teachers employed by primary schools. Before Apartheid, children’s education was performed by mission and church organizations and was proud to encourage all their students to learn and become successful members of society.

The government of South Africa enforced Bantu education because their leaders felt the mission and church schools were teaching subjects unnecessary to the black students. Dr. Verwoerd, the creator of Bantu Education said, “ I will have control of the native education. I will reform it so that natives will be taught from childhood to realize that equality with Europeans is not for them. There is no place for him (black child) in European society above the level of certain forms of labor…(pg 18)”
Instead of building up the individual student in order to produce doctors, lawyers and teachers; the Bantu system controlled the black population by limiting the depth and content of their education. Bantu education paralyzed independent spirit through bullying and physical punishment of students by Bantu teachers. Fear and terror were the earliest teachers of young Bantu students like Miriam Mathabane.

The early years of Miriam’s education revolved around the struggle of poverty and the affects of it upon an individual’s ability to learn. Cleanliness was a primary concern of Bantu instructors for their students. Hair must be combed, uniforms must be neat and clean, and fingernails must be trimmed neatly. The reality of poverty meant that Miriam’s family couldn’t afford the items necessary for her to arrive at school in proper attire or cleanliness. Students were beaten on a daily basis for arriving at school with their hair uncombed, nails untrimmed or bloomers torn. Children often fainted during classes due to lack of food for breakfast at home and lack of two rand that was necessary to purchase a peanut butter sandwich and watery skim powder milk for lunch. Miriam’s family added to the tension of pursuing an education, as her mother insisted she go because it was the only way to legally work someday when she was grown. Miriam’s father resented that the little money he did earn was spent on school supplies and hand me down uniform jumpers. The basics like running water, electricity and sewer systems were unattainable resources that were only repeated by the more basic needs of the day: food, water and evading neighborhood raids by the white police.
Random but regular raids were held in Alexandria to seek out and arrest blacks that did not have the proper documentation to be living and working in “White” South Africa. Miriam developed a great fear and hatred of white policemen as they regularly broke into her family’s two-room rented shack and arrested and beat up her parents for not carrying the proper documents to live in that city.

Consistent family supporting work was almost impossible for blacks to find in South Africa. It was necessary for all workers to carry a passbook and papers to be allowed to work in “white” South Africa. If a person did not have a job, they could not have papers. If they lost their job, they would be imprisoned. If they were imprisoned for not having papers in order, they would be dismissed from they job. If a person was discovered working in “white” South Africa without papers, they would be arrested and sent outside of the territory into “black” South Africa where there was no work and increased poverty.

European legislators placed impossible standards upon black South Africans, in order to ensure economic controls upon the parents and educational controls upon their children. Legislators thought that by limiting work and education, they would be guaranteed a dependent working class population with no hope for the future. When individuals like Steven Biko, Bishop Tutu or Nelson Mandela would speak out against Apartheid in order to give black South African’s hope: the government would arrest, imprison or kill such revolutionaries. Riots and violence were the result of the people’s hopes for freedom being lifted and dashed throughout the reign of Apartheid.

Even through all the hardships of Miriam’s life, she and her siblings fight to stay in school. Mama, a devout Christian prays for jobs for herself and her husband. Mama prays that her children stay in school and for her husband to stop drinking and gambling away his pay. Papa demands he wear the pants in the family and resists his wife’s Christian beliefs. He prefers to follow his tribal religion. Religious differences only add to the level of tension in Miriam’s household.

Johannes, her older brother, dedicated himself to school work, reading and tennis in hopes that someday he would come to the United States, go to university and buy a new home for his family in South Africa. People could not understand why a young South African man would want to read and speak English, play tennis and befriend whites. People thought that Johannes wanted to be white. Johannes was tormented by his peers and father because the traditional role of the eldest boy was to go to work as young as he could to help support his family. Johannes determination for earning his education made him a joke to the macho inhabitants of the ghetto of Alexandria.

The only people that seemed to understand Johannes intentions were his teachers, his mother, Miriam and eventually a college in South Carolina. Shortly after graduating from high school in Alexandria; Johannes started working in a bank and earned ten times the salary of his mother and father put together. He paid for his one sister to attend sewing school, all his siblings’ tuition and supplies for school, rent and groceries. Miriam was happy and dreams of becoming a nurse someday. Her hope of earning her education is fueled by Johannes’s success in school. Johannes seemed to be the savior of the family after all.

Johannes hard work and dreams are rewarded when he receives a letter from the United States, inviting him to attend a South Carolina University on a full tennis scholarship. He urges the family to speak to no one concerning his opportunity for fear of government interference and promises to send letters and money when he arrives in America. The birth of Johannes’s dream brings pressure from the community for all of Mama’s children to become the smartest, most accomplished children in Alexandria. But now that Johannes is gone to America, so are the material resources that made excelling in school possible. The burdens of poverty return to their home; making health care, income for family needs and the esteem of their community fade away from their lives. The specter of hope rarely shows itself through rare letters and small amounts of money sent from America. Johannes promises of supporting his sibling’s education are enough to keep Miriam in school, but the challenges of her daily life begin to slow and delay her educational progress.

Innocence is a quality that is quickly lost to the children of South Africa. Gambling causes parents to risk their small salaries in hopes of “making it big”. Parents overcome by depression and hunger drink away their incomes in order to dull their pain. The filth of the ghetto becomes worse as giant rats invade the neighborhood, drawn by the stench of open drains and raw sewage running throughout the ghetto. The rats bring disease to the already polluted community and attack children as they sleep on the floor of their two room shacks. While sleeping, rats chew the bottom of Miriam’s feet until they are raw and have to be wrapped in rags so she can continue to attend school. Miriam hates these bullies that attack her, but the human bullies cause her more conflict as she had been taught to always, “Turn the other cheek.” Only after speaking to he street-smart uncle does she grasp the necessity to protect herself. “Be like Christ in most things, but never allow people to walk all over you…Jesus never lived in Alexandria… you do.”(p. 129)

Bullies in Miriam’s world take on many appearances. Papa insists that Miriam and her siblings switch the language they are taking in school to his home dialect – Venda. She only has one year of primary school left, but she has to adapt her entire language in order to boost her father’s ego. Miriam passes her exams even with the added challenge. Miriam’s ability to be a hard worker, to submit to authority and be obedient challenges the necessity of self-defense against the bullies in her life. Everyone else seems so street-smart, she’s book-smart but wonders what will serve her survival the best. After five years, Johannes contacts the family and has sold his first book in America. He promises to pay for his siblings’ college costs with the proceeds he earns and Miriam’s hope in education is restored by Johannes’s promise, and she rededicates herself to her studies.

Escape from the ghetto and the violence of Apartheid was a luxury few residents were afforded. Miriam visits her Father’s homeland of Venda and is overwhelmed by the beauty of the remote area. Food is plentiful, she sleeps on a bed for the first time in her life and education and housing are offered to her if she only agrees to stay and help in her relative’s household. The offer of a new life is one many ghetto children would jump at, but Miriam’s devotion to her mother and homeland bully her back into a life of meager existence in Alexandria.

Political tensions in South Africa have continued to grow as Bishop Tutu is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his peaceful efforts against Apartheid. Miriam begins attending standard seven at Alexandria High School. Miss Jones, the school principal agrees that Bantu education is not the best, but encourages the students that, “ half a loaf, is better than nothing (p. 175)”. For six months, marches and demonstrations take place in the township of Alexandria, but the peaceful environment of Miriam’s safe school is rocked by shouting Comrades demanding the students join the cause or become labeled as traitors. People that refuse to participate in demonstrations are tortured by being necklaced: placing petrol soaked tire over the person’s head and shoulders and igniting the tire. Police retaliate against the Comrades with tear gas, beatings and shootings. Schools are closed in hopes of easing tensions. Tensions continue to grow as the white police, soldiers and various rebel groups scramble to control the actions of young black students. If a student wouldn’t participate in the demonstrations, they would be neckleced. If they were pressured into marching or attending night vigils for the cause, they ran the risk of being killed, injured, or arrested because of their participation.

