Write 2 the Point

Men Without Chests

2011-06-09T14:57:00.002-04:00

"These times are so uncertain

There's a yearning undefined
...People filled with rage
We all need a little tenderness
How can love survive in such a graceless age
The trust and self-assurance that can lead to happiness
They're the very things we kill, I guess." (Don Henley - The Heart of the Matter)

No sooner had the ink dried on the Time magazine cover story, Men Behaving Badly: What is it about power that makes men crazy?, than the tweets flew regarding Representative Anthony Weiner being added to the list powerful men gone bonkers. Are they really insane or is something else going on here?

The Time piece suggests a couple of possible explanations. First of all, well-positioned men have more opportunity for dalliances than other men. So, you should expect that they would do these things at a higher percentage than other men. Simply stated, it is because they can.

What is not so clear in the article but seems evident and implied by the title is the high level of hubris in these men. They consider themselves above it all, above the masses. They deserve more.

To another point, perhaps the more significant one, the author of the article (Nancy Gibbs) seems to take delight in the fact that Americans often overlook the moral failures of her leaders. She notes Thomas Jefferson, John F. Kennedy, Bill Clinton, John McCain and Rudy Giuliani as examples. Her comments: "What matters is not prudishness. . . but prudence, a sense that public figures should be discouraged from destroying themselves and their families, even if we gawk at the results when they do. And principle: that power is a privilege not to abused. . . And in cases that involve actual violence, they need to be treated like the crimes they are."

Notwithstanding her weak usages of strong words (for instance, prudence is the exercise of sound judgment, not simply the avoidance of undesired consequences for you and your family), the fundamental issue in this malaise is an erosion of principle. This is not simply the principle that power is a privilege but other principles that are far more fundamental. But these fundamentals are the very principles that many in our culture have been attempting to erode for decades. Then, when someone acts out of this new, unprincipled center, we act shocked at their behavior. Their behavior is exactly consistent with the principles our culture is promoting.

What principles are being promoted by our culture that would encourage such behavior, you ask? Well, try these on:

I decide what is right and wrong for me - there is no universal morality
My happiness is what matters most - as long as I don't hurt someone else to achieve it
Altruism is dead, if it was every really possible - you have to look out for yourself

Does any of this sound familiar? But this isn't new. It has been coming for a very long time. In 1944, CS Lewis wrote a heavy little book, titled, "The Abolition of Man." Lewis was a professor of Medieval Literature at Oxford University and from that vantage point was attempting to speak to, or rather respond to what he considered flawed views of education. Remember, this was more than 60 years ago.

The first chapter, Men Without Chests, essentially makes this point: teaching people that they are all mind and flesh, in other words, that they are thinking machines with animal-like urges programmed in but without higher principles to guide the thinking and decision-making process is creating people who use their heads and their bellies but not their chests (hearts).

Lewis' closing thoughts in that chapter: "And all the time—such is the tragi-comedy of our situation—we continue to clamour for those very qualities we are rendering impossible. You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more 'drive', or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or 'creativity' [or morality or civility]. In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful."

The Holy Spirit is God

2011-06-05T06:11:00.002-04:00

The Holy Spirit is a Person

2011-06-05T06:08:00.002-04:00

When the Foundations Are Shaken

2011-04-06T15:34:00.002-04:00

March 11 changed the world. What has been officially named, "The Great Eastern Japan Earthquake," a 9.0 giant, shifted the axis of the earth by almost 4 inches (I read one report that suggested it was closer to 9 inches) and sped up the earth's rotation such that we have lost 1.8 milliseconds of daylight per day (not quite a tragedy but certainly a major negative for sunshine hogs everywhere). Most of you are very familiar with these facts as well as the immediate aftereffects of tsunami waves as high as 124 feet and as far inland as 6 miles. The energy released was 600 times that of the Hiroshima bomb. There have been over 800 aftershocks registering over 4.5. The nuclear fallout is impossible to calculate at this point, as is the economic ramifications of this kind of blow to the world's third largest economy.

