The Shack

The Shack by William P. Young

There's a website: http://www.theshackbook.com/

I had to think some about what I wanted to write about this book.

As nearly as I can tell this book was first published for public consumption a little over a year ago. The author, William P. Young or "Willie" as he apparently prefers, writes that he originally wrote the book for his children. Willie has a blog, WindRumors, that I personally think carries a very cool name.

My daughter insisted that I read the book and I have rarely, if ever, failed to do something she's asked. She found the book very stimulating as to her own spiritual development. She also let me know that a good many others have felt the same way and, in fact, have purchased enough copies to propel it to 8th place on Amazon of all books and 1st place in several categories. There are 924 reviews as of the date of this blog entry. That's a lot.

I was interested that there were a lot of 1 star reviews for such a popular book with an overwhelming number of 5 star reviews and very few other stars. So most people that bothered to review were wildly enthusiastic but there was a smaller group that was wildly negative and relatively few in between.

It wouldn't get 5 stars from me but it wouldn't get a 1 star either. I think I would give it 3 or maybe 4.

I am very glad I read this book regardless of the stars.

The book opens with some information about the protagonist, Mack. He is a child of a "mean-drunk" father. Mack, as a child, confides in a church counselor that he didn't stop his father from beating his mother and feels guilty about it and confesses this information as a sin. But the church person doesn't maintain the confidence and when Mack gets home he is beaten for a week. Later he leaves home after poisoning all of his father's bottles of booze. He says his father died of natural causes and that leaves the reader wondering if Mack killed his father and the question is really never answered although it is resolved.

Mack grows up, marries and has children of his own and near the beginning of the book the entire family goes on a camping trip. A canoe accident causes Mack to have to save his son from drowning but distracts his attention from his youngest daughter, Missy. She, during that brief interlude, is kidnapped. Later her bloody dress is discovered in an old shack (hence the name of the book) and other evidence points to her death at the hands of a serial killer. Mack blames himself for her murder and for his failure to be able to protect her.

Four years later Mack receives a note in his mailbox from "Papa" which is his wife's name for God. The note invites Mack to come to that very same shack for a visit. Mack decides to accept the invitation but decides to go alone and makes certain his wife and family are out of town so he can avoid uncomfortable explanations.

He does go and he does meet God who appears to him in 3 persons. The person who represents God the Father is a rather large black woman. God the Son appears as Jesus, a middle-eastern Jewish carpenter. God the Holy Spirit is also present as a nearly transparent Asian woman.

I'll not provide any more details in case someone wants to read the book.

If I had to pick one word to describe the book it would be relationship.

And I think that the most useful thing that Willie has done with this book is to highlight the importance of relationship in the Christian faith.

He did it in an imaginative and interesting way, too. That's why I would have to award at least 2 or 3 stars.

The other thing that I find so useful is that his story makes one think about God in unique and somewhat uncomfortable ways. That's worth at least one more star in my opinion.

The story is not really riveting and sometimes seemed slow and tedious to me. The character development lacks for me as well. It was a bit preachy for my taste.

But I found the book to be greatly rewarding and I recommend it to anyone who is prepared to open his or her mind and think about God and relationship in a way that might be a bit unnerving.

I thought about my relationships as I read the book including my relationship with God. But more often I thought about my human relationships.

I have some really good Internet relationships. I've yet to meet a single one of my Internet friends face to face. Yet, I know them as friends and trusted confidants. If someone asked I could describe certain elements of their character. I know a surprising amount about them. And yet I know nothing either.

My appreciation for them does not rest on what they've done for me or not done. Rather it is very much based simply and entirely on this interesting relationship we all have created among us.

If you get the time then try reading The Shack.

Stephen R Covey's 7 Habits of Highly Successful People - No 4

I was reminded the other day how much I value Stephen R. Covey's 7 Habits of Highly Successful People.

The 7 habits are: Be proactive, begin with the end in mind, first things first, think win-win, seek first to understand and then to be understood, synergize, sharpen the saw.