Education was held captive to the cause of anti-apartheid. Exams were delayed or cancelled causing many students to fall further behind. Young girls were under more pressure to marry young during these lapses in school, because the dowry money was needed to support their struggling family. If the girls did not wed, many were violently raped and either contracted STD’s or became pregnant. After the rapes, men continued to pursue relationships with the girls in hopes that they would then marry them. This generation of South African children grew up with extreme violence. People often criticize their means of breaking down Apartheid, but violence begets violence. These children were witness and recipients of violence throughout their childhood, being subjected to beatings by parents, teachers and police. How would it be possible for them to act out and understand peaceful demonstration, if they had never seen or experienced personally.
In 1989, Nelson Mandela is released from prison and the celebrations in South Africa rock the townships. Unfortunately, shortly after his release the riots and shootings return and overtake the ghettos. Miriam’s schooling has been delayed by the political unrest in the past, but the personal unrest she is yet to experience places a next to impossible road block in her way.

Miriam meets Sabelo, a seemingly gentle, kindly young man and he accompanies her to vigils and occasional soccer games. One evening when a vigil turns to violence, Miriam agrees to go to Sabelo’s flat to find cover from the tear gas and gunfire. He gives her his bed and goes out to sleep in the living area, but in the midst of the far-away gunfire and the small hours of the night Sabelo forces himself upon Miriam. He rapes her, takes her virginity and steals away the moment of safety and peace she thought was hers. Miriam thinks, “If I’m pregnant my future is ruined (p. 227).”

Miriam’s fear of pregnancy, the delay of her education and disappointing her family are issues she is forced to deal with as she finds herself pregnant after Sabelo’s rape. The young women in this time and place are surrounded with crisis and violence and stay in relationships with the men that assault and rape them. Sabelo begs for forgiveness and promises to provide for his child. He desires to marry Miriam, but she refuses knowing that her education will never be completed if she marries so young.

The birth of her son in 1989, Sibusiso (meaning a gift from God), helps her to personally understand the limitations of becoming a single young mother in South Africa and reveals further evils of Apartheid. Miriam misses her exams, and her family’s first trip to the United States – provided by the success of Johannes first book. Her younger siblings go to America with her Mama and are able to stay in the states to attend school there. Had she never met Sabelo, she too would have been able to go to America and go to school.

The Black hospitals is overcrowded, dirty and understaffed. Miriam labors for her son in a crowed room filled with several women in advanced labor. One nurse tries to assist the pregnant women, but the complications and number of patients is too much for her to handle. One woman’s child is stillborn, another’s baby is born feet first damaging the mother in the birthing process, Miriam’s baby is healthy but big and causes Miriam to tear and bleed heavily. The nurses try to stitch her up, but they have to move her to another hospital for a specialist to suture her injuries about tens hours after giving birth. Miriam and Sibusiso are release the next day regardless of their condition as the bed are needed for other pregnant women. The conditions of the black hospital refuel Miriam’s desire to become a nurse. She is horrified by the animal-like conditions she experienced in the black hospital, while the white hospitals and staff stand waiting for patients to serve. Hospitals, places that should be used to help and heal, are death houses where the evil hand of Apartheid controls and suffocates the beginnings of each black child’s and mother’s life.

Miriam’s is lucky that her son is healthy and she regains her strength over a short time of recovery. She is seen as a good mother because she is healthy and her son is gaining weight and becoming stronger. Other women that have sickly children usually give up on clinic visits, as they are embarrassed as being seen as bad mothers. After the birth of Sibusiso, Sabelo is proud of his son and again asks for Miriam to marry him. By 1990 Miriam is much older than most of the students in Standard 8 but she refuses Sabelo and goes back to school. Violence again disrupts the school schedule, and Miriam is forced to repeat Standard 8. Sabelo becomes more and more frustrated by Miriam’s refusal of marriage and starts drinking to drown his disappointment. Sabelo forces Miriam to attend a party with him where she is almost raped returning home. She avoids Sabelo as much as she can, but the money and baby supplies he provides help to keep her baby healthy, so she allows the father limited access to her life. The little room she allows Sabelo to have in her life turns to disaster as one night in a drunken rage he beats her so terribly that her eyes swell shut. After he sobers up, he weeps at what he’s done to her and takes her back to his flat. Miriam wants to go home and take care of her son, but Sabelo is afraid to let her family see what he’s done to her. After being locked in to Sabelo’s apartment, Miriam begs to be released as her final exams are the next day but Sabelo refuses. She misses the exam, because of the beating and kidnapping and all her hard work is wasted, as she can’t retake the exam. She will have to repeat Standard 8 again.

It is fall of 1992 before Miriam Mathabane completes school in the Bantu system. The year she graduates is the first year her five-year-old son starts attending Standard 1. It has taken a total of seventeen years for her to graduate through a system that should have only taken ten. The promises of her brother Johannes of coming to America to further her education are about to come true for her and her young son. One day on returning from school, Sibusiso asks his mother if the schoolmistress in America beat the children for being tardy. “ No Sibusiso, no my child. Not in America (pg.305).”

Miriam Mathabane survived the poverty, riots, domestic violence, rape, beatings, continual disappointments, single motherhood and the fall of Apartheid. Her simple request of America was… “ I’m determined to achieve my dream of becoming a nurse. All I ask from America is the opportunity to do so. (p. 315)”. Miss Jones’s statement that …“ half a loaf is better than nothing (p. 175)” kept Miriam’s hope in education alive throughout her most challenging years in the Bantu education system. After coming to America in 1993, Ms. Mathabane gained freedom from many of the bullies that deferred, but never defeated her passion for her dream of becoming a nurse. She was free of violence, abuse and the suffocating grip of Apartheid and she followed thru with her promise and became a nurse shortly after moving to the United States.

After listening to the conflict, tension and melody of Miriam’s story, I find myself wondering what she and her family are doing today. I hope that she is happy and fulfilled in her work and that her son appreciates everything she has done by giving him a new life in America. Apartheid is no longer in effect in South Africa, but part of me wonders what happens to a generation of children that know nothing but violence, riots and defeat. Miriam’s spirit was not defeated by Apartheid, she was able to carry on and live in pursuit of her dreams, in spite of impossible circumstances. Half a loaf was enough for Miriam to make her dreams come true. I hope that each South African touched by the reach of Apartheid can have a song like Miriam. I hope they sing it like Miriam did, because we all need to hear it.

My life has had nary the struggle that Miriam’s has. I was an innocent child when I first heard of South Africa, and frankly I still am. I’ve never been beaten, raped or lived in poverty like she has. I have had so much given to me, and I give up on dreams too easily. If there is one thing learned from Miriam’s Song, it’s that I need to find my voice, dream my dream and never let it go, because “half a loaf, is better than none (p.175)”.

Book Information:
Miriam’s Song a Memoir by: Miriam Mathabane
As told by Mark Mathabane
Copyright 2000/Simon and Schuster
Rockefeller Center
1230 Ave, of the Americas
New York, NY 10020

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year?

I really detest the way that Black Friday follows so closely on the heels of Thanksgiving Day. The dishes at my gathering weren't even dry before the talk switched from count your blessings to iPods and DVDs. My friend J-- and I decided to blow the whole shopping thing off and instead spent Friday volunteering as bellringers for The Salvation Army. Afterwards, we rode along with Lamont as she checked out some other collection stands at the mall.

One thing that we noticed about people was that they were smiling when they threw a few bucks in our kettle. But as people streamed out of the mall, nobody was smiling -- even though they were walking out with bags of gifts. When J-- and I were freezing our butts off outside the Post Office, a mailman took time out of his schedule to bring us out cups of hot chocolate. But there was no time to spare at the mall -- we watched one car repeatedly get cut off as it tried to exit the parking lot. Some of the drivers even yelled.

I remember last year hearing about a poll where men were asked their greatest Christmas wish. The number one answer was world peace. Number two? A wide screen TV. It's as if we have our dreams for a better world, but we keep our more realistic amusements and distractions waiting in the wings, just in case.