But top of the list, by far, is the depth and breadth of human carnage and suffering. We may never get an accurate count, much less put names with all of those who have been lost in this disaster. In a culture which, to my very distant observation has appeared somewhat stoic and nonplussed, this level of tragedy has shown the Japanese people to be the same as people everywhere when faced with inconceivable grief. They are overwhelmed. It has even prompted the Japanese emperor to appear on television to say, "I hope from the bottom of my heart that the people will, hand in hand, treat each other with compassion and overcome these difficult times." This may sound reserved to many but for him, this seems vulnerable and open.

My brother and sister-in-law live outside Tokyo (Gary and Natalie Clark). They love the life they have there - the people they have come to know, the food and culture they have found. While the foundations of the world were shaking, they found themselves unsettled, but their foundations are not built on the uncertainty of the world's third largest economy (or the world's top economy, for that matter) or on the false hope of a government rescue or trust in their own resourcefulness. Rather, their foundations are build on the Rock that cannot be moved. "The Lord is my rod, my fortress, my savior; my God is my rock, in whom I find protection. He is my shield, the strength of my salvation, and my stronghold" (Psalm 18:2). "I wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will not be shaken" (Psalm 62:5-6).

So, while you are thinking about the course of your life, and you are maybe thankful that you are not experiencing what those living in Japan have lived through, remember this - storms are coming to your life. They may take the form of natural disaster or personal tragedy or economic collapse or health issues or something we can't (or don't want to) imagine. Have you examined the condition of your foundations?

If You Can't Say Anything Nice. . .

2011-01-18T19:58:00.011-05:00

Actually, I would be very happy with un-nice things to say as opposed to the incoherent thoughts that have prevented me from posting a blog in the last month. What has been bouncing around in my head has been the Tuscon shooting of January 8, so maybe you can understand my lack of lucidity. This monstrous evil may be the result of a mind gone amok or this could be one who is plumbing the depths of human depravity. If you believe in a fallen state of humankind, either is a logical result of that original, fateful choice of our forebears. So, this is a topic worth exploring, however, it is not the one that captured my attention.

No sooner had this story broken with all the human tragedy and unanswered questions ringing in our hearts, than the political pundits chose to drive their knives into the soft tissue of our sensibilities. At a time when we should be drawing together, we found ourselves being told we should form a vigilante mob and lynch those responsible for such an outrageous, irresponsible act. Come to find out, the responsible ones were not holding guns but pens and microphones.

I shouldn't speak to this issue. It is fraught, inside and out, over and under with political overtones. As former President Bush responded to Oprah upon her attempt to draw him into political commentary, "You are trying to get me to wade back into the swamp." I have successfully avoided that swamp for years. But, then again, I grew up in a swamp. It was not just any swamp, either. It was dismal. Can you imagine a swamp so dense, so full of creepy beasties that the people who discovered it would say to themselves, "There is only one name for this place: The Great Dismal Swamp?" Well, I know what hides just below the surface of the swamp and I am going in anyway. This is called "courage" - or "foolishness" - just depends on perspective.

If anyone thinks that the politicians in this country have ever been polite to each other, they show their lack of familiarity with our history. Most have heard of the Hamilton-Burr duel. Some may be aware that President Jackson carried a bullet near his heart from a duel that he "won." Most probably do not know that President Lincoln narrowly avoided a duel by establishing ridiculous parameters that put his opponent at such a disadvantage as to make the affair a farce.

Naturally, physical violence is not the beginning point of these disagreements. For every duel, there have been dozens of disagreements that went too far. For every punch thrown there have been hundreds, maybe thousands of verbal blows. The aforementioned President Andrew Jackson (did I mention, PRESIDENT?) replied to a question about what he had left undone: "I didn't shoot Henry Clay and I didn't hang John Calhoun."

Don't get me wrong here. I am not suggesting that it is OK to be uncivil because we have always been this way. Further, it is rather silly to try to assign who is most to blame for the hostile climate all sides have contributed to. It comes across a little like siblings saying, "You started it."

Here is the point I want to drive to and have, I am afraid, taken a rather circuitous route to: Dr. Martin Luther King, whether you agree with his theology, his politics or his personal life, lived and died for a non-violent approach to change. These are some of his words to this subject: "Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. . . Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that." And again, "Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it."

This reflects well the words of Jesus, "You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that?And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."

My late father used to say, "Sometimes there are more important things than being right." Since in my experience he was always always right, I think I'll go with that.

