House

I have just completed reading the book House co-authored by Frank Peretti and Ted Dekker. Even though the book is categorized as "Christian Fiction", it is plainly in the horror genre. Actually, now that I have read several books in the Christian fiction category, I'm still not entirely sure what this means. There is still plenty of sin, immorality, darkness, hatred, and sin (yes I know I listed it twice). I guess it usually means that there is at least some mention of God or that there is some "supernatural" tie-in in the story. But I digress.

The story starts with a married couple, Jack and Stephanie (aka the good couple), who have recently lost their daughter, taking a shortcut through a sparsely populated section of Alabama on their way to a marriage counseling appointment. Along the way we are introduced to a strange policemen who forces them to detour down an isolated backwoods road. On this road, their tires are shredded on a spike strip near a quaint and charming, if oddly placed, inn. Upon arriving, they run into another couple, Randy and Leslie (aka the bad couple), whose car met a similar fate. Soon thereafter, they meet the inbred, circus folks who run the inn. At this point we understand why this novel is called "House". An insane, demonic killer possesses this inn, which is almost like a living creature. He also controls the circus family. He has set up a game where nobody can leave the inn until a dead body is offered up from among the four guests. If by dawn no body has been offered, then they all must die. The two couples fall into survival mode, but as their deadline gets close, they start to turn on each other. As the story unfolds, we meet another captive in the inn, a young girl named Stephanie. We do not know until the end if she is really another prisoner, or whether she is part of the wicked game.

Let me say that I found the book to be a very enjoyable read. However, the basic plot elements offered nothing new or outside the box, but they did provide a solid base for a story. The book, which was less than 400 pages in length, could have been improved with a bit more time developing the characters to allow us to get to know them, understand them, and develop a reason to care about them. Jack seems to quickly ally himself with Leslie, with almost a physical attraction. Randy seems like a complete jerk. Stephanie seems like an unloveable air-head. The strange policeman who shows up at the beginning and the end of the story is not well developed, and it is not clear what he is supposed to represent. Finally, the story, which is an allegory about Jesus as the sacrificial lamb, without spot or blemish, had a somewhat abrupt, forced, and not fully satisfying ending. It makes me wonder how two successful authors with different styles and approaches really collaborate together. Is the output of the sum better than that of the individual parts?

Beaver Cleaver

I read recently that Barbara Billingsley ("yes I speak jive") died. You may remember that she played the loving and proper mom of the Cleaver family in the 1950s show Leave it to Beaver. This old program followed the adventures of the young Theodore "Beaver" Cleaver and taught us a few lessons about growing up along the way ("put your foot on the lady's thumb"). Although sappy and dry by today's standards, this show represents a time capsule slice of life from a different, simpler and more innocent, bygone age. I remember watching the show in the afternoon when I got home from school. This was back in the days before cable T.V. and I had only 4 or 5 channels to choose from. Although not my favorite show, likely because black and white never could hold a candle to color in my mind, it, nevertheless, did leave an impression on me that has lasted through the years.

The same evening I read of Mrs. Billingsley's passing, I was doing a bit of channel surfing, when I stumbled upon another old show that I have probably not seen since I was in high school. I Dream of Jeannie, which stands in stark contrast to the Cleaver clan. was a 1960s show about an astronaut (Major Nelson) who finds a genie and takes possession of her. She ran around showing her scandalous belly button and called the man who found her "master". This show was cut from the same mold as Bewitched. (Note: for several years as a kid I had a crush on Elizabeth Montgomery.) It's interesting how much America grew up in moving from the Cleavers to Major Nelson in just a few years.

Now flipping through the channels, we find popular shows like Jersey Shore, which is nothing more than offensive, badly scripted soft porn, and show after show that is all about shocking us and pushing the moral envelope. We have come so far so fast, but I'm not necessarily sure that we are any better off. So reading of "Mrs. Cleaver" dying left me feeling a bit sad.

Walkman

I have seen the nostaglic looks on people's faces when some star from their past has blinked out. That look associated with fond memories pulled out from some dusty corner of their mind. Sometimes there are tears of joy formed from recalling moments of fellowship, or youth, or innocence that have gone by. Maybe feelings were stirred up when they saw the out-of-business sign on the restaurant where they used to hang out. Perhaps it was when they drove by the shuttered theater where they used to take their special sweetheart. For some, it might be when they learned that some product connected with their past isn't made any more.

I had that same far-away look in my eyes when I read recently that Sony will not be making any more Walkmans, those portable radio/cassette units that allowed us to take our music with us wherever we went. I can remember very well back in high school when I finally purchased mine. They had been the craze, the must-have item, for several years before I could afford one. Back then I remember lingering in the electronics section of my local department store, filled with longing. Today if I want something, I can just go out and buy it. But back them, oh boy, did I have to practice patience. Usually I could not afford the latest thing until it was already old news. Nevertheless, by the time I had saved up to buy whatever it was I had my heart set on, my level of excitement and anticipation had climbed off the charts.

Back in high school, music was such a regular and important part of my day-to-day existence. I used to listen to the radio for hours on end. With my Walkman strapped over my shoulder, I was able to go out on long walks to find my peace, to think things through, to sing out loud to the world. Those moments alone were an important part of my growing up and figuring myself out. Seeing that news piece about the end of the Walkman kind of stirred up some of those old memories now nearly 30 years in my rear view mirror.