When buying things for our loved ones becomes a curse rather than a blessing it's time for us to reevaluate how we're going to celebrate the holidays. I don't want the parties and get togethers this season to be just another obligation on my already overloaded to-do list. I don't want to be so fixed on the next bargain that I can't share some courtesy with the people around me. I don't want to feel like I'm buying the approval of Lamont and the kids on Christmas morning.

I don't want to live in a world where Black Friday exists but Advent doesn't.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light...

I'm elvish?

Elvish

Who would have known...
Peace,
Lamont

Talkin' Turkey

President Bush continues to address the important issues of the day... In a ceremony yesterday he pardoned two Thanksgiving turkeys -- which is a heck of a lot farther than any inmates got with him when he was governor of Texas.

Here's a picture to prove I'm not making this up:

Guess which one's the bigger turkey?

Flypaper and me

-I've been stuck in a funk for a while. Frustrated w/ work...wishing I felt as connected to the new place and people (like I used to feel in J-town) and tired of running around feeling as if I'm not accomplishing much. To make things worse, every time I see old co-workers they go on and on and on about how much they miss me, my abilities and wish I could return to the DV program. My homesickness only becomes worse, because I'm reminded what I loved about that kind of work.
But I'm not really sure that "going back" would be the best choice.
Who was it that said you can only go forward. I think I need to have a chat with them. So I'm stuck.

I'm homesick for part of my old job and terrific coworkers (love you girls!), it's the holiday season so I'm swamped at work, and the laundry is piling up as I type. Part of me wants to start over with everything and everyone - but I think I figured out what I'm missing. I need to get unstuck.

I'm going to make another change.

Today, I reapplied for financial aid and I'm renrolling @ Empire State College (off campus at JCC) late in the "fall" semester - I'm only 30 credits away from my BA....I must finish because I want to attend seminary after that.
I'm enrolling full-time and going to work full time. I have to be enrolled by the 6th of December to make the Fall financial aid cut off. So here I go.
Crazy, so crazy.
but I know that it's something I need to feel satisfied with myself.
I'm gonna kick this funk yet.
I'm trying to move forward and unglue my feet from the fly paper they've been stuck in for over a year.
I will get unstuck.
Peace.

Let the Good Times Roll

I just saw a news report that one of my favorite eighties bands is getting back together. The Cars are planning a new tour and album for 2006. The original guitarist and keyboardist are taking part which will go a long way towards recreating the classic Cars sound. The real switch is that Todd Rundgren will be the new front man replacing Benjamin Orr, who is deceased, and Ric Ocasek, who obviously hasn't run out of money.

Lamont, The Trend Setter

Pardon my indulgence, but his posting will only make sense to people who know us personally...

The other day I was browsing a website entitled How To Dress Emo. Please don't ask why. They had a diagram of "the typical emo girl." Is this Lamont or what?

Gimme A Break

I've had a longstanding grudge against the candy industry since the late 1970s, when I discovered that I could no longer buy a Marathon or a Wonka Skrunch Bar. But all was forgiven yesterday when I tried a Kit Kat Crisp Wafer Bar! Imagine one regular Kit Kat wafer blown up to the size of a candy bar... Pure genius... Try it! It's more than a candy bar, IT'S A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE!!!

Kids Say The Darndest Things

Last night, my eight-year old son and I scrapped together the last bit of loose change we could find and ate a meager meal at Burger King. Afterwards I had to stop back at work because I forgot something. One of my coworkers still happened to be hanging around so I introduced her to my son. The rest of the exchange went something like this:

Coworker: So what are you and your dad going to do tonight?
Son: Hopefully get something to drink because my dad couldn't even afford to buy me a Coke because he's out of money!

This kind of outburst is very uncharacteristic of my son. Still, afterwards we talked about polite conversation, not saying awkward things to people, blah, blah, blah...

This morning I took him for his six-month dental appointment. The hygenist asked him about his sugar consumption. He slapped on his neon-glowing halo, cued the violins, and said in his best pitiful little boy voice: I occasionally have a glass of grape juice with breakfast. Sometimes I have a stick of non sugar-free gum.

The hygenist bought it. She may have even had a tear in her eye -- I couldn't tell through the eye-protection. And I came out looking like the Father of the Year, nevermind that my son drank enough pop to float a battleship last weekend and ate an entire warehouse of Hershey's products in the days following Halloween.

Later in the day it occurred to me that I was uptight with him last night when all he did was tell the truth. This morning I was relaxed because he lied. No wonder kids get confused!

That Was The Week That Was

It's been a crazy and exhilarating week at Experiment House: My niece had her baby; Lamont sent a buck to its great reward via a 15 passenger van; The family stood in awe of a 1407.3 lbs grumpkin; I participated in an excellent strategic planning session at work; Watched the nightmare-inducing --And Now The Screaming Starts (thanks James); Rode along with the youth group to Camp Allegany to see a brass band from Asbury College; Encouraged a friend; Discovered a coworker has a love of all things MST3K and horror; Hosted a life-affirming spiritual formation group last night; and received the sad news from our vet that our thirteen year-old shepherd collie may not be long for this world. Now it's Sunday morning and I have to run to Wal-Mart to buy birthday gifts for my sister and niece before I go to church and all I want to do is just sit here with my dog.

So how was your week?

I got my Buck!

Just when I thought my life couldn't get any more interesting...I was on my way home last night @9:15 pm... in the church maxi van (ie. tank).....with 3 teens in the back seat....When a 4-6 point buck leaped off the left side of the road and careened into my lane ... and me. SMACK!
I hit him @ 30mph at least...and then ran him over. I felt the sick thud (yuck) of his body hit ( under my feet on the driver's side)... and I pulled off the road to see if everyone was ok...we all were. WHEW!
But the grill and headlight of the van were rather screwed up.
Today my shoulders and back are sore from the impact...
weird fact though...did you know that your eyes can get sore and bloodshot from and accident like this? Neither did I... but I look like I have a nasty case of pink eye.
Oy -vey!
There were people that wanted to know afterward if we were ok. But my two favorite odd comments were....
'Did you save the carcass for meat" and
" What a waste of a buck."

I guess this proves the point that yes, Lamont... you are working in North Western PA, and people are more buck oriented than people oriented at times.

Bird by BLANK

I just got the new issue of The Wittenburg Door in the mail. It's the one with Elvis as a priest on the cover. It's great, although I was hoping that a satire I wrote about a certain Virginia Beach based televangelist would make this issue. I guess I'll have to wait until the January/February edition...

I have channeled my frustration at not being in this month's lineup into a productive direction. I'm writing the Great American Novel. It's a murder mystery set during a taping of Match Game '76. The first line is, "It was a dark and stormy BLANK."

Meet You at the Secret Fun Spot

Remember when it used to be fun to surf the net? These days, I think I've seen just about everything I ever want to see via a cable modem. So I have been surprised and delighted to discover the Secret Fun Spot. It's a site dedicated to pulp culture artifacts of yesteryear that I simply can't stop looking at. (Judging from the time frame of many of the selections, I'm guessing that its author and myself are around the same age.) What puts the site right over the top is its innovative graphic design, with each separate gallery getting a customized treatment. If you were a kid in the seventies this site is mandatory surfing!

My Weekend?

Well, lets start by saying I've had 2 days off in a row. But I've been under the weather.

On Wednesday night, I picked up a sleeping six year old from his seat in the maxi van and carried him into his house after group and after getting home I kept getting pain in my lower abdomin. It continued thru Thursday,,,so Fri I went to the doc. They had no clue.
So, still in pain I went to the ER friday afternoon for HOURS,,,returned Saturday morning for a sonogram...and after blood tests , urine (sorry) tests and waiting for HOURS more for test results.,, the on call doc concluded that I pulled some muscles in my thigh and stomach and sent me home with a script for painkillers (thank God) and orders to rest and see my doc on Monday if needed.
I felt rather silly...worrying about all the "stuff" that could be wrong. Then I was kinda mad. Isn't it procedure for the Doctor to ask some simple questions to see if you can recall the reason for the pain? They did ask when the pain started (considering that this week was a blur, it was hard to recall)...but it would have been much easier had they asked the brilliant question... "Have you done any work or exercise out of the ordinary this week?" That would have been too easy.
So much for two days off.

