First, I must cop to this: I have Shatner issues. Blasphemy, perhaps, but there it is. I liked TNG, and have seen some of the movies (thought "Nemesis" was pretty interesting). I know what a "red shirt" is, what a "tribble" is, and get the basic Kirk/Spock dynamic.
But we went to see the new movie, and I LOVED it. Seriously loved it. Clapped-like-a-second-grader-over-the-closing-credits loved it. This guy has said it so well, I need not say it all again. But read him. He's funny!
...is this book, which I began reading today. If you Lutherans out there have ever found yourselves intimidated by theological jargon, consider this definition:
Angel Divine beings, heavenly servants of God, know as purveyors of godly messages, such as recipes for light and delicious food--cake and impossibly fine pasta, or the somewhat rougher traditions of motorcycle fellowship.
There's a longer exegesis (a word which, sadly, they neglected to define) of the topic, a portion of which won my undying esteem:
In art angels are most often depicted with wings upon the back--sometimes two, sometimes six--but it should be noted that in the Bible, most often do not have wings and seem to appear much like people...if you're wondering whether the six-winged angel flies faster than the other varieties, the answer is no, as two wings are used for flying and the other four to cover eyes and ensure decency (Isaiah 6:2). (Now, whether a laden or unladen angel makes better time remains a separate matter.)
This caused a bit of a spew, as I was reading while eating chicken soup. Consider also:
Justice A condition that most people desire for themselves, claim never to get, and have no interest in granting to their neighbors.
and
Free Will The belief--which you have no choice but to believe--that human beings are free to make their own choices.
Gentle Reader. Buy this book. You KNOW you could use a laugh. Or thirty. I leave you with these thoughts:
1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper! In my gift-giving glory days, I worked for a Hallmark store. Now, if I can get paper all the way around the gift, and a bow slapped on it, I'm pretty happy. To date, I have achieved exactly ZERO shopping for this particular Christmas. Sigh.
2. Real tree or Artificial? Real. Frasier Fir, if possible. Need the smell. Like the short needles!
3. When do you put up the tree? Whenever we can find a couple of unfilled hours in mid-December. Last Sunday afternoon, this time around...though, if circumstances would permit, I'd do it the old-fashioned way, putting up the tree on Christmas Eve and taking it down on the 12th day of Christmas. Oh, well.
4. When do you take the tree down? Whenever we can find a couple of unfilled hours in mid-January...and the gumption, since this is much less fun than putting it up!
5. Do you like eggnog? In a paraphrase of the old Alka-Seltzer commercial: "I like eggnog, but it doesn't like me!"
6. Favorite gift received as a child? Hmmm...I'd have to go with boxed sets of the "Little House" books and five Judy Blume books, whose covers were read right off.
Embarassingly, I have a picture of me at 12-years-old-or-so, looking rather enraptured over Shaun Cassidy's first album. :-)
7. Hardest person to buy for? My sister
8. Easiest person to buy for? Beloved, hands down
9. Do you have a nativity scene? Beloved collects interesting "folk art" sorts of nativity scenes; we have them from Finland, Colombia, the Maasai tribe, lots of places!
10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail, but not 'til Epiphany...it's one of Beloved's favorite projects to write and illustrate a newsy account of our year. She's great at it; they're funny and warm...much more interesting than we actually are!
11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Two words: stretch pants.
12. Favorite Christmas Movie? We have a tradition at our house...Beloved & I watch the following together (usually all in a row) every Christmas week:
A Charlie Brown Christmas
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
A Christmas Story (this goes back decades in Beloved's family)
That'd be a three-way tie for me: I love the neuroses and music of "Charlie Brown," and the last scene where they're all "loo loo loo-ing" together (Beloved & I sent a photo card one year of the two of us doing that); love the "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch" song, and like to root for his little dog; "A Christmas Story" is the single best repository of great cultural-reference lines since "The Princess Bride," and makes me laugh every time.
This scene, BTW, may be the reason I wanted to name my dog Linus; it's the most consistently meaningful cultural Christmas experience of my life:
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Spotty. No good answer.
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Yep.
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Homemade lefse and pepparkakor.
16. Lights on the tree? White, please. Red wooden beads. Ornaments in mostly red and clear-varnished wood, with the exception of Beloved's penguins and my Snoopys.
17. Favorite Christmas song? Situational.
Best CD Anne Sofie von Otter, Home for Christmas. FANTASTIC. Her version of "Dancing Day" alone is worth the purchase price.
Classical Britten's Ceremony of Carols
Congregation Silent Night, done simply and in candlelight. This year, we're having a harp accompany us.
Radio Amy Grant's "Tennessee Christmas" or Michael W. Smith's "All Is Well"
Choir "Before the Marvel of this Night" or the Schulz-Widmar version of "Midnight Clear," both found in the Augsburg Choirbook:
I especially like this verse, which is so relevant this year:
Yet with the woes of sin and strife the world has suffered long; beneath the heavenly hymn have rolled two thousand years of wrong; and warring humankind hears not the love-song which they bring; oh, hush your noise and cease your strife, and hear the angels sing.
