Anthrocide

The Sutter High School class of 1969–my class–had its 40th year reunion on Saturday, November 21. Sutter is a very small town with a small high school and our graduating class was fewer than 70 people. Thirty-some attended the reunion and that included some graduates’ spouses.

As reunions go, this one was excellent. Sometimes reunions leave the attendees feeling pretty bummed–those who in school had been jerks are still jerks, those who had been snobs are still stuck-up, and those who had been dorks are still dorky. But not so this class, this reunion. Everyone was warm, personable, unpretentious, and friendly.

We spent a lot of time talking about grown kids, grandkids, and plans for retirement. It is clear that this group that took their diplomas amid handshakes, flashbulbs, and starry-eyed aspirations has had its day in the sun. The baton has long since been passed to the our children’s generation.

None of us found a cure for cancer, flew to Mars, or brought about world peace. But the attendees of the class of 1969’s 40-year reunion turned out to be good people. And, all things considered, that in itself is a pretty impressive accomplishment.

So, here’s to my class. May God richly bless you all. I count it a privilege and a source of pride to be a member of the Sutter Union High School class of ‘69.

First, a follow-up to the America’s Got Talent story.

So, Eeyore won. My pick, Barbara Padilla was runner-up. Interestingly, both had problems with their final performances. Barbara made a tactical error by reprising an operatic solo she had previously done. She needed to show that she could use her thrilling voice to sing something in English for us “just plain folks.” Even an old show tune like “Some Enchanted Evening” would have been a much better idea. Kevin Skinner’s performance was vocally poor; he was flat and off-key in parts. Seriously, now that the story of the sniveling chicken farmer has run its course, only the most hard-core and tin-eared CW fans would pay Las Vegas prices to sit through an hour-plus of listening to him. Better invest that $1 million wisely, Eeyore…

ON THE SPORTS FRONT, time for a quick recap of what’s happening with my teams:

So, America’s Got Talent huh? (Although, from the title one assumes it doesn’t have much in the way of proper grammatical skills or it would be America Has Talent.) Anyway, for those who, like me, have no better sense than to waste their time watching this drivel, here is my take on the finalists from worst to first:

Grandma Lee – Granted my sense of humor doesn’t mesh with a lot of people’s; for example, I don’t find David Letterman the least bit funny. And, granted, I have become convinced that performers who resort to off-color humor do so because they don’t have enough truly funny material. They rely on the shock value of what they say to get audience reaction. Hence, I do not find Grandma Lee funny. She aims her risqué humor at the judges who obligingly pound their desk with hilarity and proclaim her comedic timing “impeccable.” It isn’t; it’s slow and halting and if she were 30 years younger she’d have been dumped long ago. As it is she gets additional shock-value mileage by being 75 and saying what someone that age isn’t expected to. But would her lame old-lady sex jokes, sans judges, sustain a full-length Vegas show? No way, and I wouldn’t go for free. Sorry, Granny, it’s a “no” vote from me.

Kevin Skinner – The human Eeyore. He’s a mediocre singer and at first the aw-shucks human interest angle was somewhat touching. But he has laid that “Ah’m jest a humble hick (sniff, sniff)” stuff on so thick for so long I no longer buy it. An evil part of me sees him offstage after a performance with a martini in one hand and a cell phone in the other saying in plain broadcast English, “Vinny? This is Kev. Hmm? Actually, I thought it went well tonight and, hey, that onion-juice-on-the-guitar-strap idea of yours was pure genius. Gets me teared-up every time. Anyway, did you open that Swiss account for me like I asked you? Super! Need a place to put that cool mil, right? And hey, Vin, have my lawyer tell the producers here I want a penthouse for the Vegas gig…” Back to the chickens, Kevin.

Drew Stevyns – An OK raspy-voiced singer who is thoroughly uninspiring. Since the audience doesn’t vote people off but instead votes for their favorite, I’d say he has zero chance to win unless all the female voters decide his boyish looks merit their votes.

Recycled Percussion – An unusual group that beats on buckets, car parts, and other junk as musical percussion. Although they’re interesting to watch, here’s my problem with their performances: They have one actual musician, a guitarist, but I hear a lot of other background music and sound. So how much of what we hear are they actually producing? Or are they just a flamboyant Milli Vanilli?