One bit of great hospital news though...my niece had her baby early this morning. His name is Eli - he's healthy and so is Mom. I'll see him on Sunday. Night.

TAra

What's in Your Wallet?

Forbes Magazine just issued its list of the Top-Earning Dead Celebrities. I think it's high time for me to look at grad school, considering dead people are out-earning me!

From the Now I've Heard Everything Dept.

A woman at my mom's church was relating the dangers of Christians celebrating Halloween... She claimed that because she carved a pumpkin with her children that Satan was able to "afflict her with diarrhea."

I want to present this woman with my prestigious Now I've Heard Everything Award. In a world plagued by war, poverty and disease, THANK YOU for alerting us to the really important issue: Jack 'o Lanterns.

Rest assured that we at Experiment House will direct all our considerable resources and influence towards the Food and Drug Administration until they require warning stickers on pumpkins, aka, "The Devil's Orange Carbuncles."

Halloween 2005 is History

You know when Halloween is over? For me it was 6:45 am this morning when I tried to get my kids up for school after the inevitable "sugar crash." I've always joked that my kids exhibit signs similar to a hang over on November 1, and my twelve year old daughter proved my suspicions correct this morning. Upon waking up she asked, "How did I get to my bunkbed last night?"

Monster Movie Mania

One of the things I used to look forward to every Halloween was the chance to get yet another look at some of the great horror movies of yesteryear. As a kid, I could expect the whole week preceding Halloween to be filled with scary delights. But today all the 4 o'clock movie shows have been replaced with newscasts, and you're more likely to bump into infomercials on Saturday afternoons than an actual movie. Even American Movie Classics and Turner Classic Movies have had pretty poor Halloween programming this year. The former has eschewed the classics for a diet of modern flicks while the latter seems to have ignored the holiday entirely. I know this will make me sound like an old fart, but I miss the days when the words "horror movie" conjured up images of Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolfman and the Mummy rather than Freddy, Jason, Michael and Chucky. I guess it was a more innocent time. Thank God for DVDs -- I'm watching Son of the Blob right now on my iBook as I pass out candy. Now that's entertainment!

Grumpkins

Some artists work in oils. Others chip away at granite. My friend Pat prefers pumpkins. While most people carve a jack 'o lantern as a pleasant diversion for one evening, he's raised the whole process to an art form. He's even been to Hong Kong to demonstrate his art. Pat will tackle the fifth largest pumpkin on record later this week -- over 1400 lbs.

For those of you not fortunate enough to live in Jamestown, NY to admire his work in person, check out his website by clicking here.

Remember, they're not pumpkins, they're grumpkins!

Images of Prayer

Struggle, burden, dizzy and never ending.
Companionship comes with misunderstanding, maybe resistance to love - swingings fists and stiff head lock. Abandonment. Worry in an unknown territory.
Withdrawn because of lonliness or failure.
Understanding and acceptance bring dancing smiles, steady feet and hope on the journey.
Fallen but not alone.
Sometimes trapped in rage but trust can break through untill you can see uninhibited joy.

Christ lead me

Christ lead me

Christ above me
Christ below me
to my left and to my right

Christ within me
Christ without me
lead me only by your light

Understand my tender heart
weary from a world of care
your wisdom, please impart

keep your spirit heavy on me,
in me,
even to the dark

Fill the cold of the corners
Warm all -
not just the part

Give me thankful words upon my lips
to guide hardened ears in and around me

Till up the clay of my soul
as I journey through these tears

Rule my heart
lead and hold me

The curtain is dead

I have these really cool curtains in my laundry room. They have tabs on the top so the decrative metal rod peeks through. I bought them at Ikea a few years ago when I first painted my laundry room.
I repainted the laundry room about a month ago and I still like the curtains so well that I dyed them to match the new colors. Indigo blue with sky blue abstract circles that showed up very pretty when the sun shone thru the glass door.
The degus that are in a new cage in the laundry room must have noticed the lovely blue shade behind their habitat and thought it would be nicer to eat than to look at.
The 2 pet degus (that had plenty of chew toys in their cage) methodically pulled the fabric through the 1/2 squares ot the power coat metal cage with thier tiny razor tipped paws and proceeded to chew a 2 1/2 foot hole in my beloved blue curtain.At least they were kind enough to eat away the fabric in a circular pattern to match the curtain.
I almost opened the door and let our family dog have at them... but I didn't.
At least not yet.

So much for exotic pets. Degus especially like the color blue. So did I.

Halloween Memories From the 1970s

I know I'm going to sound like the biggest geek* but -- I LOVE HALLOWEEN!

The first Halloween I can remember I dressed up as Bullwinkle. I had a sore throat and had to stay home with my mom while my brother and sister went out on the great candy hunt. (Yes, they shared.) I watched Mad Monster Party on TV, which terrified me! The leering Peter Lorre puppet... The tentacles that came up out of the boiling cauldron... It was the stuff nightmares were made of -- at least if one was only three or four years old.

I also have very fuzzy memories of my parents taking me to my grandma's house to let her "guess" who the person in the costume was; but the Halloween didn't really click with me until I was in Kindergarten. Three big events happened:

1. My mom bought me a Batman costume at Jamesway. It was like putting on the mantle of a god! (I actually ended up wearing a Batman costume every year thereafter.)


2. We had a Halloween party at Market Street Elementary School in Warren, PA. I got shivers when I saw hundreds of classmates all dressed up in costume. I didn't know what was going to happen next, but I knew it was going to be good!


3. I got to go trick or treating with the kids from the neighborhood. I was no economist, but Knocking on someone's door and getting a piece of candy seemed like a pretty efficient distribution system to me!

The rapid approach of October 31st is putting me in a nostalgic mood, so I thought I'd post a few weblinks for fellow travelers who remember the Halloweens of yesteryear:

1. Retrocrush - The World's Greatest Halloween Costumes
   Re-live the joy of cheap plastic masks and flame-retardant costumes.


2. Monstermags!
   I wish I still had all my issues of Famous Monsters of Filmland, Creepy and Eerie! (Note: These were all published by Warren Magazines, and since we lived in Warren, Pennsylvania, my friends and I were all convinced that the magazines were made somewhere in our home town!)


3. The Gallery of Monster Toys
   How many of these did you own?


4. The Candy Wrapper Museum
   Ever lose a filling to one of these? This site makes me pine for a good old Wonka Scrunch Bar.

Halloween has changed quite a bit since Ford was President... I've traded in my Ben Cooper Batman costume for a beret and sunglasses ala Off Beat Cinema, and I'm the one giving the candy away. But I still love it! Happy Halloween!

*As if my postings about Dr. Who aren't enough.

Hair Color Wonder

I colored my hair on Monday. I had a box of dark brown box color in my cupboard. I mixed it up. Put the color in my rather red highlighed (but grown out) hair. My hair is almost black now. I miss the red. I want the red. The question is... Can I go back? Should I? Red has always been my favorite color... Sigh.

Back Home - NYWC

I've been home from Pittsburgh for a week and the time has just flown... Here are the top ten best memories from my trip:

1. Arriving early so I could relax for an afternoon.
   
2. Being able to attend my Uncle Bud's military funeral and seeing family I've not seen in 10 years.


3. Spiritual Direction from a Godly mentor.


4. Bubbles


5. Journaling


6. Labyrinth from UK


7. One life walking exposition... I'll never forget Timothy's story. (HIV positive child in Africa)


8. Meeting kindred spirits Liesa and Betty Jo.


9. Starbucks


10. Meeting Jeff Johnson... All the great speakers and musicians!

Thanks.

Eureka!