Peace Across the River

2010-12-16T20:58:00.005-05:00

Last night about 11:30, my dad, Albert Bernhard Clark realized his fondest hope and went home to be with the Lord he loves and has served faithfully and well for the better part of his eighty years. One of my nephews observed this may well have been an early Christmas present for him.

The events leading up to last night are truthfully rather difficult to process. On Sunday morning, December 5, he left the house to go church, per usual, to help prepare breakfast. On his way out the door, he slipped on ice on the ramp that had been built, ironically, to make getting in and out easier and safer for him and my mother. He landed on his head, elbow and hip - got up, went on about his business, in typical Pop fashion. He went to church, took his place in his various roles. Went out to eat afterward and was finally persuaded of the possibility that he could have a concussion. Upon examination it was determined that he needed immediate and more serious attention and he was sent to Norfolk General Hospital where later that night he underwent emergency surgery to relieve the pressure building from the bleed created in his brain from his fall.

All week his progress was slow but steady and he joked and interacted and carried on business. Then, one week to the day after his accident, he experienced a seizure, probably caused by the blood still on his brain. That was controlled rather quickly and he was recovering, however, that started a domino effect that led to last night. The seizure, through a series of events we don't need to recount, led to a medium level case of pneumonia in one lung. The pneumonia appears to have been the source of sepsis (a serious blood infection) and by Monday afternoon he was mostly unresponsive and the rest of week showed small signs of progress here and there but generally did not improve. Finally, yesterday morning we were informed of his acute renal (kidney)failure and nothing in his body was working correctly.

These are the key medical events of the last week and a half leading to our loss. But, I want to describe a bit more about what led up to last night if you will indulge me.

My father was raised in a spiritual home. It was not Christian, but his family honored the spiritual quest. When he met my mother, he found a family that also pursued the spiritual but had found answers in the person, work and words of Jesus Christ. While this interested him, it was not until I was six (he must have been about 31) and we were living in California that his search for spiritual truth led him to the Way, Truth and Life. Once he made this his commitment, it was from his toes through his heart to his head. There was no area of life that was not "Christianized."

His walk with his family became about aligning his children with Christ. His business and military career and even recreation became opportunities for the Gospel and/or were subject to the priorities set by his love for God.

He and my mother opened their hearts, their home, their lives to people who were far from God, to family, to people who were considering ministry or beginning ministry. Their impact is deep and it is wide. They have had missionaries from all over the world in their home and they have been willing to live their faith in ways that required them to operate against social norms and in ways that cost them financially and in time and convenience (not just for an afternoon for years).

One of the ways their Christ-mindedness played out was in the love they both have had for music. We sang when we were young. Daddy taught us his favorite Scottish folk songs and other songs. Mostly, they loved for us to sing as a family and to sing Gospel music. And so, when churches in Tidewater would gather for "Singspiration" the Clark family would usually have a number to sing, even if we were picking it out on the way to the church . . . or on the way to the platform.

So, last night what led us to that moment when our family was gathered in ICU and singing songs of praise together as our father and grandfather and husband was taking his last breaths was a preparation that consisted of years, decades really, pointing in some way toward that moment. The nurse said that in her eighteen years in ICU she has never seen anything like it. And while the evening was punctuated with tears and grief, what dominated the evening was love and hope and peace, which is why as Al Clark crossed over into eternity the song we were singing was, "When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul." And it is.

Looking Up

2009-12-09T21:52:00.004-05:00

The last week or two have not been stellar. I think I can trace the beginning of the malaise to the day I was driving back to the office and was in the outside lane of a roundabout. Before entering said traffic circle I had witnessed sufficient erratic maneuvers on the part of the driver beside me that I had adroitly positioned myself ahead of this person who was in the INSIDE lane of the ROUNDABOUT. Did I make clear that I was now in front of her and in no way in any portion of her blind spot? Imagine my surprise, then, as we were passing the first exit she decided to turn abruptly to the right - directly into my left rear tire and fender!

Well, no one was hurt. Until my foot became inflamed with gout. This is a condition I am fighting on an increasingly frequent basis. It is not related to car accidents. It is a form of arthritis, I am told. It is essentially microscopic crystallized acid that lodges in a joint, usually in a toe or foot. It feels like hundreds of little sharp knives slicing and dicing whenever the joint moves. It is not pretty and reduces the sufferer to a worthless, hobbling, whimpering girly man.