18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? It's the most churchiful time of the year (save Holy Week), so we're in town on Christmas Eve (traditional dinner with friends between services), and usually my sister's place on Christmas Day. Big family thing over New Year's weekend, for which we travel.
19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, Rudolph (the most famous reindeer of alllllll)
20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Rodney the Reindeer
21. Open presents Christmas Eve or morning? Whenever we're together is OK with me.
22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? Vacuous parties, the fact that the retail season now starts in September/October, and electronic trees/snowmen/santas/ reindeer/penguins/night-of-the-living-ceramic-carolers beeping out carols.
23. Favorite ornament theme or color? Red!
24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? Swedish meatballs, mashed potatoes, green been casserole (with crispy French onions), lefse, a pretty tossed salad with pomegranates, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie with real whipped cream. Mmm.
25. What do you want for Christmas this year?
A light that shines through these rather dark times.
Peace on earth.
Safe travel for everyone.
Time to sit down and just BE with Beloved and the pups.
Practically speaking, more memory for the computer...so we can install the operating system upgrade...so that I can use my new orange iPod.
It's as if the universe is trying to tell me something. Twice this week, I've been lifted out of myself by a cellist.
I was not exactly ripe for the picking; work has been stressful, I'm still pretty tired from the big Holy Week push, and our house is a mess (to the point that I'd actually be grateful if the dirty dishes ran away with the spoons!). In short, I'm not at the top of my game this week.
Maybe that's exactly when this sort of thing happens.
Thursday night, Beloved and I went to see the Minnesota Orchestra in concert (as it was her birthday yesterday–HB, Babe!). Excellent program, including one of my favorite pieces ever: Dvorak's B minor Cello Concerto. I was a cellist for about 12 formative years, and this piece in particular was a source of complete bliss at a very difficult time in my life. I'd shut myself in my high school bedroom and listen raptly as the conversation started again between the capering cello and the plaintive French horn. Whatever my frame of mind when I started the cassette(!), by the time it was over I'd experienced some serious reframing. Cosmic, consuming joy within my reach.
Hearing the Dvorak in person was an event I'd dreamed of since I was sixteen. And it was an amazing performance. There was a substitute soloist called in to cover for the illness of the original guy, and I liked him before he even began to play. There's a long orchestral exposition before the soloist enters, and this young guy was turned halfway around in his chair, with his eyes closed and a huge grin on his face while the orchestra teed him up. I got the impression that he'd never been as happy to be anywhere as he was in that moment, and that instead of being nervous or stuffy about his role as a classical soloist, he was sitting in with some really great friends, loving every second of it. The music was glorious–he and the conductor received five ovations before intermission. Tears on many faces, and shouts of "BRAVO!" rang through the hall.
And, all of a sudden, I was that kid again, spellbound and at peace, in spite of everything. I saw a singer/songwriter named Rachel Garlin not too long ago who named this experience for me (play track 7 at the link if you'd like to hear it):
Now we're pulling back and forth on our childhood joy and our childhood woe like a long bow playing the cello.
And then there's August Rush. Simply a radiant movie. Loved the beautifully conceived and shot opening sequence. Loved the soundtrack. Loved the fact that the actors (who were playing professional musicians) had actually learned to play "their" instruments. They also happened to be the ones that I play: there were several guitarists and a cellist, and not once was I lifted out of the story by obvious musical fakery. Gratitude for that...but even more for the expansive, magical feeling of the entire experience. It went well beyond storytelling and became an invitation to experience the music that's present all around us, every minute–witness this conversation between Wizard, sort of a Fagin-like character to a bunch of musical-but-lost kids in NYC, and Evan, an 11-year-old just discovering his prodigious musical gift, as they stare up at a star-filled sky:
W: Know what's out there? A series of higher tones. It's arranged by nature, governed by the laws of physics of the whole universe. It's an overtone, it's an energy, it's a wavelength--and if you're not riding it, good Lordy! You'll never hear it. E: Where do you think it comes from–what I hear? W: I think it comes from all around you, really. Comes through us–some of us. It's invisible, but you feel it. E: So only some of us can hear it? W: Only some of us are listening.
Tune in, friends. It's the beat of your heart, the song of the birds, the thump of the tires on the street, the cry of the neighbor's baby, the tink-tink of the chain link fence, the roar of the wind, the rustle of the leaves, the bang of the machinery. Stand still. Close your eyes and listen. Really listen. Nature combined with the sounds of our living–the pitch, the rhythm, the random call and the steady groove–what's the soundtrack of your day?
I dare you to find out. It's impossible to know the answer to that question and to not feel connected to the world around you...and also like you're soaring above it.
I'm not a Trekkie, but I play one in this post.