I installed my new printer at work today. Since the cheapskates at Hewlett-Packard are too cheap to include a printer cable, I had to purchase one from Quill. Don't you just hate opening the plastic packaging those accessories come in? Why is it necessary to encase a USB cable in a layer of plastic so hard that it almost takes a direct rifle hit to release it? Well, the geniuses at Quill had a big surprise for me today: The back of the package came with a convenient pull-tab that allowed me to remove the plastic in one quick stroke. How cool is that?

I am now officially adding pull-tab plastic packaging to my list of the Greatest Inventions Ever Made, which includes:

• Star Wars Action Figures


• Pre-moistened towelettes


• Rice Crispy Treats


• The Push Up Bra

I don't know if anyone in management at Quill reads this blog, but in my humble opinion, somebody over there deserves a big fat raise.

Just As I Graham

I saw an advertisement tonight for the new Billy Graham TV special... The announcer rattled off a who's who of gospel music and then ended the spot with "--and a message of hope from Franklin Graham!" I'm sure I'll eventually get used to his son being the new "face" of the organization, but right now it kind of strikes me as if the announcer just said, "And now, The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson starring Jay Leno!"

Funday School

I filled in at the last minute for my absent Sunday School teacher yesterday. I had luckily -- or maybe providentially -- stashed some old lessons from my emerging church days in my briefcase that very morning. I pulled a lesson on the Beatitudes that worked really well at my last church, glanced it over in the ten minutes I had to spare before other people arrived, and waited for my small group magic to begin.

There are two different ways of thinking about the Beatitudes. One is to break each sentence down one by one. In other words, discuss blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted and then move on to the next verse. The other way is to look at the passage as a whole, looking for meaning while keeping in mind history and what else surrounds it in the text. The conclusions a class would draw from these two approaches can be very different. Using the first example, a person could say something like, "When I'm sad, Jesus will make me feel better." (Which demonstrates how ingrained is our consumer mentality.) Using the second example, it would become clear that Jesus is announcing His kingdom to his disciples who are mourning over the state of the world and their own sins. The comfort is found because the kingdom of heaven is here!

I chose the second way to approach this lesson. I no sooner got started before a classmate said, "These verses aren't connected because that's not they way I learned it in Vacation Bible School." I tried to get her to play along for fun, but she made it clear there was going to be no budging.

Since my entire lesson was based on using approach two, I was left hanging out there with nothing. I ad-libbed the best I could, but I can safely say this was:

The. Longest. Sunday. School. Class. Ever.

My Visit to the North Pole & The End of the World

I didn't get any writing accomplished on Thursday. I had a really good plan to make me a mean, lean, wordsmithin' machine -- namely, hide at my mom's house where no one could disturb me. Ironically, it was my mother who convinced me to abandon the productivity plan by inviting me to America's First Christmas Store in Smethport, PA. The thought of a scenic ride through the Kinzua area convinced me that the literary world could get along without me for one day and I was in that SUV faster than a group of Baptists on a tureen dinner.

Why is it that every Christmas-themed store always lays claim to being "the first"? Do they think it's a race or something? It really doesn't mean a hill of beans to me if a Christmas store is the first, second, or two-hundred and twenty-fourth anymore than it would at any other business. Just show me the Santa and get on with it I say.

And did they ever show me the Santa... Not just the traditional "American" Santa, but Santas from around the world, and Santas for every taste and inclination... Santa in a rocketship, Santa and baby Jesus (!), a Spiderman Santa with a web sack of toys, and even a Santa in camouflage battle fatigues holding an M-16 -- presumably for when he visits the DMZ this Christmas. One of the characteristics of postmodernism is an atomizing of society and culture. I would point philosophers towards America's First Christmas Store for Exhibit A. Santas for everyone!

Kitchyness aside, I did enjoy my visit to the store. The carols and holiday songs piped through the PA system soothed me. I stood mesmerized by the model town displays, where magnetized skaters continuously careened their way around the village pond, carolers sang in the town square, and every cafe and tavern held a picture perfect celebration.

I'm told that these Christmas villages come in modular pieces. A glance at the price tags showed me that it would cost a small fortune to assemble the whole village. But I guess people are willing to pay any price to recapture what has been lost in our real villages and towns -- a sense of community, fun activities, tradition, and joy.

It's a consumer's ultimate solution to alienation. Most likely, a group of carolers won't come to your door this Christmas, but you can buy a set of plastic ones to put in a display case. How will Christmas 2005 be remembered? Will future generations buy a plastic Wal-Mart with magnetized black Friday shoppers scurrying around the aisles for iPods and DVD players? Are we satisfied with that legacy?

Afterwards we drove to Mt. Jewett to see the remains of the Kinzua Bridge. This used to be one of my favorite places on earth. The bridge rose about 300 feet from the valley at its center, and was around 2100 feet long. A person could walk out onto the middle of the trestle and be rewarded by a magnificent view of the forest for miles around. This view was particularly breathtaking in the autumn. Heck, it was almost a religious experience. But it's all different now. Back in 2003, a tornado devastated some of the surrounding forest and blew down half of the bridge. I hadn't been there since the disaster.

There were a few hikers and sightseers in the park. But everyone seemed strangely hushed and reverent when confronted with the evidence of nature's power... Whole hills which should have been brilliant with the colors of leaves, left brown and bald... Downed trees... and big, black girders of metal laying in the valley below.

I miss this place. Or more precisely, the place that once was. I want my children to know it. I want to bring the youth group there on a field trip. I want to build memories there. But it's all gone and there's no going back.

I pondered as I trekked back up to the SUV if the belonging and community we so desperately reach out for at Christmas time is still within our grasp, or if its twisted remains already lie in the valley below.

Don't Spend It All In One Place

I'm back from my conference in the Lehigh Valley. It was definitely time well spent. I don't usually look forward to taking a five-hour road trip by myself, but Pennsylvania is so lovely in the autumn. Plus I loaded up my mp3 player with all the Adam Again albums, which provided a cool soundtrack to make the time pass quickly. It's strange. It's strange and it's wonderful...

You know those stories where a person goes to the mailbox and finds out some relative they never knew left them a million bucks? I just had something similar happen to me. I got a letter from the Spann Settlement Administrator. I could tell there was a check inside. Turns out a corporation I used to work for got sued over the way it handled retirement funds. And even though I haven't worked there for over six years I'm still entitled to my share of the booty! I unfolded the check made out for -- $3.72!

This experience can serve as a good illustration about pretty much my whole life.

The Contemplative Life - Update

I wanted to jot down a few notes on how my experiment in hesychasm is going. In a relatively short period of time I have found that the daily meditation has really helped me make the scripture (Psalm 51:10) my "own" prayer. There have been a few times that its words have popped into my mind when I've had to make a choice. For instance, I held my tongue during a conversation when it would have been so easy to criticize. And anything that can get me to keep my mouth shut for awhile must be a good thing!

I use a set of prayer beads that I made last year, slowly repeating the prayer as I move my fingers to the next bead. I keep my eyes closed. Some days I'm more focused than others, but then again, I bet Saint John of the Ladder didn't ever have the cell phone in his pocket go off when he was praying. But in general I experience very little distraction when I meditate, and what I do have settles down quickly.

I guess my biggest challenge right now is being consistent as I have missed a few days entirely. It's not easy to make the time as I hold down the fort while Lamont is away at the National Youthworkers Convention in Pittsburgh. I'll have to give her a pay raise when she gets back.

I'm leaving tomorrow morning for the justCommunity conference in Allentown, PA. I'm really looking forward to the workshops and hearing Dr. Peter L. Benson of The Search Institute speak. I'm also interested to see the effect the change of pace has on my practice of meditation.

Ask an Expert

Man, am I bushed today! Last night I was awoken about 2 am with a loud beeping sound. That got me up fast! A quick investigation around Experiment House revealed that the source wasn't my obvious guess -- smoke detector -- but our ancient electric range stovetop. My daughter, H--, had made dinner earlier in the evening and must have been playing with the timer. So I did all the obvious things to try and stop the beeping. A scan of the stovetop revealed that there were only four buttons associated with the timer: hour, minute, timer and clock. So how hard could this be?