Then my doctor suggested I get a flu shot. Well and good. In fact, no problem, except that the next day my computer came down with the nastiest virus I have ever seen. Coincidence? Well, how about this - while my computer was being treated for its ailment, my Blackberry soured and then spoiled. It was completely unrecoverable - at least as long as my computer, which had the Blackberry back up files on it, was getting healthy.

So, let's review: blindsided, put up in the wall, foot stomped by an internal enemy, shoved off the grid and left isolated from the world by a let down in my technology. Did I mention it was not a stellar couple of weeks?

However, the truth is, I have had a great time. My car was slightly damaged but more importantly, no one was hurt. My foot was sore, but a little more humility and a slightly slower pace to life is not really a bad thing. And not having technology? Well, I did get more reading done and more time spent with friends. Our grandson, Ethan, and I spent a great deal of time playing TIgerWoods (emphasis is his) on our Wii. By the way, we have not and see no reason to tell a 3 and half year old why playing TIgerWoods might not be the best thing anymore. Our other grandson, Toban O'Neal was his normal, easy-going, "who are you, think I'll sleep now" self as we took turns holding him. My wife and I went to see Blind Side - fitting given my recent experience in the roundabout, but a movie that deserves a blog all of its own. If you haven't seen it, go now.

I said my last week wasn't stellar but it turns out maybe it was. I have a friend who says you should aim for the stars so you might at least hit the tree tops. Maybe that's the point of looking for stars. If you keep looking up, you are less likely to miss the good stuff that is up there.

What do I call it?

2009-11-06T12:42:00.003-05:00

Our second grandson was born two Sundays ago. His older brother, Ethan (a Hebrew name meaning strength, or some say, impetuous), was asked what he thought we should name him. He is three and half years old and he is full of ideas - impetuous, I suppose. He had a thought. "We shall call him. . . "

Before I get to that, it puts me in mind of others who have taken on the task of naming. There is Dorothy in the Nemo story who says of the jellyfish, "I shall call him Squishy and he shall be mine." She didn't realize that while squishy he was not friendly and certainly would not be hers. Or there is Dr. Evil and his miniature alter-ego, of whom he said, "I shall call him mini-me." Then there is Adam naming Eve and all the animals. And, well, as I think about it, there is no end to this name calling. Everything we identify with a word or phrase has been named by someone who said, in essence, "I shall call you ____."

So, Ethan was following a well-worn tradition when he named his brother. He thought about what his relationship with him might look like. He thought about what his brother's personality might be like. He thought about what his potential in life might be. OK, maybe he didn't think of all those things. Maybe he just thought of the first thing that came to mind, which it turns out was not really a name, but it might be one that sort of sticks now. "I shall call him ... Tutti-Frutti." That's right - ah Rudy - he is named after a flavor of gum. The sibling rivalry has begun.

Well, their parents (Jordan and Haley Shurr) had other ideas. His "real" name is Toban O'Neal. O'Neal is Buff's (my wife's) mother's maiden name. Toban is from the Hebrew Tobias which means "God is good." I don't know if Jordan and Haley know that. Anyway, it is a really good name, a cut above Tutti - though the competition for what he will actually be called is on.

But I am thinking, as I reflect on all this, we are always naming people and things and even events. And our names often have a way of becoming self-fulfilling prophecies. If we call someone a loser, even if it is just in our own minds, do we help them become that? If we call the situation we are in a lost cause, do we help it to become that?

Jesus said to his disciples, "I no longer call you servants, I call you friends." God has called us his people. We are called Jesus' bride, the holy nation of priests, the temple of his Spirit. I know, I know, we often don't look like those things. But if God says that is what we are, I believe him. And that is what I will strive in the direction of.

How do you call it?

Information Rich - Attention Poor

2009-10-15T14:54:00.003-04:00

So, I had a conversation recently with some friends of mine, centering on the content of an article by Peter Nicholson written for the Globe and Mail. The author is making the case that as the speed with which we can access information goes up, and therefore, the amount of information available to us increases, the equal and opposite reaction is a lowering of the amount of time and attention we are willing to devote to any of the information we receive.

