Yearly Archives: 2009

Garage Sale Days

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Mom and Dad’s house. You can see them with Pam, especially if you click on the photo to enlarge it.

Pam and I spent the last two days helping Mom and Dad with their Memorial Day Weekend garage sale. We did three garage sales last summer, and will be following the same schedule this year–May, August, and October. 

The four of us were selling not only for ourselves, but for my sister-in-law Joyce and her daughter, Paula. So it was a job tallying everything separately. But with a crack CPA running the cash register (well, okay, the legal pad with rulered columns), it was no trouble. At least, not for anyone but Pam. 

Of the $1083 we made collectively, I made $187 and Pam made $139. So that was pretty good. But Mom took in the most money, thanks to her cookies, which she sells for 25 cents each in bags of 2 or 6. She made 58 dozen cookies, and all of them sold. 

Mom’s cookies–peanut butter, sugar, and monster–are famous. People come early just to get cookies, which she bakes fresh and brings out to the garage as soon as they’re ready. We ran out by noon today, and all afternoon disappointed people stopped by to ask, “Got any more cookies?” People would buy cookies, move on to the next garage sale, and then, having dipped into their cookie bag, would return for more cookies. Happened over and over.

Oh, and let’s not forget the homemade noodles. Those went real quickly. We convinced Mom to raise her price, which was at $2.50 a bag last year. We suggested increasing a dollar, but she went with $3.00. People didn’t flinch. Didn’t even notice the price. They just saw noodles, started salivating, and grabbed a bag or two. 

Probably a dozen other homes in the neighborhood also held garage sales. I toured the neighborhood once, checking out the other sales (and bought nothing, I’ll have you know). This is a neat neigborhood, located in a somewhat secluded area on Fort Wayne’s south side, near Waynedale. The neighbors are neighborly; they know each other, enjoy each other. Quaint.

Here are some of random observations:

  • For some reason, the “professional” yardsalers who arrive while you’re still setting up–they annoy me. Hey, wait until we’re ready, you vultures.
  • A large percentage of the people who come to Mom and Dad’s garage sales are Hispanic. Seemed like a much greater percentage this time.
  • I favor a national moratorium on manufacturing mugs. Garage sales are littered with mugs people are trying to unload. We have enough. No more, at least for ten years or so, til we deplete the excess inventory.
  • Quite a few Amish people came thorugh. Nice people. I was noticing footwear. Pretty much any footwear seemed okay, as long as it was black. And no open toes. Some women had slip-ons with open heels. Men all wore full shoes–no sandals or anything of the kind.
  • I’m not a fan of dealing. None of us were. “Will you take 75 cents for this?” someone would ask, trying to knock 25 cents off an item that originally cost $25. No, we wouldn’t. The price that’s marked–that’s the price. Sure, we did some minor bargaining, but not much. Spoilsports.
  • Several people remarked about how clean and organized our garage sale is. Mom is a garage sale commando. She doesn’t go to garage sales, but she loves holding them, and like the perfectionist she is, everything is in its place and properly marked.
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Keith Olberman in a Minute

I am not a fan of partisan “news” shows. And I use “news” in a very loose way, because too much of what we see on the TV news channels is not journalism, but punditry. That seems to be the future of journalism, unfortunately, as print media subsides in popularity. 

Actually, there’s still a lot of good TV stuff in the general news realm. “60 Minutes” and “Dateline” and “Anderson Cooper 360” and most of the Sunday morning programs deal more in news and information than in punditry. But then there are shows like Keith Olberman, which are unabashedly partisan and, therefore, totally lacking in credibility with me. They will show only one side of things, and only what shines positively on their political end of the spectrum.
 

This Youtube video pretty much sums up Olberman. Now we need one for Sean Hannity.

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Book: The Forever War

foreverwar.jpg“The Forever War” is a great piece of war reporting. Dexter Filkins, a New York Times reporter, entered Afghanistan with US troops, and in 2003 entered Iraq with the US invasion. He spent seven years covering those wars, and helps us see what he saw.

This isn’t an anti-war book, nor a pro-war book. Nothing partisan about it. It’s just reporting of a very personal nature–progressive journalism, it’s called, where the reporter is part of the story. We see what Filkins sees. He doesn’t pass judgement, doesn’t analyze. Just observes,experiences, and reports.

The book almost reads like a novel, a series of scenes. He’s talking to a Northern Alliance commander. He’s with US Marines amidst a desperate firefight in Faluja. He’s in the Green Zone. He’s in the home of an Iraqi official. He’s accompanying Ahmed Chalabi to Teheran. Story after story. Beautiful, descriptive, yet strangely sparse writing. 