Some of these are a bit hard to describe simply but they really are simple concepts.

I've especially benefited personally from No. 4, Think Win-Win. There is a description that I copied down:

The person who thinks this way possesses the following character traits:

1. Integrity: sticking with your true feelings, values, and commitments
2. Maturity: expressing your ideas and feelings with courage and consideration for the ideas and feelings of others
3. Abundance Mentality: believing there is plenty for everyone

So many of our society seem to believe just the opposite. There was a time not so long ago and maybe it is still happening where people played these mental survivor games. The question would be something like "You're stranded on a small boat and there's only room for 3 but there are 6 people; so, who do you throw overboard?" I absolutely hate that thinking. Live or die, sink or swim, fail or succeed - we should all do it together.

Where I benefited from this most strongly was a few years ago when I was approached by a couple of big box retailers about buying some of Dad's land. We weren't selling anything at the time because we'd promised we wouldn't (we being me and my brother).

Generally we were approached by people representing developers who would themselves benefit from a project on behalf of the big retailers. Several of these tried to set it up as a competition between our land (location really) and other locations around us in our general area. In other words their approach was if you don't do this now at our price then your neighbor is going to beat you to it.

That approach didn't work well on me because it felt like I was being threatened and intimidated and that makes me resist. Yes, it scared me, too. I didn't want to make the biggest mistake of my life and ruin my own life and the lives of everyone I knew and so on - which was basically the way the choice was described. I didn't have a lot of confidence in my own business ability either.

But a good friend was a Stephen Covey fan and he persuaded me to read the 7 Habits and then we talked about thinking Win-Win and especially the abundance mentality.

That changed everything for me. I no longer feared my decision but felt empowered to make it. If one of the big boxes chose another site then there was still another and if that one chose another site then that still left me with a piece of ground nearby.

Anyway the other day I happened across someone who was thinking in the old win-lose way and that everything is scarce and there isn't enough and so on. So I tried to pass on the lesson I'd learned several years ago.

Thought maybe I'd blog about it.

In The Land of Make Believe

Dad used to say that quite often. Usually it was when we were watching some TV show.

He wasn't much of a fiction fan. So he was quite fascinated that so much energy and effort was expended by others on making up stories and then more energy by those who watched. I sometimes get involved with my books and my TV shows and kind of move a little with the action in fight scenes - if you can imagine me doing that. Dad thought that was just hysterically funny although he wasn't exactly the guffawing type himself.

I was reminded of this the other day when I was visiting with my brother and my son. My brother's computer had crashed and all my efforts to revive it had proved futile. So we were at Starbucks for what I suppose was a kind of computer wake. We were enjoying our respective drinks: Raspberry Mocha for my son, Cafe Mocha for my brother, and black coffee for me (with a shot of course).

I think my brother mentioned a book he began reading and the author's political commentary right at the beginning angered him so he stopped right there. It was some book about the revolutionary war or civil war or some such. My brother loves history.

We used to joke about his love of history manifested in his need to stop by any cemetery on the way to where he was going. He especially loves Civil War and Revolutionary War cemeteries but nearly any cemetery will work. Now, I, too, have an appreciation of cemeteries and have been known to stroll through one on occasion. That's just an aside - some color I guess.

Back to my story. I probably countered with the telling about some work of fiction I was reading but I've forgotten exactly. Anyway he mentioned that he didn't really enjoy reading fiction. My son said he didn't like fiction much either. That made me repeat Dad's often said statement. Then I was more surprised that my brother did not recall Dad saying that.

Dad said it a lot. I can hear him saying it and in my mind's eye I can see him saying it: "In the land of make believe" with a kind of puzzled, bemused expression on his face.

So I wanted to blog about it in case I forget it. Because I thought it was kind of cute then and it seems even cuter now.

Present, Past, Future

Not too long ago my mother-in-law had to visit an ophthalmologist about her vision in one eye. I was the designated driver and moral support staff for my wife.

