On Sports and Faith and Life and Balance

Bruce Feiler wrote a great article a few weeks ago that my friend Erik Ullestad shared in his weekly "Recommended Reads" email from Elbow Co. (link here)  Take a few minutes and read what Bruce has to say about sports, faith, and families today, and then come back here for just a bit of me pushing back but also heartily endorsing much of what Bruce says.

It Could Have Been Much, Much Worse

It could have been like this:

On Thursday, we took the girls to a local middle school to be vaccinated against H1N1.

JUST.

LIKE.

EVERYONE.

ELSE.

IN.

OUR.

COUNTY.

It was not a pleasant way to spend my day off. For one thing, it was raining. All day. Two kids plus one dog trapped inside all day = two cranky kids, one wound up dog, and two exhausted parents. By 10:00 A.M. I was so fed up I took Jack for a walk in the rain just to get him out of the house and out from underfoot. Everyone was happier for at least a little while after that.

Eventually we journeyed off to the flu clinic. And I mean everyone but the cats. "Oh, let's get Jack out of the house - it won't be THAT long, will it?" Not the last thing I was wrong about Thursday, either.

We were in line for almost two hours. At one point I heard the line wrapped around the entire interior of the building and out the door. It was pretty close to that when we arrived; I don't know how early folks started showing up to get in front. As it was, the girls were really wonderful: some fussiness, but not nearly what we had feared. We did have one absolute heart-stopper when Ainsley got away from us and we lost her for the longest five minutes of my life, but a county sheriff found her and then found us (cue huge sigh of relief and ten minutes of blushing, since we'd just lost our child in front of every parent in Story County, Iowa).

Another "it could have been worse" moment was the poor dad a few families in front of us. He had two boys with him - I'd put them at approximately 8 and 4 years old. The 4 year old was Matthew. I know this because of the Litany: "Matthew, stay here with me. Matthew, please don't lick the glass. Matthew, don't go into the girls' bathroom. Matthew, let me tie your shoe." Ad nauseum. The poor, poor man.

Finally, we got into Hell. I mean, the room where they do the vaccinations. I said Hell at first because if I ever go there, I expect the first thing I'll hear is a lot of screaming children, if whoever runs Hell knows what they're doing - the reaction was unpleasant in the extreme. Thanking heaven that we could both our day off together, we filled out the paperwork as fast as possible, leapfrogging Matthew's poor dad in the process. Matthew, at this point, had been reduced to a puddle of crying boy, punctuated by moments where he tried to get away like a feral cat cornered by a vicious dog. The poor, poor man.

The girls took their medicine well. Alanna got a shot, since she's already gotten her regular flu shot. Ainsley got the nasal spray. Two minutes of tears, then out into the rain for the drive home. Jack the dog, bless his heart, hadn't chewed on a thing in the van, and was so pathetically glad to see us I think I might have forgiven him if I had. By the time we got home, everyone was happy and singing.

Being a huge Stephen King fan, the opening chapters of The Stand popped into my head several times during the afternoon. For those who don't know the plot, here's the basics: the government develops a shifting-antigen flu, which basically means that every time our bodies fight off the flu, it morphs into a different strain until our immune systems can't keep up. Of course the flu escapes its sterile environment, and eventually the pandemic wipes out some 90% of the population of the world. I realized as we were standing in line that when King wrote those chapters about the flu, he pretty much hit it right on the head. First people hear rumors of a pandemic virus, then the first few cases show up, and pretty soon it's ravaging the local population.

Of course, the first few times I read the book (somewhere around 13 or 14 years old, I think), I told myself, "I would go out into the mountains with a shotgun and a month of food before I'd fall victim to a virus like that." Thankfully, H1N1 isn't nearly as deadly for most of us, but it's really easy to find yourself amazed at what sheep we are sometimes. If I remember right, King describes a flu clinic EXACTLY like what we went through last week, with a false vaccine, just to keep the population from rioting. And here we were, obediently standing in line to be vaccinated, just like in the book. So much for the mountains and a shotgun, huh?

I am, however, grateful for the public health folks who are working so hard to help keep the virus under control. My paranoid mind-wanderings aside, we were treated with kindness and efficiency; they got a LOT of people through the line in a very quick hurry, and those of us with small kids were grateful for the extra protection against what sounds like a pretty nasty bug. It makes me realize, again, how fortunate we are to live here in this time - and how important it is to continue working on behalf of those who do not yet have access to the healthcare we so often take for granted.

Grace & peace,

Scott

The picture is a quarantine clinic during the Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918.