The Texas Tenors – Since I am not a fan of country music, trios in cowboy hats do not attract me, although “God Bless the USA” is as country as they’ve gotten so far. When they pull off good harmony (which isn’t always) it’s quite good. They could probably carry a Vegas show (or more likely a Branson show), but I doubt I’d pay to go, even if I was already there.

Lawrence Beaman – Good singer with a deep, mellow voice. However, he has limited range and needs to pick his songs carefully. Cries too much and too easily but he’s the best male singer of the bunch.

Hairo Torres – This guy is amazing for the contortions he can put his quadruple-jointed body through all while performing acrobatic break dancing. Him I’d pay to see.

The Fab Five – Talented group of five twenty-something to thirty-something sisters who can dance up a storm. I’m not real big on watching dance acts but they’re amazingly precise, they’re attractive but modest, and they seem to be having a ball while on stage. The biggest concern with them is that their dancing is so frenetic that after a 2-minute audition performance they’re completely gassed. That being the case, how on earth will they handle a full 60 or 90-minute Vegas show?

The Voices of Glory – Two brothers and a sister (16, 11, and 9 I think) who blend excellently. The little girl has a dynamite voice and is fearless on stage. Their background story is quite touching; you can’t help but root for them.

Barbara Padilla – Operatic singer who is the whole package. Great human interest story of a cancer-surviving wife and mom who sort of came from nowhere. She’s a lovely lady who comes across as incredibly gentle, kind, and caring (okay, okay, she also cries too much and too easily but I’m cutting her some slack). But all that aside, even though I’m no opera aficionado her performances give me goose bumps. I would definitely pay to see her perform and would sincerely hope for a chance to meet her and shake her hand afterwards. Even though an operatic singer won last year, she is by far the most talented of the competition and gets my vote to win it all.

In the Year that is my life it’s September.
Early September.
It’s still summer, you know.
Most people think of it as autumn.
But summer doesn’t end until September is far spent.

Just ignore that silly old tree out past the back fence.
Its leaves turn yellow way too soon—long before the others.
It’s still summer.

It has been an eventful summer.
Since it started I’ve gone from Dad to Father-in-law to Grandpa.
Admittedly, my love and I cannot stoop and pick flowers like we did;
Not like we did when we began our journey together back in the early spring.
That silly old tree already has leaves on the ground under it.
But, really, it’s still summer.

I can’t believe the stores are already displaying Halloween stuff.
How foolish.
Halloween means the advent of cold weather.
Why think about the cold when it’s still summer?
For another week or two.

I don’t look forward to cold weather,
Or achy joints, or short, dark days.
Coats and blankets can’t warm you like summer does.
I don’t look forward to the cold.
And spring will never come again.

But no need to dwell on that now.
It’s still summer, after all.
Even if that silly tree thinks it’s autumn.
It’s not. It’s still summer,
After all.

And yet…
When the Year ends, so will winter.
And I will bask in the glow of a glorious Day,
Warm and bright in the Light of eternal Love.
My Friend will take me by the hand
And I would wonder why I worried about summer’s end,
Except that I probably won’t remember these seasons at all.

I will be too engrossed in His glory to think about something as mundane
As summer, after all.
— D. L. Hamilton

The position of head coach (”manager” in baseball) for a sports team is a peculiar one. No matter how good the coach, the team must have talented players but a coach can make a significant difference. It has been said that a great manager in baseball will maybe win a half-dozen games for a team over a 162 game schedule and a bad one lose about that many. However, I think a truly incompetent manager can have a greater negative impact than that because the aura of losing becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Nevertheless, the impact of the head guy in baseball is not as significant as it may be in the other sports, specifically football where the right or wrong approach to the game and/or playbook can make a team of just above-average players either champions or underachieving losers. In general, though, for the four major sports, coaches are generally responsible for:

A. Team Chemistry. The coach must create team cohesiveness that enables a group of individuals to work together as a unit. This is a bit less significant in baseball since there is frequently only one player from the team on offense involved at one time. But in sports like basketball and hockey, team chemistry is essential.