Just to find the building which was "conveniently" located at a hospital (and identified by letters on a map - never a good sign); and then, to navigate the valet parking; and then, to find the office in a high rise; and then, to complete the forms and so on was not a small, simple task.

Yes, I know that was a needlessly long and complex run-on sentence and I did it deliberately.

When you find yourself at age 60 being the youngest person in a waiting room it is a bit unnerving. I wondered how those other (older) people found the place given the complication of location coupled with the problem of vision.

I observed one new patient tell the receptionist he would have to have someone read him the questions on the SEVEN page entrance form with especially small font type. She seemed surprised. I thought to myself, "it is an ophthalmologist office after all" and the font is about the size on a medicine bottle label.

Back to my patient though. The ailment I think was pretty serious but apparently treatable. Did you know they can give you an injection in your eyeball? Well they can - with a long syringe.

The eye condition was just the beginning though because a few days later it was joined by a broken wrist. It turns out that a wrist is a fairly important part of the body for doing quite a bit of stuff. And the doing of that stuff is considerably hampered by the addition of a rigid, fiberglass cast to the said wrist.

So we've been helping out. I will offer a few examples of said helping.

Something I had kind of forgotten about caregiving returned to me fairly quickly. And that is that caregiving is nearly all about pleasing someone else. This leads to some interesting exercises.

For instance, let's consider tomatoes. In my world they either come from a grocery store or a restaurant in the rare instance that I might actually require some. But in my alternate world they come from a garden. In my world they are washed and eaten. In the alternate world they are peeled. I do not enjoy peeling tomatoes. I do not think the tomatoes enjoy it either.

In my world there is one old cat which is not mine but which seems to appreciate me feeding her. Feeding is opening a can and plopping the contents thereof into a bowl. The same bowl resides in the garage and the cat is responsible for any cleaning. In my alternate world there are three dogs. There is a detailed SOP for feeding them - each one has a different plan. And I have to clean the bowls but without washing. Water is dispensed for the dogs by the gallon bucket by the way. Dogs also have ticks - lots of ticks - notwithstanding treatment of dogs and environment.

Also in this alternate world there are different, strange rules about trash. Cans go one place but paper goes another. Trash bags have their own place of safekeeping not necessarily logical to my view but definitely safe - at least from me.

Grocery shopping is similarly detailed both as to brand and size.

I admit to enjoying every minute of this experience. Maybe enjoy isn't exactly the right word - maybe more like appreciate.

For one thing it reminds me of taking care of mom and dad and especially so in the "good" earlier times. It does make me miss them both so much. Especially Dad but Mom, too.

For another there is something peculiarly rewarding about doing something for someone that makes them happy and helps them and for no other reason than that. There is a sense of reward in helping those who require it.

There is a future element. It bothers my spouse more than me I suppose because she wonders if this is the beginning of her next phase of caregiving and it is her mother after all. And the pressure is on her and not me and there is pressure make no mistake about that. Caregiving in many ways is about responsibility more than it is about the work itself. It is the responsibility that it is the more powerful I think but is sometimes lost amid the sleeplessness and the tiredness.

Then there's the hopefully more distant future when I glimpse myself being the one who needs the help. Still, that's always with my mind intact. I just can never bring into focus what it might be like for me to be the Alzheimer's patient.

I had to get new glasses myself the other day. I think it is funny that I somehow never qualify for the 2 for $99 or whatever it is special. Mine always cost more. Not that I went there for the price in the first place. He's the son-in-law of a friend who used to be a neighbor before her home's location became a bank. Her daughter was my "senior shopper" for a long while - even before I, myself, became a senior. Since I do my own shopping now I suppose I must be considered a senior shopper. A little humor, very little.

I was sitting there for the fitting of my new spectacles (cool word you seldom hear) and there was this little plasticized sheet of print of various sizes. On the left side it had the performance level for your sight (like 20/200 or something) and then there was the same sentence in that corresponding size and then there was something on the right side but beats me what. And it ranged from big print at the top and little tiny print at the bottom.