The first 70 pages take place in Afghanistan. This, to me, was the best part of the book. He describes the constantly shifting alliances, a long tradition in the Afghan history of war. One day an Afghan would be commanding Taliban troops in some town. The next, he and his men would be part of the Northern Alliance, storming that same town to oust the Taliban.

“Battles were often decided this way not by actual fighting, but by flipping gangs of soldiers….The fighting began when the bargaining stopped, and the bargaining went right up until the end. The losers were the ones who were too stubborn, too stupid, or too fanatical to make a deal. Suddenly they would find themselves outnumbered, and then they would die.”

He described how scary, how ruthless, the Afghans cold be.

“One of them would be sitting across form you in a restaurant, maybe picking at a kebob, looking at your from across the centuries…and you knew he’d just as soon kill you as look at you. Dumb as a brick, but that hardly mattered. Great cultures are like that. Always have been. The Greeks, the Romans, the British: they didn’t care what other people thought. Didn’t care about reasons. Just up and did it.” 

Filkins finds himself in a soccer stadium, where a thief’s hand is amputated, and where another man is executed as part of a sanctioned family revenge. The world Filkins reveals in Afghanistan is very foreign, and you realize what we’re up against.

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Above: Filkins (left) with some US troops.

But then the Iraq war comes calling, and Filkins transfers there. The remaining 250 pages take place in Iraq. Some things that stand out to me:

  • Chalabi, whom I’ve taken as a fool, is really a brilliant, hard-working guy–and probably in the pocket of the Iranians.
  • Suicide bombing happened a whole lot more than we realize, at least in the earlier years. It was practically a daily occurrence–if not far more frequent than that.
  • We see, very clearly, the hatred Iraqis have for Americans. Even if they hate the insurgents, they want the Americans to leave their country.
  • We clearly see the constant fear that follows Iraqis. One woman said that under Saddam, you just had to watch what you said, and you would be okay. But now, there are many ways to die, and many people who want to kill you for many different reasons.
  • Many times in the book, Filkins barely escapes being killed, whether in a battle or, more often, at the hands of mobs or fanatical insurgents.
  • “There was no entering an Iraqi home, no matter how hostile your relationship with its host, without being embraced by a hospitality that would shame anything you could find in the West.” 
  • You see a lot, a LOT, of death. Sometimes gruesome death.

The best parts are when Filkins is with US troops, whom he usually refers to as “the kids.”. I remember impressions from the books I read about Vietnam; our troops seemed undisciplined, unruly, easily drawn to drugs and alcohol, unkempt, lacking in conviction about their cause. The US troops in Iraq, by comparison, come across as very professional. They’re still kids, many of them, and war can bring out the worst in people. But Filklins paints a picture of US troops who are well-trained, disciplined, and superb at what they do. One of them takes a bullet for Filkins.

“There wasn’t any point in sentimentalizing the kids; they were trained killers, after all. They could hit a guy at 500 yards or cut his throat from ear-to-ear. And they didn’t ask a lot of questions. They had faith, they did what they were told, and they killed people. Sometimes I got frustrated with them; sometimes I wished they asked more questions. But…out there in Faluja, in the streets, I was happy they were in front of me.”

“The Forever War” is a remarkable book, and I recommend it highly.

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Rummy in Retrospect

Excellent article online from GQ about Don Rumsfeld and the problems he caused within the Bush Administration. Most interesting was his resistance to helping out with Hurricane Katrina. He didn’t want to deploy anything but National Guard troops, and kept a whole fleet of nearby helicopters idle, while the pilots wondered, “Why aren’t we being sent in to rescue people?” Finally, George Bush basically read him the riot act–good for him–and got things moving. The article tells about another time, involving Abu Graihb, when Bush called Rummy on the carpet.

I’m reading similar things in “Fiasco,” Thomas Ricks’s book about the Iraq war. Rumsfeld wanted to disprove the Powell Doctrine–go in with overwhelming force. So while the generals said we would need several hundred thousand troops, Rumsfeld started the “negotiations” by saying we would need just 10,000 troops to conquer Iraq. Rumsfeld’s stubbornness and arrogance cost a lot of lives, and led to the chaos which soon engulfed us in Iraq.

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Alpha Chi Finds Me Worthy, Sort Of

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Every kid wants acceptance. To be invited to the Popular Kids Table. And that, as we all know, is the table where the smart kids eat.

Oh wait. I might be thinking of the Jocks Table. Or the Cheerleaders Table. Or the Good Looking Kids Table. Whatever the case, I’m sure smart kids have their own table. A table in a dark corner of the cafeteria known for geeky glasses and slide rules and wedgies. 