This explains a lot. Maybe I don't have ADD after all. The times I live in, the speed of life, the noise and news and avalanche of knowledge pouring into my little world are just overwhelming. And that's why I need to watch three or four shows at a time, with remote in hand, quickly dodging commercials (except the ones my buddy Tim sells - they are GREAT). I can't afford the time to watch one thirty-minute episode at a time - much less can I devote my full attention to it. I thought the reason I was flipping channels was because the shows were not good and therefore not keeping my attention. Now I know, I need more input - more data.

What this article also pointed out is that while we consume lots of info, because of the way we do it, none of it is at any real level of depth. I can't afford to be deep. There are things to read on FaceBook and news to watch and sports to catch up on and . . .

The author says all this leads to knowing more and more about less and less. He also suggests that while the increase in the flow of knowledge may be a great thing on one level that it portends danger on another - the danger of losing those who are truly experts at anything and currently form the pool of knowledge from which all these shallow streams flow.

But that is at a macro level and describes what we, as a society lose. What do I personally lose when I don't slow down and reflect and give time for facts to develop into thoughts and thoughts into ideas?

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2009-10-01T20:25:00.003-04:00

I know, this is way early to start on Christmas themes, which is why I am not taking it on. But this IS the most wonderful time of the year, for - oh a bazillion reasons, here are a few:

Football has started and we are beginning to see what our favorite pro and college teams are going to do
It is the right temperature and humidity for outdoor activities - not too hot, not to cold
Baseball is heating up - love watching the boys of October, especially if they are from Atlanta (almost made it happen this year)
New TV Season
Did I mention the temperature is right for golf?
Bonfires
Halloween candy allows us to indulge our dark sides
Thanksgiving is around the corner
Most significantly, it is a time of beginning again - School starts, and some people reconnect with their churches. Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year is in September and is closely followed by Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. It is a time to start over.

Like I said, it's the most wonderful time of the year. Well, it is at least a really good time of year, anyway.

Mastering the Art of Blogging About Eating

2009-08-10T20:36:00.004-04:00

Sooooo, my wife, Buff and I went to see Julie and Julia. I know, I am at risk of losing my man card. But an occasional chick flick is required for marital harmony. It didn't kill me, anyway. And I learned some things. And we saw the Julia character and her husband in a park we had visited in Paris. And there were some funny scenes. And it didn't kill me.

Anyway, the premise of the story is that this 30 year old under-achiever decides she wants to grab the brass spatula and write a blog about cooking the recipes in Julia Child's famous cookbook, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," taking a year to complete the project. Quite an undertaking for someone who had never completed a project in her life up until then. But she finished this one, and in the process learned how to become a more complete, loving, gracious, other-centered person.

It turns out it wasn't really about cooking or even eating. It wasn't even about blogging or, perhaps the biggest surprise of all, it wasn't about writing books. It was about relationships and about becoming people who experience life fully.

Well, OK, it was also about eating and cooking and writing. And one of the things that occurred to me is that there are millions of people out there blogging into the nethersphere. I don't think that's a word. Bloggers get to make up their own words anyway. Words like "bloggers."

I have a friend who has started a new website: www.bellydiving.com - it exists to celebrate the small, local restaurant. This is what they say about themselves:

We seek out the places where the owner is often working behind the grill serving up meals that are fueled by their passion and talent. Fresh, often seasonal food, in generous portions, served with love and enthusiasm.

We are about people. Behind every meal and every review on this site is a story. Along with reading the reviews, be sure to check the blog so you can read the "behind the scenes" stories about the good folks that we love.

They are simple activities that are probably never going to bring about world peace, although you never know. But when you consider that these are things that connect you somehow to other people - well, maybe they are all arts worth attempting, at least, to master.

King of Pop Sent Off in Style

2009-07-07T20:54:00.003-04:00

No doubt about it, Michael Jackson was the king of pop. Whatever standard you use to measure it, he is at the top of the charts: biggest selling album, video; largest audience, most awards. He was the king. If possible, he may be even bigger in death than in life. Such is the way of the artist gone too soon. There will never be another.

This king, like most, had his eccentricities, perhaps even flaws. Rumors of a dark side traveled the road he walked. But like most who are bigger than life, he was a complex mix of the humility, ego, grace, inelegance, genius, folly. Maybe it isn't only those who are bigger than life who find themselves mixed up.

