We Are All Musicians

Posted by C.J.

I’m not usually one to post videos, but how could I pass this by? How cool.

Deeper Dimensions: Seeing Through the Eyes of a Child

Posted by C.J.

In his book Look Me in the Eye, John Elder Robison hypothesizes that as a person with Asberger’s syndrome, he has shifted his abilities from one area to another in order to adapt to the world’s expectations of him. As a child and young adult, he had an inordinate ability with machines and electrical equipment, but was lower functioning in social situations. As he grew older and improved socially, even to the point that he delivers keynote addresses at large conferences, he lost some of his mechanical ability. He does not lament the loss, but accepts it as a fair trade off. I believe that most adults experience a similar swap. As we mature and accept the challenges and responsibilities of adulthood, we give up the unique perspective of childhood. Nevertheless, we can regain some of what we used to see, but only if we listen to our children. 

Case in point–on July 3, the whole family went to see the fireworks at Elver Park. Although we’ve seen the fireworks from a distance–across the street from the park in the yard of the Lutheran church or from the top of the hill in our neighborhood–we’ve never attending the display at the park itself. It was the first time the kids had seen fireworks close-up.

May, even though she’s now 11-years old, sat on my lap for nearly the entire show and we shared with each other which of the pyrotechnics we liked best. 

“Look at that one, Daddy. It looks like a horse’s tail.”

“I like the ones that crackle.” 

“I’ve never seen a blue firework before. It’s pretty neat, but I like the red ones better.”

About ten minutes in, May pointed out that if you look closely, you can see the smoke trails of earlier fireworks in the light of the new ones that are exploding. Hiding in the shadows of the night were smokey squids and spiders, cascading waterfalls, and the petals of daisies–a reality that I’d never seen. I’ve always been too absorbed by the obvious to notice the subtle. There is a whole new dimension, a depth, to fireworks displays that I’ve missed for the first 40 years of my life. 

I wonder what else I’ve missed. If I listen, I’m sure my kids will tell me.

Author’s note: I tried to find an image on line of the smoke trails left behind by fireworks, but there is nothing that even slightly resembles the depth and mysterious beauty of the trails May and I watched. That seems right. Phantom squid should never be captured on film (or pixels).

An O-pun Letter to Ms. Christy Lemire, AP Film Critic

Posted by C.J.

Dear Ms. Lemire:

In your short review of Hotel for Dogs last week, you included the following:

“It’s not that director Thor Freudenthal’s film sits up on its hind legs and shamelessly begs for approval; on the contrary, it performs a few tricks, then rolls over on its back and plays dead. (Sorry, had to go there, the metaphor was irresistible.)”

Always remember and never feghoot, there’s no reason to apologize, Ms. Lemire. There’s no shame in puns or humorous metaphors, and don’t let your friends and family try to tell you otherwise. In spite of their groans and protests, deep down they know they are just jealous of your ability to dance among homonyms and identify with idioms.

Be brave. Stand strong. The pun is mightier than the word.

Sincerely,

C.J.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Crown Room and Babies (a meandering post)

Posted by C.J.

As I was sitting in Delta’s Crown Room Club in the San Diego airport waiting for my flight to board, two things struck me.

First, for having such a luxurious sounding name and royal looking logo, the Crown Room Club is kind of a dump. It’s nice in that middle-of-the-road business-class hotel lobby-bar kind of way, but it certainly isn’t worthy of its royal name. The clocks that show times around the world are missing labels and the bar is unattended. It’s a dissapointment in the same way that joining a private club always is; reality never measures up to one’s imagination.

Second, I miss having infants in the house. (I know it seems a stretch from complaining about the Crown Room Club to babies, but bear with me.)

In the Crown Room, I sat across from a couple who had an infant with them. The mother held the sleeping baby in her arms as she read a book; the baby’s head was nestled under his mom’s chin as he slept. I have distinct memories of what it feels and smells like to have a baby lying against my chest with it’s head tucked under my chin. It’s clearly branded in my memory like few other experiences.

It’s not that I want to have another child, but there is an intense feeling of peace that comes only with nuzzling one’s own child. Seeing that mom in the Crown Room holding her baby made me realize that I miss that feeling.

God does it right. He allows new parents to be washed over in intense love for their children before presenting them with the ever increasing challenges of parenthood. It’s a foundation builder and prepares us for parenting–a job that stretches beyond anything we could ever imagine.

I’m in Minneapolis now, sitting in the Northwest Airlines World Club. I’m almost home and I miss my kids.

Loose Change and Caffeinated Joy

Posted by C.J.

This morning on the way to work, I stopped at PDQ, refilled my travel mug with coffee, and paid with loose change (refills are only $0.96 at PDQ). It gave me a little thrill to be able to pay without using paper money.

Small joy. Good coffee.