A+ America 3

I keep up with the national and international news like most folks. My guess is that we have all heard countless stories of how poorly the American education system ranks in comparison to that in other countries like Japan, Germany, and Sweden. When I read these news pieces I am left with the impression that our elementary, middle, and high schools are doing little than providing cheap day care for our children. Those schools that try to make an effort only teach to the dullest student in the room. The main goal is to make everyone feel good about themselves. Everywhere it seems that our students graduate high school unable to read or write, unable to think for themselves, and unable to compete in the dog-eat-dog "real" world. These news reports on our education system portray the teachers as a bunch of louts who couldn't give a rip about our children. I can certainly admit that my view of our system and the people in it has been strongly colored by the news reports that I have come across over the years.

Recently my daughter's middle school hosted what was termed an "open school" night for parents. I got a chance to meet each of her teachers in each of the different class rooms. The teachers then told us about their curriculum, their standards, and their expectations for each of their students. What I found during my visit were teachers who loved what they were teaching, who cherished the opportunity to teach and interact with young people, and who took great pride in the job they were doing. They each demonstrated passion, energy, and commitment. I can only say that I was very much impressed. Definitely this rates an A+ America in my book.

Left Behind

I have written many blogs about my daughter and her impact on my life. To be sure, she is very special to me and I take my responsibilities as her father very seriously. A big part of my role is to raise her to be a strong and confident person, who will have the skills and tools necessary to leave the nest when she is ready. I have loved watching her grow up and figure things out, and to see her blossoming into a fine young lady who I am very proud of. However, recently, I have noticed a distinct shift in her personality. Something, much more mature, is emerging in her as she moves towards being a teenager in just a few more months. I think for the first time, I have started to realize how much I miss the relationship that I had with her when she was younger.

As my daughter grows up, in some sense, she leaves versions of herself behind. Not literally of course, but my mind has a tendency to "freeze" periods in my daughter's life in a capsule. If I compare those encapsulated versions of her to who she is now, they are very different. Sometimes when I realize that my daughter has left one of her old selves behind, I find that I am not ready to have that person leave my life. I miss interacting with them and loving them in the way that I did.

I realize that every parent goes through this as their children grow up. For a season, we are the center of their lives. Everything they do revolves around us. Then, one day, we find that things have changed. They have a life outside of us. They have relationships outside of us. If we are not careful, we can feel left behind. We need to make adjustments in our behavior and approach to make the most of who are children are and how they are growing up. We need to make adjustments to have the healthiest possible relationship with our children. While I understand that, I still miss holding my daughter's hand as we walk along, or holding her in my arms, or singing her to sleep with my own repertoire of silly songs. I miss so many things, perhaps because they made me feel more needed, perhaps because they made me feel young and alive. I need to find a way not to be left behind so that I can move forward with everything that I have.

The Oath

The people in the town of Hyde River are hiding something from the outside world. They may smile and wave to a passing stranger, but that apparent back-woods charm is merely a thin veneer. Everyone rigidly keeps to themselves. They live in fear and won't even talk about it among themselves. There is a shadow that lingers over this town and has since the original foundation charter was signed over a hundred years ago. What everyone is afraid of initially is not entirely clear. It could be the dark history associated with their small, company-owned mining town. It might be the iron-fisted patriarch of the Hyde Mining Company, whose power derives from his bloodline. It could be all of the people who have disappeared over the years without a trace and without question. It could be the myth of the dark creature that lives up in the surrounding hills. Perhaps though, the true reason derives from what lives deep inside each of us.

In The Oath by Frank Peretti, the story begins with the gruesome killing of Cliff Benson, a visitor to Hyde River. Steve Benson, the brother of the dead man comes to town to check on the welfare of his brother's wife Evelyn. She tells a bizarre story of Cliff's death that seems to make little sense. The local folks have labeled the death as a bear attack, case closed. However, after a bit of poking around, Steve finds that the bear attack story doesn't hold together. Regardless, the locals want to quickly wrap this case up and get Steve and Evelyn out of town. Steve senses that something is not right and is then quickly pulled into the dark history, past and present, associated with Hyde River and its people.

The dark history of the town is directly connected to a creature that survives off the people. Initially it is small and controllable, and does the bidding of the town's founder and his family. However, over the years it has grown beyond control and shows that no man is its master. The beast in this tale represents sin and the complex, layered story shows us how sin controls us and eventually destroys us. We come to understand that left unchecked, sin can take over our lives. When sin first arises, we feel the pangs of guilt and shame, but eventually we become enured to its influence and stop caring altogether. When sin has us fully under its control, we are led like lambs to the slaughter, a tasty meal for the insatiable monster. However, even though each of us is stained with sin, oozing with its black mark, there is a path to forgiveness and peace through Christ. We just need to care.

Kind Face

Have you ever passed by a complete stranger, perhaps at the grocery store or the mall, maybe it was on the sidewalk or in an airport, and were inexplicably warmed by their presence? I'm not talking about a sexual attraction or something lustful. You somehow wish that you could get to know that person. Something about their makeup just communicates to you that they are warm and gentle and kind. This feeling can wash over you even though no words or looks or gestures are exchanged. Usually when this happens to me, I remark to myself that they sure had a "kind face".

I spent some time pondering what characteristics make up a kind face. It doesn't mean that the person is handsome or pretty, thin and in shape, or clean and well dressed. It is more imperceptible. Something like a twinkle in their eyes, a calm spirit, an inner light. It's a quiet confidence, a humble demeanor, a positive vibration. This aura is not something consciously worn and put on like a cloak. It is comprised of several intangible qualities that kind of all serve to make you take notice and pull you in.

I have been told many times over the years that I don't have this quality, that many folks who don't know me all that well are put off by me. I come across as unkind and unapproachable, even when I don't say a word. I have also noticed the few times I have held a friend's baby in my arms for the first time that they seem frightened when they look into my face. They sense something unkind about me. It's a look that they don't give everyone who picks them up for the first time. Makes me wonder if a kind face is something genetic or something learned.