Of course, I, being still somewhat competitive, looked at the bottom where the line for 20/20 appeared. Barely appeared that is. I said to the girl helping me, "Am I supposed to be able to read that line?" She said, "Well, almost no one can." I moved the paper until I could read it. It said I was supposed to hold it at 40 cm. If I recall correctly that's about 16 inches. I had to get it closer than that to read it. It said that was medicine bottle size type.

Good grief.

Estelle Getty

Estelle Getty, who played Sophia on The Golden Girls, died July 22, 2008. She suffered from Lewy Body Dementia that had previously been diagnosed as both Alzheimer's and Parkinson's. Those of us who know something about Alzheimer's and Parkinson's also understand how the Lewy Body could be diagnosed as either.

I'm blogging about this because I have read several articles that included reports criticizing her Golden Girl costars for not attending her funeral.

I became so irritated at reading these reports.

I think that anyone who has lost someone close to dementia can very easily understand not attending a funeral for the person.

That's all I'm going to say about it but I am still fuming.

Empty

When a cabinet or closet is entirely empty,
my daughter puts a little sticky note on the door.

Says it all pretty much.

Randy Pausch: The Last Lecture

Randy Pausch (October 23, 1960 - July 25, 2008)

He died Friday, July 25, 2008 of pancreatic cancer.

He is known for The Last Lecture which was (maybe is) a series at Carnegie Mellon University. The idea for the series was if you knew this was your last lecture then what would you say.

Except that for Randy Pausch the lecture he gave on September 18, 2007 was his last because he knew he was dying and knew he had a relatively short time.

His lecture was entitled "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams." One reason he wanted to do it was so his kids could see him in action doing what he loved and was good at and have something to remember him. They are so young that at best their memories will not be very great. I'm certain in future years that they will be very interested in the video of their father's lecture.

You've probably heard about it the lecture. It is worth watching.

He wrote a book along with Jeffrey Zaslow titled "The Last Lecture." I just finished reading it.

I was surprised that there were 12 negative (well 1 star is the lowest you can give) ratings on Amazon's reader reviews.

Okay, I'll grant that his book is not great literature. But I personally found it inspiring and entertaining and informative and an all around good read.

I'm trying to think of just a few things about the book that I want to blog: things that made the book memorable for me and that I will likely carry with me for a while.

Certainly one thing is a chapter about Randy the child asking his parents permission to decorate the walls of his room. He was given that permission and the first thing he did was to write the formula for a quadratic equation on the wall next to the door. On the other side he painted an elevator door with lights for 6 floors and illuminated the 3rd one - in a single story ranch! The quadratic equation is something I might have done had I enjoyed my own wall. Heck I might still put up a quadratic equation. Or the function symbol - I like it a lot.

I enjoyed the chapters about his becoming a Disney Imagineer and achieving his dream of being weightless and the courtship of his wife. I also enjoyed the chapter about his football coach. And the chapters about his children.

Chapter 60 (I guess I recall that number because of recent events in my own life) was about his wife as caregiver, kind of. I was particularly interested in that one.

There's a chapter where he learns the cancer is back and has metastasized. He and his wife have been called to the hospital and are sitting in this examination room waiting on the doctor. There's a computer there and Randy is a computer guy. So he looks at it and recognizes his scans. He understands and tells his wife, "My goose is cooked." He starts counting the tumors on his liver. She says something like "Don't tell me you are counting tumors" which, of course, he was. They collapse in each others arms crying and the doc walks in.

I was fascinated with that chapter because he was balancing the emotional involvement of knowing he was dying on the one hand with the detachment of the curious observer on the other. I bet every Alzheimer's caregiver can appreciate that chapter or at least I certainly can.

He was a member of the Unitarian Universalist Association but was raised Presbyterian. There is an interview here if you are interested in reading his thoughts on faith.

They put him in hospice on Thursday and he died on Friday.

Fort Blanket

My daughter is cleaning out the house for us.
While she's doing that her kids are playing in a fort made
of mostly hand sewn blankets and coverlets.