I pressed the timer button. BEEP -- BEEP -- BEEP...

I pressed the clock button. BEEP -- BEEP -- BEEP...

I held down the timer button. BEEP -- BEEP -- BEEP...

I held down the clock button. BEEP -- BEEP -- BEEP...

I set the timer to 0:00. BEEP -- BEEP -- BEEP...

Getting desperate, I pressed every combination of the buttons imaginable. BEEP -- BEEP -- BEEP...

It was now 3 am. I decided a change in strategy was in order. I went to the world wide web and looked up the Frigidaire website. (Am I the only person who thinks it's weird to have a stove by Frigidaire?) Great -- you could download manuals. Not so great -- you had to type the model number into the search box.

BEEP -- BEEP -- BEEP...

So I go into the kitchen to get the model number off my stove. There's not one in the front. So I move the beast away from the wall, and wipe the cobwebs and grease away to get a better look. I'm screwed because there's no model number on the back, either.

BEEP -- BEEP -- BEEP...

I head back to my iBook and enter some random numbers in the search box. I do find some ranges, but they are newer and different models. By now it's 4 am.

BEEP -- BEEP -- BEEP...

I consider calling Lamont, who is at the National Youthworkers Convention in Pittsburgh, and decide against it.

BEEP -- BEEP -- BEEP...

I go back and repeat step one (pressing buttons at random) for awhile.

BEEP -- BEEP -- BEEP...

At 4:30 am I wake up my twelve-year old daughter and order her to the kitchen. Still 3/4 asleep, she shuffles into the kitchen and immediately shuts off the timer. She does it so quickly that I don't even see what she did.

Blessed silence.

Laundry, Driving Directions, and A Long Drive

Getting ready for the trip is the hardest part of going away. It gets harder after you are married and have kids... the family needs a little more caring for than a cat. Fill the fridge... o the laundry... send all the notes to the teachers... line up sitters... PRINT YOUR DRIVING DIRECTIONS... and try to get a good night's sleep. HA! It's 2:45am and the washer is still going strong.

But then I think for a minute... I'm getting away for 5 DAYS! I can drink coffee while I'm driving and chat on the cell with my best friend who moved to DC. I get to sit and listen - reflect and absorb -- and bring it all home. To share my 5 days with my family, friends and church folks. This trip may never end! In encouragement and enrichment anyway.

Go ahead and sleep - my holiday is just beginning...

The Contemplative Life

Lamont and I have been hosting a monthly spiritual formation group at Experiment House. Last Saturday night was the second session. We talked about the prayer-filled life and discussed many different traditions in the life of Christ and church history. At the end of the evening we all picked a different exercise to practice over the next month. I chose the hesychastic tradition, which means I'm going to pray the same prayer for fifteen minutes every day. I'm using Psalm 51:10: "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." The purpose isn't to create a chant or anything -- it's to really allow oneself to live within the prayer, to experience Christ in the words. I'll let you know how it goes.

Feeling Blue

I'm feeling so blue tonight. My Uncle Bud passed away in his sleep late Saturday night and I learned about it late last night. Uncle Bud was the Uncle with twinkling blue eyes, the comfortable lived -in house I always felt at home in, married to artsy Aunt Dolly (she spray painted a mural of Arizona on the inside of her pool privacy wall, let me ride horses from her barn, and took care of me when my sister was dying.), and Bud always told me how beautiful I was. I'll miss him so much. Those times spent at this house were some of my fondest childhood memories.

There is no money for a funeral - so he's being cremated and the memorial isn't scheduled yet.

Uncle Bud, thanks for taking me out for my first fried ice-cream.

Read This

I have had this book on my shelf for a long time and had forgotten about ir till' my husband started reading it a while ago. If you hven't read it you should, it's called "The Search for Signifigance". Maybe it's where I'm at right now, but the whole idea of having my life centered on God's grace and not my striving, fretting and desire to be "perfect" - really hits home with me. Consider picking it up - you'll want you own copy as you'll need space to write in the journal and quiz parts provided. They also mke a journal I picked up too - but you'll want to read the book first.

Sabbath Day

It is wonderful to have a day off to read, sleep, go grocery shopping, and get a haircut. I've need a day like today for a while - with no schedule or appointments. Days like today are what I like to call my "Sabbath Days".

Later this week I'm going to a conference for work and I'm excited to go and be around all those people and see some new things - but that time wouldn't seem so good without today.

Thank you God for Sabbath Days.

Thank You. Period.

Saint Paul instructed the Roman Christians to "...not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you."

So how do you take a compliment? Do you quickly blurt out a quick it was no big deal to get the attention off yourself? Or do you keep milking the moment until you're the only one left applauding? I'm teaching my kids right now how to humbly accept a compliment. Usually saying thank you is a graceful enough response. It allows one to feel good about a job well done without becoming prideful.

As I have discovered with most of my parent-to-child imparted wisdom, I should heed the advice myself. When complimented I still alternate between getting red faced or feeling the need to point out every minute effort that it took to complete the good job. Although they seem like polar-opposite responses I think they're both rooted in poor self-worth.

Think about it. Isn't downplaying a compliment really saying that I'm not worthy of it? Similarly, fishing around for additional compliments indicates a definite lack of self-worth. I hope that someday I will be able to strike the healthy balance that gets missed between these two unhealthy extremes.

Welcome to the Family

Today was the day that myself, Lamont and our daughter transferred our memberships into our "new" church. (That's kind of a joke because we've been attending there for nearly a year.) So did seven of our friends. I'm not really big on ceremony or anything, but it really occurred to me today as I stood there in the chapel that I'm really happy to be part of this group. Even more so, I feel like I belong someone for the first time in a long time.

Night Stalker

I caught the last third of ABC's remake of The Night Stalker last night. Wasn't impressed. This show has little to nothing in common with the original series. Kolchak isn't a lovable loser anymore -- he's more like Fox Mulder if he was an underwear model. He's also not a loner anymore -- he's acquired his very own Scooby Gang. I can't imagine how the producers thought this reimagining was going to work. At least there's one benefit to this new show -- it got the original classic series released on DVD!

September 29, 2005

Delightful
Breathe in crisp September air
Squint to see a light fragile shower --
Put on a comfortable sweater
Autumn

Fan-buechner-tastic

I just finished off the great book Son of Laughter last weekend. But my hunger for reading Buechner is unabated. So I dug into Brendan. I'm just a few chapters in and am already thinking this may turn out to be even better than Godric. Every sentence is so vivid and descriptive; every paragraph a mini-masterpiece. How does he do it?

P.S. If you're unfamiliar with this Buechner fellow I gad on about from time to time, go get indoctrinated at The Church of Holy Love, Inc.

Van Helsing

Okay... So I finally watched Van Helsing yesterday... Everybody already knows by now that this film pretty much sucked, so there's no point in my writing a review. Let me just make one point about the film that should have been obvious to the filmmakers from day one: If you're making a movie with Frankenstein, Dracula, the Wolfman, and Mr. Hyde it should be a horror film, not an action adventure epic. If you can't get that fundamental part right, nothing else much is going to work for the film, either. A wasted opportunity from Universal -- the company that created the horror film in the 1930s.

P.S. Who was the sleepwalker they got to play Dracula? I've seen scarier vampires in Count Chockula commercials!

Day off

Today is the first day off I've had by myself in a quiet house forever. All summer was spent running to and fro from camp, so there was little quiet there. The last few weeks at work have been hectic with short staffing and doing jobs I don't normally do. I realise that I've become so accoustmed to running that I'm not quite sure what to do when I'm not. Except sleep. I've been ill for the last week so I'm sure I need it. It's just that there are so many things screaming for my attention in this quiet house - that I feel more behind here than anywhere. This kind of time is so precious and small, that I hate to spend it sleeping/resting even when I need to. Whoever thought a quiet day at home could seem so loud.