B. Work and Discipline. The coach must establish when and how much the team will practice, make sure the players maintain conditioning and their focus, and handle problems with and among the players. He establishes how stringent or lax the rules are and whether or not star players get special treatment. He may also be a teacher, although this is less true in the Pro’s.

C. Philosophy. Will this team focus primarily on offense or defense? Will it look for the quick strike, run-and-gun, or use a patient, opportunistic approach. How much are the players expected to decide on their own and how much will the coach control from the bench?

D. Motivation. Players need someone in charge who can build a fire under them, help them recharge their batteries over a long season, and calm them down when things are too tense. While locker-room leadership from players is important, this falls primarily to the coach.

E. Strategy. In football and basketball these are the plays the team has in its playbook on offense and the defensive coverages that they plan to use. In hockey there is a basic method of play the coach establishes and there may be nuances based on the opponent’s personnel and mode of play. In baseball it would involve how they plan to pitch to each opposing player, what each batter can expect from the opponent’s pitcher, and the positioning of fielders. In all cases it involves who starts and who gets how much playing time.

F. Tactics or “Game Management.” Finally, the coach determines what happens while the game unfolds. Substitutions, what play to call or pitch to throw, time management, and what adjustments to make to offset what the opposition is doing are all parts of game tactics.

Having established these, let me assess the coaches of my favorite teams. They are:

MLB - SF Giants, Bruce Bochy
NCAA Basketball - MIZZOU Tigers, Mike Anderson
NCAA Football - MIZZOU Tigers, Gary Pinkel
NFL - SF 49ers, Mike Singletary
NHL - San Jose Sharks, Todd McLellan
And I just can’t generate much of a rooting interest in the NBA.

Below, these teams’ coaches are ranked in order of quality–in my view anyway.

1. Todd McLellan, Sharks, hockey

Team Chemistry - This team truly clicks on the ice. No off-ice issues either.

Work/Discipline - The Sharks win as much because of their hard work as their talent.

Philosophy - Todd’s system is both a proven winner (Detroit) and fits his personnel.

Motivation - They’re not up 100% of the time but rarely coast thru full games.

Strategy - Again, the game strategy works and so do his line combos.

Tactics - The Sharks do a good job of adjusting between periods.

Overall coaching grade: A. Could be A+ or A- depending on playoff outcome.

2. Mike Anderson, MU Tigers, basketball

Team Chemistry - A few off-court issues but minor compared to Quin Snyder. The team clicks.

Work/Discipline - Mike’s system only works if the players outwork the opponent. They do.

Philosophy - His defense-first pressure system is called “40 min. of hell.” It works.

Motivation - They beat KU because at halftime he laughed and told them to just calm down!

Strategy - After Snyder’s stand-around offense, Mike’s strategy is exciting.

Tactics - Mike doesn’t get out-coached during games; he pulls the right strings.

Overall coaching grade: B+. Could be A, A-, or B, B- depending on play in tourneys.

3. Gary Pinkel, MU Tigers, football

Team Chemistry - Gary fosters good chemistry. A few off-field issues but he handles them.

Work/Discipline - Good work habits overall. Defensive mental lapses were too common though.

Philosophy - Offense: Spread works very well. Defense: Glad Eberflus is gone!

Motivation - Good overall but nerves often seemed to be a problem in big games.

Strategy - Playbook is very good when not too cute. Blitzes too predictable & often failed.

Tactics - Improved greatly over the past few years; they even won some in the 2nd half.

Overall coaching grade: B-. 2009, a reloading year, will reveal much about his true grade.

4. Mike Singletary, SF 49ers, football

Team Chemistry - Greatly improved since Mike took over, but he needs to settle the QB issue.

Work/Discipline - Probably Mike’s strongest asset. It’s team-first or ride the pine.

Philosophy - “Smash-mouth” is cause for concern. I prefer scheme-derived success.

Motivation - Another of Mike’s main assets. Even players in his doghouse love him.

Strategy - I expect his defense will get the most from his players. Offense? We’ll see…

Tactics - The 49ers came back to win some, but the Arizona game-end fiasco was worrisome.

Overall coaching grade: C. But to be fair, he has yet to do it all HIS way for a season.