Tractors

Misanthrope

This is a cool word.

Are you ready?

Someone who dislikes people in general.

Is that cool or what?

What Is A Blessed Life?

Someone took a camera and went out on the streets here and began asking random people "what is a blessed life?"

The first guy said he thought it was when you could fail and then get back up again. Another person said it was when you had achieved the "American dream." And yet another said it was when you had plenty of money and someone else said it was when your life was full with friends and family. There were a few others as well but everyone had an opinion.

I thought it was an interesting topic for me to think about. And when I think I have to blog.

I know this fellow who will answer to the question "how are you?" with the phrase "blessed and highly favored."

Then there's a song I listen to sometimes where the author says he's blessed but all of God's children feel the same way and there's no waiting in line.

The Bible has a good many references to bless and blessing and blessed. In fact there are really too many for my blog entry.

Jesus uses "blessed" in His sermon on the mount. It is pretty interesting and called the beatitudes:

Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.
Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied.
Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when men hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil, because of the Son of Man.

This doesn't seem to support the idea of current successes or rewards constituting the blessed life.

I've known people who were rich beyond imagination and thought they were cursed rather than blessed. Then I've known some others who were really, really poor and they thought they were blessed beyond measure.

We were talking the other day about a book we read in school years ago. It was Silas Marner by George Eliot. I remember that George Eliot was a woman although I do not recall her real name. (Don't have to remember as long as I have Internet access.)

Silas Marner has a tragedy befall him early in the story. As a result he becomes kind of a hermit and a miser. But then he finds this toddler whose mother has died. This was before the Department of Human Services so he just kept the baby. She, the child, grows and becomes the apple of his eye and the pride of his community. His life is tremendously changed for the better because of this little girl.

So was the death of the girl's mother a blessing or a curse? Were the bad events that befell Silas blessings or curses?

In my own life if I had not married early I would not have my children and they would not have their children. If I had not divorced I would not have cared for my mom and dad and I wouldn't have met and married my wonderful Judy.

Kind of depends upon the perspective doesn't it?

I know my life is blessed.

Maybe it is one of those things that people say "I can't define it but I know it when I see it."

Owls - My Photos

Owls

I saw two on Sunday, July 20, 2008.

It was in the late evening and it was dusky. I think it was about 8:30 p.m. perhaps. I was taking a bucket containing pieces of vegetables and some old fruit down to the creek north of the barn.

As I was approaching the area near the old silo the first owl flew from the barn or from a tree near the barn to another large tree north of the road. I thought it was a hawk at first.

I disposed of my burden over the fence and began to walk back to the house. The second owl swooped down in front of me then and landed in a tree just north of me. I turned and looked at him (I'm pretty sure because he was smaller than the first) for several seconds. He just looked back at me.

Then I walked on back up the hill towards the house. I heard a squawking of a Mocking Bird and turned my head back towards the barn. Just in time I saw my owl swoop from his perch and catch something from the yard over which I had just seconds before walked. I could not tell what he had. He landed in the tree just against the barn. The Mocking Birds were going crazy and eventually drove him from that tree.

Later when we were leaving the house and walking to the car I saw him again.

I had to borrow the image from Wikipedia.

So the next day I took my camera with me and went down to the same place but no owls were to be seen.

So I walked inside the old barn and stood very, very still for a few minutes.

It was dark and my eyes adjusted after a bit. Finally, I saw him in the highest possible rafter at the north end of the barn.

It was very dark there. If he had not been white I think I would not have seen him. I took six images but they are not so good. I found the one to the right on Wiki. These guys are called Barn Owls or Monkey Face Owls.

I read that they are among the most common vertebrates on the planet.

I walked down on Tuesday to see if he was still there and he was. But as soon as he saw me he flew away. I felt kind of bad about it actually.

Silver Anniversary

Not my Silver Anniversary.

That band across the left top of the washer says "Silver Anniversary."