My Million Dollar Idea of the Day

Picture this: Pizza Hut -- open for breakfast. The menu? Cold pizza. How could this miss?

Boogie Nights

Is it just me, or would the movie Boogie Nights been better titled The Next Big Thing?

The Sardonic Plague

"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." For the plague has come to Experiment House.

Well, not so much of a plague really, but more like a flu. Actually, not so much a flu as a mild biological irritant. Think "The Caffeine-Free Flu", "The Flu Lite" or even "Flu Zero".

THE FLU has one barfing into a toilet at 3 am.
THE FLU LITE just leaves one mildly nauseated all the time.

THE FLU knocks you off your butt for a day or two.
THE FLU LITE just leaves one feeling slightly draggy all friggin' week, but not enough to call in sick or lay in bed.

THE FLU sets your ears, nose and throat on fire.
THE FLU LITE just gives you a little ache in the throat every time you swallow.

THE FLU gets you sympathy from friends and family alike.
THE FLU LITE gets you diddly squat, but keeps you in a constant state of irritation.

So everyone at Experiment House is sick right now, but not in a "singing the choir invisibule" sort of way. More like a "stuck in the dentist chair listening to the Starland Vocal Band" sort of way.

P.S. Plus J.D. won on Rock Star INXS and that hasn't helped our spirits, either.

Air

Air

I've been away too long.
It's like I need to breathe fresh air into this post so that it can live again.
Do I have the air?
Do I have the time?
Can I mix the right amount to make just enough rhythm and not too much rhyme?

I've been away too long.
I've missed this too much.
I'll take a nap, read a book and see what I can eat for lunch.

Then I might have enough breath,
to share them and bring life to these words.

Maybe if my feet don't shuffle too much
and I don't chew my gum to loud,
I could hold an audience and not scare away the crowd.

Crowd in close, don't let it escape.
The air, the words and whats on my chipped plate.

Lamont's dream

I had a weird dream this week that our family had moved into this huge house that never seemed to end. Only the property was plunked down in the middle of a brownstone development. All the neighbors had this huge housewarming party where they brought their favorite foods to share as well as gifts for me and my family. The whole dream had this "carnival' feel to it except I really was not into the whole experience - because people were bringing me things I diddn't want. Like week old lazagana, dead gold fish in a cruddy bowl, and a bunk bed set with torn up mattresses. I was freaking out as the stuff continued to pile higher and higher.
I tried to escape outside, only to find my Pastor setting up in the yard with a huge amout of sound equipment gearing up to do an outdoor church/welcome service.
What?
I was getting soaked by the sloshing water inside of the deceased goldfish inhabited glass dome, as I climbed up a spiral staircase that led to a high spanish style patio... and I woke up.


Let me know if you have any ideas about this one. I don't have a clue.

6 Reasons Why Friday Was Cool

WHY FRIDAY WAS COOL:

1.I was able to help a little with this whole Katrina stuff today at work by answering phones and giving folks info on how they could help the problems down in the gulf.
2. I gave sombody advice on how to further thier education and they took the info decided on a program.
3. I got to play with a 17 moth old baby that had no limit to laughs and energy.
4. I got to visit my friends at the WASU.
5. I had youth group and almost all new students attended.
6. I witnessed a miricle today and a prayer was answered.

I guess that makes any day great, especially a Friday!

Wittenburg Door #201

I just received the good news that my humor piece, Dr. Philemon, is going to appear in issue 201 of The Wittenburg Door. It comes out in September. The satire imagines that the Philemon of the New Testament book is actually one Dr. Philemon, a self-help guru who feels the need to complicate St. Paul's plea for simple forgiveness.

In case you've never heard of it, The Wittenburg Door is "the world's pretty much only religious satire magazine." It has been delighting and/or horrifying readers since 1971. You can find subscription info by clicking here. The magazine also publishes a free biweekly newsletter that you can sign up for here.

Badsterpiece Theatre

Bad movies seem to be coming back into vogue: Entertainment Weekly recently ran an article on the almost 40 year-old Manos, The Hands of Fate; Showgirls is out on a special collectors edition DVD; The MST3K gang -- er -- The Film Crew is hosting movies on Encore; and even my little hamlet of Jamestown, New York is screening Barbarella (!) in a few weeks as part of a cult film festival. At this rate I fully expect that the Medved Brothers are going to receive a congressional medal of honor or something.

I just saw a movie that has to be one of the worst movies ever. It's not one of those so-bad-it's-good movies I endlessly prattle on about, but one of those so-bad-it's-bad flicks.

So bad as in "I'd rather watch any incomprehensible dubbed horror flick on a Wizard VHS."


So bad as in "I'd rather sit tight for an entire Full House marathon."


So bad as in "I'd rather study Ice Pirates starring Robert Urich frame-by-frame."

This ninety minute nightmare masquerading as a children's movie was called The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl in 3-D. It was made by Robert Rodriguez, who I really admire. He made the Spy Kids series of films which I think are fantastic. Shark Boy and Lava Girl is technically awesome but falls completely flat in every other area. The story is incomprehensible. The acting is atrocious. I would go into more detail, but frankly I'm trying to block this film from my psyche.

The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl in 3-D = RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!!!

Eleven Good Things About This Weekend

On Friday morning I got up to discover that some sad individual had smashed in the window on our minivan. It comes at a time when we really can't afford any additional expenses, but I was determined to not let some anonymous vagabond spoil my weekend. And he/she didn't. In fact, here are 11 good things about this weekend:

• Volunteering at my church's concession stand at the Warren County Fair. The Salvation Army crew put the fun in funnelcakes.
  
• Catching a 20+ year-old rerun of Saturday Night Live completely by chance that had Joel Hodgson as a guest.
  
• The roast beef, mashed potato and gravy dinner that the Pomona Grange was selling at the fair.
  
• Hearing from an old friend on Yahoo Messenger.
  
• Our church picnic at Chapman Dam that found everyone in a great mood.
  
• My brother getting released from the hospital.
  
• An extremely productive day at work.
  
• Taking a walk in the great outdoors.
  
• Lemonade on a hot day.
  
• Non-scented soap.
  
• Driving home at 11 pm to the sounds of the Kinks' Village Green Preservation Society CD.

I.F.'s Weird Dream of the Week

I was the Pastor of Spiritual Formation at a church, but I was really old. My hair and beard were a lot longer than they are now and had gone all white, too. I was wearing a comfortable Harris Tweed suit w/vest and a nifty bow tie. I was also wearing a scarf. Think Gandalf meets Oxford professor from the 1950s. Anyhow, I also had this cool wooden cane/scepter. I would point it at people and shout (in the nicest way) GLORIEAL! This would be accompinied by a quick flash of lightening and the loudest thunderclap ever. But no one was hurt -- on the contrary, they were all rather blissed out afterwards. It was obviously a very good thing!

GLORIEAL!

Where's Chris Hardwick now?

What's up with the WB49 News at Ten? Every time I watch the show there's a different anchor and reporters. Last night's anchor was a Jenny McCarthy lookalike to the point of being distracting: it was a pretty heavy news night but I kept expecting her to pull a funny face or grab her boobs or something...

Someone call Guinness!

I think this may be my laziest Saturday of all time. My day began when Lamont came upstairs to see if I were still alive, because it was 1:30 pm. I came downstairs and ate a leftover hamburger for breakfast while I looked at the super cool Kiddie Matinee website for what seemed like forever. And now I'm posting to Blogger, wearing a bathrobe and not much else.

Life is good.

Review: Doctor Who Season One

The residents of Experiment House were some of the lucky few in the USA privileged to watch the new series of Doctor Who. The science fiction show airs practically everywhere else in the world -- including South Korea, for Pete's sake -- but due to the apathy of American broadcasters, not in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

How did we acquire our copies of the program? Well, every Saturday evening between March and June we would hear a wheezing, groaning sound coming from the back yard of Experiment House. By the time we would get out there to investigate, the source of the noise (whatever it was) would be gone. But we'd find a DVD of that week's episode and a jelly baby sitting on the steps. I bet you have stuff like that happen to you all the time.