At Huntington University, the smart kids had their own club, with its attendant secret handshake, code words, and yearbook photo. It was called Alpha Chi, which in Latin means “Someday you will work for me, you insufferably dim-witted peon.” I never knew the entrance requirements, only that I fell short, most likely by multiple lightyears. Cursed with middling intelligence, I was condemned to wander life amidst the lower castes, shopping at Wal-Mart and flying coach. 

I have, over the years, in my tireless fight against injustice and inequality, publicly bemoaned my exclusion from Alpha Chi, with its arbitrary GPA litmus test. Deep down, I admit, my motives actually surround an enduring quest for acceptance. I desire the recognition, thus far withheld, of my peers. Not my peers in the sense of intelligence, because I can find them in any trailer court. But my fellow HU alums, with whom I endured four years in the academic crucible–eating HUB food, attending classes in steam-heated Ad Building rooms, meeting the bare-minimum chapel requirements, and living with the constant fear of an impromptu thrust. I yearn to sit and sup at the Smart Kids Table and bask in the reflected glow of their otherworldly cerebral brilliance.

And now, 30 years since my classmates and I trod the platform erected on the front campus that sunny day in 1979, ultimately grasping the congratulatory hand of Dr. Dewitt Baker, my unquenched thirst finds respite. And along with it, I discovered that benevolent grace lurks within the HU History Department. Who knew?

A couple weeks ago, I received a soft package from Huntington University. Inside was a green T-shirt. Some might call it pukey green, but never mind about that. This, for me, was a magical shirt. A shirt that transported me to that mythical Popular Kids Table, which I never stopped believing in. And the T-shirt said:

Alpha Chi National Convention
Literacy 500
April 2-4, 2009, Indianapolis

On the back was the Alpha Chi logo, along with two tacky sponsor ads. Literacy 500, I learned–for I crave all Alpha Chi-related knowledge–is a drive to collect 2000 children’s books. If these are destined for the children of Alpha Chi members, then they are no doubt textbooks. 

Holding back the tears, I tried on the shirt, instantly feeling as if I could go out and square a root or name every member of the Romanian legislature, or Politburo, or whatever they call it nowadays. 

The shirt came from Dr. Paul Michelson, the Imperial Wizard of the Huntington University chapter of Alpha Chi. His Holiness Dr. Michelson, among the original recipients of the Alpha Chi Distinguished Service Award and a 12-year member (elected member honoris causa, because they adore Latin) of the Alpha Chi National Council, took pity on this member of the yearning masses. In his incalculable wisdom, he knew that this T-shirt, a meager symbol without substance, would satisfy my thirst without compromising Alpha Chi’s integrity. Like throwing an old bone to a dog and saying, “Shew!” Or maybe “Shoo!” If I were truly deserving, I would know the correct spelling.

That is okay. While the shirt may not, after all, give me a seat at the Popular Kids Table, it at least gives me the privilege of hovering nearby and observing, with envy, what the Upper Echelons eat. Unfortunately, Dr. Michelson neglected to include directions to the Popluar Kids Table. I think they moved it.

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Anchor Worship Team at Cherished Again

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The Anchor worship team playing at Cherished Again. Jenny’s son, Jonathan, kept creeping close and closer until he was pretty much part of the band. We got a kick out of that.

Tonight, the Anchor worship team played for 40 minutes at Cherished Again, a Christian coffeehouse of sorts in Fort Wayne. I say “of sorts,” because it’s actually a used furniture store. They just do Christian music in a coffeehouse atmosphere every couple months.

The Anchor team has played there several times. This was only my second time with the team. It’s a fun place to play.

Jenny Vergon, the newest member of our team, sang with us for the first time outside of Anchor. It was nice having her.

I took my short Alesis keyboard, but left it in the car. Another gal, with an 88-key Roland, said I could play hers, which was already set. That was one fine keyboard. The one I play at church is an 88-key Roland RD600, an older model. I love the Roland touch.

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At the Gun & Knife Show

I went to the Fort Wayne Gun & Knife Show this morning with my nephew, Benjamin. I’ve never seen it so crowded. Lots more guns for sale, especially handguns, than I’ve seen before.

The hysteria continues, about Democrats supposedly plotting to clamp down on, or tax, gun sales.

I remain amazed at the ability to openly by assault rifles. They were everywhere. Plus a few of those huge 50 calibre sniper rifles. I kept my eyes alert for the Mexican Mafia, but didn’t see any. 

I don’t own any guns, but do have a great bayonet collection. Bought one today, a World War I era bayonet for the Ross rifle (model 1905/1910). 

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Book: Unfashionable

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Here’s a name I’ll bet you haven’t heard: Tullian Tchividjian. And I’m sure you can’t pronounce it. He’s a pastor, and he’s got a pedigree: his grandfather is Billy Graham. 