This is a 1976 model washer but I have no real idea what the silver anniversary is celebrating. Maytag began in 1907. Alas, Maytag is owned by Whirlpool.

Anyway it died the other day. We had the repair guy out - not the Maytag guy either. A local guy.

He said he could get a new motor but there was no way to get a timer and we needed that as well. So I guess 32 years is pretty good for a washing machine.

The matching dryer is still going though.

Did you know you could watch videos on YouTube about Maytag washers?

Amazing.

Thoughts on Prayer

I was sitting there on the pew in church last Sunday. I began thinking about prayer. That in itself isn't so strange as I often think about prayer, and other stuff for that matter, while sitting in church.

Thinking and day dreaming have never been that far apart for me. Church is often a good time for me to fall into the thinking-day dreaming-praying-zoned out state of mind. I suppose it isn't very spiritual but it is better than sleeping. That makes me think of Pollyanna.

I suppose what prompted the thinking was maybe the act of praying or something was said about praying. I don't know what it was exactly.

Do you get asked for things?

I do sometimes. I guess the main thing I am asked for is money. I get asked for other stuff, too; but, I was thinking more about getting asked for money for this blog post. I think I used to be asked more for advice than I am now. It always irritated me when people would ask for advice and then not take it. So maybe it's better to not be asked for advice since no one ever took it anyway. I think it is a good idea to keep advice to yourself most of the time. It's taken me 60 years to figure that out so those of you who are younger can have that advice for free (HA HA).

But back to my topic.

Now I'm kind of making this up in a literary sense - borrowing here and there from fact and imagination.

So someone rings me up (sounds English doesn't it?) and a lot of times I haven't heard from them in a while. So there's some "catching up" conversation first. Then, often, there is a description of some general stuff about life that kind of sets a context. That's followed by the description of the crisis event. Then there's the "obvious" solution to the crisis which is something like "can I borrow $$$?" which is the sum needed to fix the crisis, at least in the mind of the asker.

Anyway I was thinking about how similar sometimes my own approach to prayer:

Oh God?

How you doing? Sorry I haven't been around in a while. Been really busy and all. You know how it is.

Speaking of which my life has just really sucked the last few weeks - just one problem after another - and some of these people in my life - good grief - could I use some help with them. Not sure what you were thinking when you made them. Not that I'm being critical mind you because I love them to pieces and thanks for them - anyway.

On top of all that the other day the car's transmission went out and Janey's house needs a new roof and Billy's wife filed for divorce and Abner has been arrested for DUI and Peter lost his job.

Then yesterday I found out I have to pay a credit card bill I didn't realize I owed.

Could you maybe get me $53,252.33 to get me out of this little mess? If you could just have it materialize in the mail box that would be lovely.

Oh, yes, I ask it in Jesus' name. Thanks Lord. And see you later.

Something that always occurs to me when I'm asked for things is why I wasn't consulted before the crisis. If I had been then, maybe I could have helped the person avoid the crisis in the first place. But afterwards is a little late to think about that.

Then I think it would be nice to have someone call me before they need something - you know - just to visit a few minutes ever once in a while. You get kind of leery about even answering the phone when the only time someone calls is to ask you for something or another. You kind of get the idea that it isn't you the other person is really interested in.

It doesn't hurt to ask how I'm doing either ever once in a while. I have problems.

Also I find it useful to discuss the crisis so I can help the person arrive at a solution rather than just be told what the solution is. For instance, let's discuss that 20 year old car you want to spend $5K on for that transmission. According to the KBB site the thing in mint condition is only worth $500. Now does spending $5K really seem all that prudent? Maybe we can find some alternatives if we think about this together for a bit.

Another thing is that if you really don't intend to repay the money then don't call it a loan. A loan is something you repay. If you can't or won't then it's a gift and we might as well be clear about it right up front.

Another thing that occurred to me is that prayer is kind of like having some really important person's cell phone number. For instance let's say you were really good friends with (I'm going to try to keep this from being political) Jay Leno. In fact, you are such good friends that he gave you his personal cell phone number and you can just call it anytime and Jay answers it by saying your name. I bet most of us can't do that. Even if we knew the number the chances of getting our call answered are relatively low given the fact of caller id. But that's what prayer is like - having God's cell number and being in His circle and Him recognizing your caller id.

