This is one of those books which, each time I read it, causes my soul to
vibrate sympathetically with the sheer truth of it. C.S. Lewis manages to
steer a good course through some potentially treacherous waters, focusing on
the essentials of what constitutes Christian faith, as well as offering up
one of the best apologies in print for God’s existence based on the presence
of moral standards. (It was parts of this book that inspired the thinking
for Moral Relativism and Howard Stern.) It’s interesting to me to note
that, though Lewis is much beloved by the conservative Christian
sub-culture, he’s actually theologically to the left of where they as a
group stand.

Another in Tony Hillerman’s Jim Chee/Joe Leaphorn Navajo, The Fallen Man
starts with the discovery of a dead body below a seldom-climbed rock face on
the Navajo reservation. Chee and the now-retired Leaphorn become
progressively more involved with the mystery of who the man was, and how he
came to meet his end. As one now expects with Hillerman’s work, the story is
solid, enriched by the very human drama of its participants. My one
complaint: this on-again, off-again thing with Jim Chee and Janet Pete seems
to have been dragging on through far too many novels. Ok, there’s tension
between the Navajo way of life and that of the white man. WE GET IT! <ahem>

Here’s another photo log, this one of a recent trip to Fredericksburg and the Enchanted Rock Recreation Area with my friend and musical co-conspirator Steve Johnson. Lots of Texas Hill Country beauty for those of you who aren’t fortunate enough to live here in God’s Country.

Don’t call the cat “Fuzzy Butt” when the kids are listening.

Well, it was way back in 1990 (or thereabouts). I was a student at The King’s College when we got the great news that Paul Simon would be playing a free concert in Central Park, open to the public, entirely general admission. Since Graceland had just come out recently and convinced us all that Paul Simon was a musical genius nonpareil, several of my friends and I decided that we would be there. Further, wanting to ensure that we got the best seats possible, we decided to sleep in Central Park like a bunch of unusually giddy homeless people. We went out, set up camp with a couple dozen other people who had apparently had the same idea, and went to sleep. Halfway through the night, it began to rain, and we all got pretty well soaked. Since the concert didn’t begin until evening, we ended up loitering around Central Park in our wet clothes all day, chafing and complaining, but still looking forward to the event. Finally, about 3 hours before the show started, they opened up the seating area, and we swarmed in, along with the few thousand others who had showed up by that time. We spread out our blanket close enough to the stage that I could have lobbed an apple at Paul and stood a fair chance of hitting him (and a better chance of spending the night with the NYPD). More waiting, and finally the concert began!

This was easily one of the best concerts I’d ever attended. No pyrotechnics, no lasers, no light shows, just an excellent sound system, and about a zillion musicians up on stage with Paul Simon, who was in impeccable form and obviously enjoying the crowd’s enthusiasm. One particular percussionist was great fun to watch, as he would only play a single note on the downbeat of every other measure, and would spend the remaining seven beats just dancing around the drum. The bass player gave out about halfway through the solo in You Can Call Me Al and just resorted to some slaps and pops, but we all cheered him anyway. We kept expecting Art Garfunkel to put in a cameo, since this was Central Park and all, but no such luck. In spite of that one failing, it was a great show, and a great experience that if I had it all to do over again, I would gladly repeat. Only this time, I’d bring a pair of dry underwear with me for after the rain.

I spent this past week in California for some professional training. It would have been a pretty lonely trip if it hadn’t been for one of my dear friends who drove up from L.A. to keep me company. See the photos as I visit San Francisco with Ross.

Seth, our virtual landlord, started a lively thread on how to make good tea. We eventually hit on good techniques for both iced tea and hot tea, so if you’re interested in making this wonderful drink as wonderful as it can be, stop on by.

As many of you know, I bear the curse of the travel gods, and am incapable of going anywhere more than 200 miles from home without some mishap or another. Fortunately, they’re being gentle this trip: the only things that have gone wrong are the wildfire that was raging 2 miles from our house when I had to leave, the stopped traffic on the Interstate on the way to the airport, the lateness of the flight, the verbally abusive drunk in the seat behind me, the bachelor party in progress two rows back, and the inability to get the rental car because my license had expired. But I’ve made it to class, Kathy assures me that the house hasn’t burned down, and there’s a shuttle at the hotel, so I’m in pretty good shape.

This year’s Hugo Award Winners have been announced, and include such diverse pieces of work as Galaxy Quest and Vinge’s excellent A Deepness in the Sky. If you’re looking to add to your reading queue, you can’t go wrong here.

My boss and I went to see the musical production of Les Miserablés Wednesday night while in San Francisco. I was impressed all over again with what a magnificent story it is, and what a wonderful job the creators of the show did in bringing Hugo’s masterwork from prose to the stage. There are few more powerful workings-out of the conflict between justice and mercy, sin and salvation in world literature than this one, and it’s amazing to see it brought to life so vividly.