5. Bruce Bochy, SF Giants, baseball

Team Chemistry - Doesn’t seem to be any discontent; revolving door of players doesn’t help.

Work/Discipline - Having so many old players beside rookies keeps things in line.

Philosophy - Limited talent limits options, e.g. can’t play long ball w/o power hitters.

Motivation - Team generally appears a tad listless as if fated to finish near the bottom.

Strategy - Here again limited talent limits roster, batting order, and bullpen options.

Tactics - Bruce seems to do an OK job pulling the strings for what he has to work with.

Overall coaching grade: D. But he needs a team with more talent to assess him fairly.

I have taken the plunge and signed-up on Facebook. I read somewhere that the number of people had reached over 150 million although I don’t know how factual that number is. Based on the number of “Friends” I have accumulated in just over a week I could see how that is true, though. I’m up to 38 but I heard of one teenager who accumulated over 150 in one day!

Facebook can be a bit of a challenge, though. I’m a person who really wants to understand something thoroughly before I use it. I used to drive my sons crazy when they’d want me to play a video game with them. I’d start asking all kinds of “why” questions about what the point of the game was, why I would want to have Mario jump up and touch a coin, what each button was supposed to do and when I’d want to use it, etc., etc. Their response was always, “You don’t have to know all that, you just start playing it!’ Sorry, boys, not my style. I’m finding that there is a lot of stuff in Facebook but knowing how to get to it can be difficult. There are also features that you can only find if you click enough places from enough pages and such. I don’t see quite enough logic to why one thing is accessible from my Home page but something else I get to from Profile. Still, the basics are kinda fun and it’s amazing how closely it tends to suggest that idea about six degrees of separation between any two people on earth might be to the truth.

That said, I can see that Facebook could pull one in to spending a lot of time on it. I, on the other hand, am more of a once-a-day-if-that user at present. As internet accessibility via cell phone becomes more and more common, one of these days I may well be on it throughout the day if I ever switch out my little freebie flip-phone. Anyway, be seein’ you on FB…

Fourth of July weekend Rebecca and I celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary (actually July 7th). While, for our 25th we went on a cruise, as my son Scott put it, we have become totally Mid-Westernized: we went to Arkansas.

Eureka Springs, Arkansas to be exact. For the uninitiated it is home to The Great Passion Play which is a depiction of the final days of the life of Christ.

It is performed in an amphitheater whose “stage” covers close to two acres, part of which is on a hillside opposite the audience. There are several sections of the stage area and speakers have the dialog emanate from the area where the action is focused. Across the hillside is the tomb of Lazarus, Gethsemane, Golgotha, the mount of ascension, and the garden tomb. At the bottom of the hill—the main stage—there is a wide street running in front of the Praetorium, the Temple, the upper room, and various other building facades. This outdoor setting enables realism that an indoor stage could not pull off. For example, in a couple of time-of-Christ street scenes two boys run a flock of over a dozen sheep across the stage. Another time a Roman official rode in on a chariot. Very cool.

But more about the play later. The grounds on which the play is performed have several other items of interest. First, they provide a “holy land tour.” They have set up various venues showing what life would have been like in both Old and New Testament times including a full-size replica of the Tabernacle and various scenes from the life of Jesus. I sort of half expected it to be rather cheesy, but for the most part it was both realistic and informative. They had people in costume portraying various Bible characters who described the various points of interest. One oddity was that the very nice woman portraying Mary Magdalene had a pronounced Arkansas drawl, rendering “the time of the Passover” as “the tahm of the Pace-over.” Definitely worth seeing. Next, there is a “Bible Museum” for which I again had low expectations. To my surprise there were some incredible treasures in there: A genuine Gutenberg Bible (not the very first one, but one from his actual press), a copy of a King James Bible from the first printing of 150, copies of original Tyndale and Wycliffe Bibles, a fragment from the Dead Sea Scrolls, and on and on. I’m thinking, “In Arkansas?” I finally asked how historic documents worth hundreds of thousands of dollars ended up there. The tour guide said the people who established the Passion Play and all the rest were well-off, a lot of the books came from a specific donor, and a lot of the money came from none other than Henry Ford. We also toured their “Sacred Arts Center” on the grounds, a gallery of mostly contemporary Christian paintings and sculpture, many of which were quite fascinating.