Pop Culture Roundup

Yesterday morning I finished Rodney Clapp's excellent book Johnny Cash and the Great American Contradiction: Christianity and the Battle for the Soul of a Nation. I quoted it a few weeks ago, but even though it's a fairly slim volume, I've delayed finishing it because it's not the sort of book you read just before falling to sleep. As a matter of fact, I'd say it's a book you read if you really want to wake up, especially Clapp's arguments against what he calls "democracy for infants." It reads a little differently after the 2008 Presidential election - some of the extreme partisanship and knee-jerk jingoism Clapp critiques is beginning to be stamped out. Some, but by no means all, unfortunately. *sigh*

Johnny Cash has become a source of fascination for me over the past few years. (As an aside, I've come to love both Rich Mullins and Johnny Cash just before their deaths; I hope in this case that things really don't come in threes...) When I was a kid, Cash was just another stack of records in the cabinet at home; I was too young and too arrogant to appreciate the beauty and simplicity of Cash's music (even though it was Johnny Cash who gave my Dad's beloved Statler Brothers their big break). And, as Clapp notes, the man himself was a giant of American music who embodied the many contradictions that lie at the center of American life. It is this life that leads all of these pictures to be true pictures of the man:





At the very least, I've learned more about being an American by paying more attention to Johnny Cash over the past few years.

Beloved and I sat down to watch The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian last night. I was surprised at how little I liked the movie. There was a pervasive sense of ethical and moral development in the first installment of the Chronicles, and I guess I was expecting more of the same here, but it played far more like a generic medieval battle epic. I think I'm going to need to read the book again to see if it's true to Lewis' prose, or if this is a case of moviemakers ruining a good book (see The Seeker and Eragon, unfortunately - two wonderful fantasy tales that incompetents turned into dreadful movies).

This morning I started a new book: So Brave, Young and Handsome by Minnesotan Leif Enger. Five pages in I was absolutely hooked - it was acutely painful to close the book and come to work. I loved his first novel, Peace Like A River, and I have the feeling this one is going to be even better.

And, of course, yesterday marked the end of my three week obsession with the Tour de France. (made even more obsessive by our DVR, which allows me to watch the entire daily stage broadcast. I think Kristin's tired of watching men pedal bicycles in tights) I was so proud of Lance Armstrong for his strong ride, and I can't wait to see what he does next season as the leader of his new Radio Shack team. I love the insider stuff about the Tour as well: knowing who's leading in the sprint points competition, the King of the Mountains, the national champions from the various countries, watching the unwritten rules of the peloton play out over the course of the three week grand tour. Alberto Contador was a worthy champion this year, but something tells me next year will be a great showdown between Contador, Armstrong, Bradley Wiggins and the Schleck brothers, Andy and Frank.

Well, that's the roundup for today, and thanks to Coffeepastor for the idea. See you soon.

Grace & peace,
Scott

Chock Full of History

It’s Martin Luther King, Jr. Day – which for our students means a day off, but for me, means a day to think on the changes we’re seeing this week. I’ve noted more than once this week that I would be happy to live to see a day when the election of an African-American, or a woman, or a Latino, or whatever non-white male as President would be commonplace, so unremarkable that it generates no commentary whatsoever. Because, if I should live to see such a day, it would mean that the person elected to that office would be elected strictly for the quality of their leadership, for the passion they invoke in those who support them, for the integrity and honor with which they approach such a public trust. I think it is these qualities that drove Barack Obama to victory in November, and I look forward to the day when, in the words of the late Dr. King, all people shall be judged "by the content of their character.” To dream those dreams is the birthright of every American citizen, and tomorrow we commemorate another step towards the fulfillment of those dreams for all people; and, I pray, we take a step toward the rebuilding of our relationships with the world as well.

Can We Please Get To Work Now?

The election is over - now, can we please start to focus on things that matter?

I'm proud to live in a country where Barack Obama can be elected President. I'd be prouder if we lived in a country where his race didn't matter, good or bad. I didn't vote Obama because he's black: I voted Obama because he was, to my mind, the most-qualified person for the job. By far.

I've been in Obama's bag since 2004, really, though I was surprised that he was able to pull off this victory. I didn't think the political process would suffer his style of optimism. I didn't think he'd be allowed to campaign as his own man, that he's take the road of "whatever it takes to win" as John McCain did (and I hope Senator McCain has enough time left to rehabilitate his reputation, because I think he's a better man than the campaign his advisors waged would suggest).

Now: will President-elect Obama's colleagues in Washington drop their gnawing at their own particular bones to work with him and right the ship that is this country? Hard to say. I'm hopeful that it could happen, but not convinced it will.

This much needs to be said, however: it's about damned time we elected a president because of his or her positive attributes, and not because he or she is the lesser of two evils. For that, at least, I'm happy today.