“Unfashionable” is best summed up with this line: “Christians make a difference in the world by being different from this world; they don’t make a difference by being the same.”

Tchividjian cuts through our emphasis on relevance, trendiness, using the latest technology–in short, being fashionable in the world’s eyes. “Just when our culture is yearning for something different, many churches are developing creative ways to be the same….Churches are losing their distinct identity as a people set apart to reach the world.”

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He’s a young guy, an innovative pastor, not some old fellow criticizing Gen Xers. 

If you think he’s gonna start taking shots at Saddleback and Willow Creek and Lifechurch–well, he doesn’t. But he does raise a lot of good questions…in the first few chapters, and in the concluding chapters. In between is a lot of stuff written, I’m afraid, to produce a full-length book. Stuff I’ve heard in countless sermons. But those opening and closing chapters were worth reading. 

Some excerpts:

“To be truly relevant, you have to say things that are unfashionably eternal, not trendy. It’s the timeless things that are most relevant to most people, and we dare not forget this fact in our pursuit of relevance.”

“Daily Christian living means daily Christian dying–dying to our fascination with the sizzle of this world and living for something bigger, something thicker, something eternal. 

“Almost everything Jesus said about the nature of Christian discipleship is precisely the opposite of what our culture exalts…..What do we see more of–conferences on serving, or conferences on leading?

He critiques how we’ve built an alternative Christian culture which is based on popular culture–our own T-shirts, music, books, TV shows, movies, etc. But our model is the world; that’s where we take our cues. 

“I want to possess the backbone to dig in and be unfashionable. I’m ashamed of those moments when I’m afraid to be a fool for Christ because the world might think I’m strange….Christians who try to convince the world around them that they’re really no different at all, hoping they’ll be accepted on the world’s terms and on the world’s turf, should be embarrassed. It’s time for Christians to embrace the fact that we’re peculiar people.”

This is an important message. The book “The Fine Line” also struck these chords. I didn’t find either book totally satisfying. But it’s still stuff we need to be thinking about.

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Remembering War Reporting from Vietnam

“The best combat reporting book since Dispatches,” is how reporter/novelist Pete Hamil described it, or something close to that. He made the comment on Morning Joe a couple months ago, just as New York Times reporter Dexter Filkins joined the set to talk about his new book, “The Forever War,” about his experiences in Afghanistan and Iraq. I’m reading it right now. It’s excellent.

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Hamil’s remark made me think again about Dispatches, Michael Herr’s 1978 classic. It was among five Vietnam books I read real close together in the early 1980s. I’ve still got them all, with underlined passages that struck me at the time. All of these books were in print years before the movie “Platoon” thrust Vietnam fully into the American conversation.

Nam, by Mark Baker (1981), an oral history in the tradition of Studs Terkel.

Everything We Had, by Al Santoli (1981), an even better oral history by 31 American soldiers who fought in Vietnam. Santoli was a highly decorated soldier in Vietnam (including 3 Purple Hearts).

Something I underlined: “We did a fine job there. If it had happened in World War 2, they still would be telling stories about it. But it happened in Vietnam, so nobody knows about it. They don’t even tell recruits about it today. Marines don’t talk about Vietnam. We lost. They never talk about losing.”

A Rumor of War, a war memoir by Philip Caputo (1977), Caputo first arrived in Vietnam in 1965 as a marine, and saw plenty of combat. Later, he returned as a foreign correspondent for the Chicago Tribune. He’s a masterful writer.

Something I underlined: “Our mission was not to win terrain or seize positions, but simply to kill: to kill Communists and to kill as many of them as possible. Stack ’em like cordwood. Victory was a high body-count, defeat a low kill-ratio, war a matter of arithmetic.”

Home Before Morning, by Lynda Van Devanter, who spent a year in Vietnam as an Army nurse (1983). 

But I’d say Dispatches was, indeed, the best. And it’s acclaimed as one of the best pieces of war reporting ever. Herr wrote for Esquire, not for a staid newspaper, and his writing reflects that with passages that are often surreal and off-beat. I may need to re-read it.

Something I underlined: “Patrols went out, patrols collided, companies splintered the action and spread it across the hills in a sequence of small, isolated firefights that afterwards were described as strategy.”

How does “The Forever War” match up? It ranks right up there, and I wouldn’t doubt Filkins wins a Pulitzer. It’s that good.

But all things considered, I’ll still take Ernie Pyle’s writing from World War 2.

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Who to Believe?

Nancy Pelosi? Or the CIA, who surely would never mislead anyone.

Who is telling the truth?

Maybe, uh…neither? We’re not talking Good Guys and Bad Guys here, but full-blown Gray Folks. But it’s sure fun watching Nancy twist in the wind. Makes life worth living. 

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