When it came time for The Great Passion Play itself, 8:30 p.m., the sky was threatening. An hour into the play lightning began flashing all around. We were on metal baseball-stadium-style seats; not the best for a lightening storm. We had rain ponchos (still around from our last trip to NYR) but they wouldn’t be much use against lightning. At 10 p.m. the play had progressed to the crucifixion scene and, amid the lightning and thunder, it began to rain. Becki and I had spotted an apparatus with wires that looked like what they would use to do the ascension but could not imagine any actor being foolish enough to use it during such a storm. As “Jesus” spoke his final words, “It is finished,” from the cross, the downpour came in buckets. They had special lighting and sound effects to mark the moment of Jesus’ death but they were totally upstaged by the real thing happening then and there. At that moment the lights all came on and an announcer said the performance had been canceled and to please exit. Even covered by the ponchos we got soaked, literally wading to the car. We later got rain-checks for our tickets good for any time in the next two years. We are told the resurrection and ascension scenes we missed are quite spectacular so we definitely plan to go back, maybe this fall.

Our hotel room was very large and quite nice including a heart-shaped Jacuzzi tub. It had an attached German-Czech restaurant with excellent sauerbraten. The next day we poked around in some antique stores and wandered through the “historic downtown” which is where all the hippies from the 70’s ended-up. There are row upon row of little eclectic shops many of which sold tie-dyed items and incense. There were also a ton of bikers in town and many hotel marquees claimed “bikers welcome”; one even said “bikers only.” I wore my Mizzou cap the entire time, daring anyone to comment and ready with my comeback: “I have only two words for you… Cotton - Bowl.” The only person who took the bait was a woman in the Sacred Arts Center who, it turns out, was a closet Nebraska fan. No matter, I rubbed her nose in Mizzou’s shellacking of Big Red too! (Graciously, of course.) However, there were a couple of guys around town wearing Oklahoma Sooner caps whom I, ahem, sort of avoided.

On the way home we stopped at the historic home of Laura Ingalls Wilder, author of the Little House on the Prairie series books. I found it odd that throughout the homes, the museum, and the tour itself not one mention was made that the books had been made into a long-running TV series. Not a single picture of Melissa Gilbert, Michael Landon, nothing. The only reference at all was a DVD or two of some episodes in the souvenir store.

Not Cozumel or Jamaica perhaps but we enjoyed our little anniversary trip immensely. But then, with such a marvelous wife, how could I not?

As we approach Independence Day I would like to address the growing trend of some to try to divorce our nation and its system of government from its Christian roots and make it more and more atheistic.

It is as simple as this: The fundamental concept upon which the United States is founded is stated clearly in the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Notice: “…created equal and endowed by their Creator…” This is not just poetic language. The cornerstone of our nation and its system of government is that we are all equal because God says we are equal.

Yet, aside from Christianity, in what sense is that true? I am not “equal” to anyone reading this. There is a 50% chance I am not the same gender as you. I am probably not the same age as you. I am not the same size, the same looks, the same IQ, the same skills, the same experience, the same health, the same value to society, the same attitudes, accomplishments, aspirations, relationships, background, heritage, likes, dislikes, and on and on. I am not equal to anyone else reading this. Or anyone else in this nation for that matter, and neither are you! So in what sense are we equal?

Apart from the teachings of Jesus Christ in NO sense are we equal! Let’s get real here. From an atheistic perspective, the severely handicapped person who is utterly dependent on others for survival is of far less worth than a famous surgeon who saves the lives of countless people. How then can they be said to be equal?

Within Christianity the answer is simple: Our Creator endows every human being with infinite intrinsic value. That is, “God so loved the world that he gave His only begotten Son…” It is God Who has established that the severely handicapped person is exactly equal in value to the famous surgeon.

But to the atheist the claim that we’re all equal is clearly and demonstrably false. So the atheists are basically saying, “Well, let’s all just pretend we are equal.”

Are you kidding me? The basis of our country and our whole concept of government is “let’s pretend”????