So what kind of funeral is fit for a king? It would have to be public to ensure the inclusion of adoring citizens. It would have to be lavish, befitting his position. It would have to reflect the culture and tastes and style of the king and his family. Such was the celebration and memorial of King Michael.

It was emotional, engaging, even entertaining. It joined people to a person who seemed to long for the connection while of necessity being beyond reach. It was personal and poetic. It was musical and moving. It was hopeful and challenging. It was fitting.

Still, the primary thing we take away is that the king is gone. His music and videos will still inspire, but he himself can do no more. His time for making the world a better place is over. Just as it will be for all of us one day. We who are kings and queens of our own little universes are faced squarely with our mortality.

So there is one greater than us. It may be death that overcomes us. Or, it could be that we are subject to the King of all kings who has himself already overcome death. This is the most important royal decree any of us makes and we make it either intentionally or by default, but we cannot avoid declaring a King who is over us: the crypt or the Christ.

The Greatest Problem with Communication. . .

2009-06-02T22:24:00.002-04:00

. . . they say, is the illusion that it has been achieved. The problem is evident on both sides of the communication process.

When we say something that somewhat corresponds to the thing we are thinking, we assume the person(s) we are speaking to have heard and understood. Of course, the first requirement for that to be true would be that they were really listening. The second would be that they somehow could get past their filters and hear what you mean instead of what they think you mean.

On the other side of the process, we think we have heard what someone has said because we heard the words, maybe we have even heard them speak on the subject before, so we anticipate what the message is going to be. We may have a history with the person and/or the subject that predisposes us to jump ahead and make assumptions about what they are going to say, or at least what their meaning and motivations are. Maybe we are so confident about our assessment that we begin to formulate our response to them before they even finish speaking.

We haven't heard them and we don't understand them. It's an illusion - like a magic trick - a sleight of mind.

The remedy? The only way to correct this problem is to slow down. The person who is listening actually has the greater responsibility in the communication process. He/she must listen actively and must stay with the questions until the person speaking feels understood. It is slow and cumbersome and not fun most of the time. But it is the only way that communication ends up being real and true.

Cramming Toward Vacation

2009-05-08T14:25:00.003-04:00

I have always been a crammer. I am driven by deadlines. Maybe I am a procrastinator. I rather think I work best under pressure. My creative juices churn and bubble.

So, it is no wonder that vacations always find me cramming. I cram last minute details in the office - away messages on the phone (and I almost forgot email). Stop mail delivery. Get assignments finished and turned in. Leave instructions as to what to do in my absence. Select books to take. I try to keep it down to 6-8 per week. I will read 5-6 of them in a week - because I am cramming in as much as I can.

Then cram stuff in the suitcase. When traveling to another country, cram language enough that I can get around. Donde esta el bano? You know, important stuff. . .

This is what I do, I am a crammer. I fit as much in as I can squeeze. Although, I am not cramming in everything. I am not cramming in silence. That gets squeezed out, more often. I am not cramming in peace of mind or quiet pace of life.

I may be trying to cram in relationships with the most important people in my life, but if I am cramming them in, can I really have relationship at all? Relationships are demanding things - not the people themselves, necessarily, but relationships, if you are to have them at all demand something. And one of the primary things they demand is that you cannot cram them in among the myriads of other things you are trying to cram into your bag.

So, I am still cramming in more books than I should. But I am slowing down this weekend and just living with the people in my life - no agenda - no time frame - no cramming.

Late to the Party

2009-04-30T08:50:00.000-04:00

So, the Blogosphere is pretty crowded these days. I feel like the cool people have all been at the party for hours and are just about ready to leave to go to whatever is next: the really cool private club or whatever. And I just finally got around to opening the invitation and decided that it would be better to go than to watch another episode of Cash Cab.

I suppose the point of a blog is more about the need to express than the need to be heard anyway and with that in mind, here is my expression. My intent will be to write something about once a week or so. It will be short (those who know me will realize the discipline that will require) and, as the title suggests to the point.

So, here is what I think: better to come to the party late, if it is the right party, than not to show up at all. And I don't really think I am talking about blogging anymore.