That's pretty much it - all I thought about - before the sermon.

Tamar

The Tamar I am writing about is a daughter of King David. I'm paraphrasing and probably pretty badly. But you can read it yourself in 2 Sam. 13 if you want.

King David's oldest son was Amnon. Amnon became obsessed with his beautiful half-sister, Tamar. He claimed to be in love with Tamar and because he could not have her he made himself sick. His friend noticed something was wrong and finally Amnon told him the truth about his "love" for Tamar.

The friend had an idea. Amnon was to go to bed and pretend to be sick and when his dad, the King, came to see about him then he would ask the King to send Tamar to come to his place and make his favorite meal for him and that would make him feel better. (Well first of all you can see right off that this isn't love but lust. And secondly the whole plan is nutty. And thirdly "favorite meal to make him feel better - OMG!!!" And fourthly these guys sound like escapees from some awful animal house fraternity.)

King David did come to see his sick first born son and Amnon asked for Tamar and the King commanded it to be done. (King or not I think David was a fool and I also think he was a misogynist.)

So Tamar came in and fixed Amnon's favorite meal - apparently dumplings. (Actually my mother wanted me to fix chicken and dumplings for her one time. I had never fixed dumplings so I found some at Black Eyed Peas and brought them home. So maybe it isn't so crazy after all.)

When she was done then Amnon made everyone else leave and asked Tamar to bring the food into his bedroom. She did and he raped her. (So his idea of love was definitely lust. Also I left this out but he made a big deal out of her being a virgin which may have meant that she was young and virginal. Creep.)

It was forcible, too, because it is noted that Amnon was much stronger than Tamar. (It says that in the account that he was much stronger - double Creep.)

King David finds out but does nothing. (Triple Creep!!!)

Absalom, Tamar's full brother, also finds out and he tells Tamar to keep quiet about it. Absalom is not very sympathetic though because he tells Tamar not to take it so hard. (Quadruple Creep!!!!) Regardless, Tamar ends up living with Absalom and the account says she was bitter and desolate. (You can't really blame her much. What a family.)

Later on Absalom throws a sheep shearing party and invites all this brothers including Amnon. When Amnon gets drunk then Absalom orders his servants to kill Amnon and they do.

Absalom hides out for about 3 years.

Not that is one terrible story. There are just any number of things one could write about from this story.

One thing that struck me was that Amnon had been so in love with Tamar that he was sick over it. But then he rapes her and instead of being happy about it his so called love turns immediately to hate.

You know that does happen, too. People claim to be madly in love with each other and then they go to divorce court and say the most awful things about, and do the most awful things to, each other that can be imagined.

Anyway that's the story of Tamar.

Parking Meter

We had the first one apparently. It was installed July 16, 1935 in Oklahoma City.

I should have posted this about 4 days ago but that's the way it is I guess.

It had been patented a little earlier by Carl C. Magee who had been appointed in 1933 to the Oklahoma City Traffic Committee.

Magee was an editor of a newspaper from what I can determine. He put up $500 for a contest to create the meter and Oklahoma A&M professors H. G. Theusen and Gerald Hale apparently did just that.

It appears that Magee and Hale and others formed Dual Parking Meter Company and then it later became Magee-Hale Park-O-Meter. It was sold to Parkometer Co. of Russellville, Ark., now known as POM Inc.

Zero Hour Bomb Company

I was interested in an article I read the other day and thought I'd share it.

The article was about the Zero Hour Bomb Company out of Tulsa, OK. I had never heard of this company, at least by that name.

It seems as though in 1932 the Zero Hour Bomb Company had a patent for electrical time bombs used in the oil patch practice of fracturing. This is where a bomb is set off against a formation of oil bearing rock thereby shattering or fracturing the rock and allowing the oil to be recovered.