If the forces that would eradicate the God of the New Testament from our nation’s roots succeed, like the story of The Emperor’s New Clothes, someday someone will simply say, “We’re not all equal. Who says we are?” And in the silence that follows, our nation will collapse like a house of cards.

But do not misunderstand. It is not religion in general that establishes our equality but only Christianity. Nearly every other religion on earth establishes the worthiness of its adherents based on their achievement whether spiritual, physical, or relational. This ranking of people is a basic tenet of Hinduism. Other religions such as Islam and even Judaism consider those outside their ranks as unworthy (or even as undesirables whose elimination is laudable). Genuine New Testament Christianity alone acknowledges the infinite worth and equality of every individual. To be sure, those who commit their lives to Christ have an eternal advantage over those who do not, but even the unbeliever is equally loved until and unless, to the end, they are determined not to spend eternity with the Savior Who died for them.

We are equal, because we are equally loved. Because, “…God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

The use of clichés in writing is considered a poor practice, but in everyday speech they are, of course, common—that being what makes them clichés. Few people critique casual conversation (mercifully) so their use in that venue is largely ignored. But some clichés have gotten tangled. What these fractured clichés actually say becomes a nonsensical version of a phrase that at one time was somewhat intelligible.

A common one that has mysteriously engendered some debate is “I couldn’t care less” which has been twisted by many people into “I could care less.” A friend of mine was notorious for this one. The obvious meaning of the original phrase was that the speaker’s level of concern about the matter under discussion was at absolute zero, hence there was no possible way that he or she could have any lesser amount of concern. That is, the speaker cared nothing about the matter or, “could not [possibly] care [any] less.” To leave out the negative makes the statement the opposite. To say “I could care less” communicates at least some degree of concern, similar to saying “I’ve tasted worse” regarding a food item—it suggests more positive than negative. I’ve actually heard people argue over which is the correct version but the answer is obvious.

Another twisted cliché is used when a person is said to have done something just for the sake of chalking up another victory, most often as a rather derisive statement. The phrase is, “He [she] just wanted another notch on his [her] belt.” This usage is nonsensical. The actual phrase intended here is “…notch on his gun.” Anyone who watched movies in the ’40s or movies/TV in the ’50s or ’60s saw plenty of westerns. A common element of westerns was the gunslinger or bad guy who was proud of the number of opponents he had slain in gun duels. For each kill he would callously file a mark somewhere on his pistol. Thus each conquest merited “another notch on his gun.” Since these villains seemingly killed just to prove they could, the saying matched its general usage. Somewhere along the line, however, the result of dieting wherein sufficient weight loss could require one to need a new notch (or hole) farther up his or her belt got intermingled with the saying. Hence, people who score another victory are incorrectly said to have put another notch on their belts, when in fact there is no connection whatsoever between being victorious and belt-tightening.

One other case of mixing two clichés into nonsense is when one says something to the effect of, “When I heard that, a light went off in my head,” the intended meaning being that something dawned on the person. This is an unfortunate mix of “a light came on (or dawned)” and “an alarm went off in my head.” Light as a representation of sudden realization or “enlightenment” undoubtedly goes back to ancient times. For decades cartoons and comic art have used a light bulb glowing over the head of someone as representative of an epiphany or an idea. But in every case it is the light coming ON that indicates someone “getting it.” In an entirely different vein, something—especially something seemingly inconsequential—that suddenly puts one on the alert for trouble is said to have caused “alarm bells [or an alarm] to go off in one’s head.” Although perhaps a bit ironic, it is perfectly normal to refer to the sounding of a siren or an alarm bell as “going off” when it might be more proper to say it came on. Nevertheless referring to a sounding alarm that way is commonly understood and accepted usage. A lamp or bulb going from unlit to lit, however, is NEVER said to have gone “off.” A light that goes “off” is always one that was lit and has gone dark. Thus one who says he or she encountered something that made a “light go off” in his or her head should properly be understood to have suddenly gone stupid in that respect.

Hopefully none of this will be interpreted as me being pretentious. It’s just that I read one of these in a newspaper quote today and, well, a little light went off in my head and I just had to put another notch in my belt even though probably most of you could care less.