I've been a Doctor Who fan since I first watched it on WOR-TV back when I was a fifth grader in 1978. I've read the books. I own the DVDs. I even have a complete run of the American comic book that Marvel put out in the mid 80s. I just say that so you have some perspective on my fan geekiness -- even though the program had long since disappeared from television (and the public consciousness) it was still something I very much enjoyed.

The wait for the new series was almost unbearable. But strangely, when I received the premiere episode, Rose, I was almost afraid to watch it! I remember thinking, what if it sucks? In other words, what if the BBC took something I have dearly loved for almost thirty years and bungled it up? (Think The Phantom Menace...)

I was pleased to discover that the new series was a worthy successor to the original series. The story telling was much more mature, the special effects were great, and Christopher Eccleston and Billie Piper made engaging leads. Experiment House is a busy place, but for 45 minutes every weekend everybody stopped to see what The Doctor and Rose were up to this week. What follows is my ranking of the first season by order of preference:

#1. The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances
It always amazed me that the classic series never did a story set during the London blitz. Writer Steven Moffat corrected that omission in his two-parter and proved what a great backdrop it made for an exciting story. This was the highlight of the whole season for me, with the perfect balance of horror and humor, action and character development. I'm afraid of the bombs, Mummy became the catchphrase of the my son for weeks after. I'm so happy to hear that Steven Moffat is writing a story for season two!

#2. Father's Day
The new series continually pushed the boundaries of what constituted a Doctor Who story. Perhaps no single episode illustrates this so much as Father's Day. I can't imagine anything like this being attempted in the classic series. A show that was equal parts Twilight Zone and X-Files, Rose goes back in time and saves her dad from dying, only later to discover the disastrous consequences to her actions. Milking the tearjerker ending for all it's worth, Billie Piper steals the show.

#3. Rose
Rose, the episode that (re)started it all, has been criticized by some fans as rushing to a quick climax. (If I had a dime for everytime a woman criticized me with the exact same words, too -- bada-bing!) Some people don't seem to comprehend that Rose wasn't really about an Auton invasion at all. That was just the backdrop to the real agenda: introducing a new generation to The Doctor's world through the eyes of an average person. Take for instance the careful buildup to revealing the interior of the TARDIS, rather than just the "it's bigger on the inside than the outside" speech that sufficed in the classic series. In the weeks leading up to the premiere I wasn't sold on the leather jacket wearing Doctor, but I found that I "bought" Christopher Eccelston's performance from the second he appeared on screen and never gave a second thought to what he was wearing. A splendid premiere.

#4. Dalek
Everyone knows that The Daleks are baddies numero uno, but as an American who missed the Dalekmania of the sixties I could never quite comprehend what the big fuss was all about. Writer Robert Shearman showed me by demonstrating the horrifying destructive force of just one solitary Dalek in this "base under siege" story. I have to confess that I'll never look at the villains quite the same way. And when a whole army of Daleks appear at season end, I didn't need The Doctor to tell me that this was very bad news indeed.

#5. Bad Wolf/The Parting of the Ways
I'll admit it -- we Doctor Who fans are even bigger geeks than Trekkies. So you can imagine how I loved every second of the final two-parter of the season. The Daleks, with their menace recently reasserted, drew more from their TV21 comic strip version than anything ever seen on the TV show. From the spoof of reality TV to the Dalek massacre on Game Station, everything seemed designed to allow fans to get their "geek on." Christopher Eccleston, we hardly knew ye!

#6. Aliens of London/World War Three
Series One excelled at making The Doctor's universe more "real." This two-parter was the one that finally showed the aftermath left in the wake of a person disappearing off the face of the earth with The Doctor. It's not pretty. The "proper" adventure concerned farting aliens, a spacecraft clipping Ben Ben, and a cameo by A Pig In Space. This is the one that had my son saying BEST EPISODE EVER and if I were eight, I would have agreed.

#7. The End of the World
Following on directly from the premiere episode, The End of the World has many wonderful moments: Rose having a borderline freak out by being surrounded by so many aliens, hints about The Doctor's past, and how The Doctor and Rose console each other at the end. This episode demonstrated to me just how different this new series was going to be in its storytelling: The Doctor and his compainion weren't superheroes -- they were real people.

#8. Boomtown
A Slitheen returns in this lighthearted romp. Was I dreaming or did The Doctor and company really gadabout like the cast of Buffy, The Vampire Slayer?

#9. The Unquiet Dead
This tale of the walking dead in eighteenth century Cardiff was enjoyable enough, but nowhere near the classic that many fans make it out to be. It seemed like an attempt to recapture the gothic episodes of the 1970s, but the fast-paced action seemed out of step with the atmosphere. (Lamont and my daughter disagree with this review citing The Unquiet Dead as one of their favorite episode of the season.)

#10. The Long Game
This was my least favorite story of the season, despite the fun of seeing Simon Pegg as a guest star. Oddly enough, The Long Game was really all I was expecting from the new series: The Doctor lands at wherever, finds some injustice, sets it all right and leaves. The Long Game isn't bad by any means -- it just suffered from being stuck in amongst so many other gems that it just came off as a pedestrian runaround.

The first season of Doctor Who far exceeded my expectations. Despite my ranking of preferences, I can honestly say that there wasn't an episode I didn't enjoy in some way. I can't wait to see what the production team has planned for season two!

Pax Somnium

I had the most wonderful dream last evening. My family and I were having a traditional picnic -- basket, blanket and everything -- on my mom's property a little ways from her home. As we were setting up, Lamont remarked how wonderful it was that there would be no more terrorism or wars or bombs because everyone in the world had simply agreed that it made no real sense in the end. All the weapons had been dismantled. As I sat there eating my cold chicken, reflecting on the world, it occurred to me that I was different too -- I had let go of the anger and hurt and resentments towards other people I had been carrying around. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace and realized that everyone else in the world was feeling it too.

Fangs For The Memories, AIP

I love my new job. One of the advantages of working closer to home is that I feel so much more connected to the people around me. I reckon in the last two weeks I've seen more people socially than in two months at my previous job. I was even able to hook up with misteroblivious for a combination picnic and DVD/CD swap last weekend.

I lent him copies of Manos - The Hands of Fate, the Star Wars trilogy, and my Tomorrow People boxed set. I fully expect to at least see a review of Manos on the blog sometime soon. I ended up with the ELO boxed set and Bryan Ferry's Taxi. Plus, misterobvious was finished with my Midnite Movies double feature of Count Yorga, Vampire and The Return of Count Yorga.

With Lamont traveling to George Romero country to retrive children from summer camp, I spent my evening down at my mom's house. Steak dinner, swimming at the pool, nap and movie... It really doesn't get any better than that. My mom had requested that I bring along a movie to screen on her gigantic Phillips widescreen television. We had recently exhausted all the Hammer horror classics, so for a change of pace I brought along The Return of Count Yorga.

As a horror film fan, my adoration of the genre really runs towards the aforementioned Hammer films and Roger Corman's Poe series. But there's something about American-International Pictures of the early seventies that really fascinates me. No one will claim that the seventies found AIP at the top of its game. So maybe it's nostalgia that fuels my interest -- I remember catching a lot of them on TV back in elementary school, or maybe it's just knowing that these movies were the last gasp of fangs and castles before the genre was taken over by demon possession and mad slashers.

Take the Return of Count Yorga for instance. The acting, cinematography and makeup really aren't that great, but somehow the film hangs together as an experience much more than the sum of its individual parts. Scenes of Robert Quarry in pancake makeup running in slow motion should induce laughter -- instead, it's terrifying. The vampire brides attack on a family during a wind storm is particularly unsettling, even if it looks like their fake fangs are going to slip out of their mouths at any moment.

It was dark by the time the movie had finished and we all thought we could faintly hear the Santa Ana winds...

Like most AIP films of the era, The Return of Count Yorga is just plain fun, and isn't that what watching movies is all about?