Sometime after the war the company was looking for new things to manufacture. This fellow, Jasper R. Dell Hull, came along in 1949 wanting a job or so the story goes. Anyway R D Hull had invented a fishing reel of sorts by essentially putting a couple of tin cans together so that the fishing line could unwind between the two faces and thereby avoid tangling.

Everyone was pretty impressed I guess because they changed the name of the company to ZEBCO and began manufacturing the reels.

Who'd a thunk it.

Far Infrared Sauna

I bought one of these and put in the new house.

It really is a nice piece of equipment. The temperature is a maximum of 140. Usually I've been starting at 120 and staying for 15 minutes and then waiting 15 minutes and repeating at 130 and then resting again and finally going for 140 at 15 minutes.

It is really invigorating I think.

Since it is infrared it doesn't really heat up the room its in and doesn't seem to use a terrible amount of electricity.

Satire

This is a picture of the cover of the July 21st issue of New Yorker magazine.

It is supposed to be Barak Obama dressed as a Muslim giving his wife a knuckle touch. (I've heard some people call this a knuckle bump but I looked in a couple of sources and a knuckle bump appears to be different than a knuckle touch. The bump has something to do with cocaine apparently whereas the touch is a gesture of affirmation and celebration. And you all thought I was too old to know about popular culture - ha!) (Actually I've never ever given anyone a knuckle touch)

Michelle Obama is dressed to remind one of a young Angela Davis with an afro and an AK-47 slung over her shoulder. Angela Davis gained significant notoriety in the late 1960's and early 1970's in case someone might not know about her. Just suffice it to say that she is an iconic, very far left radical dissatisfied with the United States and willing to support organizations committed to radically changing the government of the United States.

The setting is apparently the White House and there is an American flag burning in the fireplace. Over the fireplace is a portrait of Osama bin Laden.

You have to admit those are pretty extreme symbols.

This is supposed to be satire according to the magazine. It is further explained that the cover is making fun of those who believe that Barak Obama is a Muslim and that Michelle Obama is a radical, anti-American activist.

Satire works when whatever is being communicated is so extreme that it is obviously incorrect. Jonathan Swift's Modest Proposal is an often used example where Swift suggests the Irish can improve their economy by selling their children to rich Englishmen for food. Well, no one would sell children for food (or so the argument goes) so obviously Swift is making fun of the idea and at the same time he is highlighting the plight of the poor Irish and the callousness of the English.

The thing is that about 99.99% of people believe you shouldn't sell or eat children.

Now the problem with this cover is that somewhere around 35% of the voting population support Mr. Obama. They don't really care what he does or doesn't do they are going to support him. And another 35% are actively opposed to him and they don't care what he does or doesn't either because they are going to oppose him. So those who are for him look at that cover and think to themselves "how clever that is to poke fun at those stupid people who oppose Barak."

But those who oppose him look at the cover and think to themselves "yep those guys really are far left and he probably would burn a flag in the fireplace." Seriously they really don't think it is so far out of the realm of possibility that Obama would burn an American flag and they are pretty sure his wife is more like Angela Davis than Patti LaBelle. And they will mention Reverend Wright if pressed. Doesn't seem a stretch even to me that Reverend Wright would burn an American flag. Heck I think he probably would burn the entire White House.

That leaves about 30% of the people who supposedly are neutral or at least haven't made up their minds. (Do you really think it is that high?) So they might get the satire or maybe not. I say maybe not because if they haven't made up their minds or are really neutral; then, I have to at least wonder if they really get satire period?

After all one has to somewhat question why someone hasn't made up their mind about voting for either Obama or McCain. It's not like they are close on the major issues. They are opposites. Good grief. I don't really understand how anyone can be undecided. It's a choice between two guys. That's it - Obama or McCain. Just pick one.

Now the people at the New Yorker are supposed to be of above average intelligence. I mean they are using satire for goodness sake. And they are supposed to be more or less in favor of Barak.

Do you think they really thought this cover might help?