Overachiever

Sometimes, I think I should probably be in medical school, not radiography school.

Of course, I say that not because I have any overwhelming urge to be a doctor. I don’t. For one thing, I don’t think my hypochondriac tendencies could handle learning about all those diseases and treating and diagnosing patients who had those diseases. As a radiographer, I might X-ray them, but that’ll be the extent of it. I also don’t have much interest in devoting the time, at this point in my life, to medical school and residency. Finally, my undergraduate GPA, at right around 3.0, is probably not high enough to get me accepted to any reputable programs, particularly without a biology/chemistry degree.

But I feel this way about medical school sometimes because I feel so “out of place” among my peers at Spencerian. It’s not that I don’t like my classmates or feel like I am friends with those people. I certainly do. There are a number of people in my classes who I like really well, and enjoy spending time with in class. But I also feel increasingly isolated because of how far apart my study habits and subsequent test performances seem to be from just about everyone else.

My Wednesday night class is a prime example. This class – Radiography 100 – is widely considered the most difficult and overwhelming class in the program. Prior to starting this class, I had heard numerous “horror stories” about it. Our instructor even admitted, somewhat regretfully, to this fact during the first class session. She said that it is “very, very difficult” to get an A in the class, and that she wishes it wasn’t this way, but it does tend to serve as the “weed out” class for the program. We were all, myself included, fairly intimidated after that first class session.

Indeed, this class does cover a lot of material that your average person (even your average college-educated person) has never studied before. It is a complete introduction to radiography, including all the physics and science behind how the machine produces X-rays, even down to studying the electrical circuits of the machine.

In preparing for the first test, which covered two chapters, I spent about six to eight total hours studying, over the course of two weeks. Not knowing what to expect from the test, I went into it with quite a bit of trepidation. Having gotten a 4.0 during my first quarter, I feel a lot of pressure to maintain that GPA.

The test turned out to be fairly basic. I daresay it was even “easy.” I fairly cruised through it, and felt very relieved that it wasn’t more difficult or obscure. I expected to have a high “A” at the very least; as it turned out, I got a perfect score, 100%.

Most people, however, did not fare so well. The general consensus was that it wasn’t quite as difficult as they had expected, but that it was still pretty bad. Two of the people who I have a lot of classes with, and who are both generally A/B students, got C’s on the test. I don’t know for sure, but I have a sneaking feeling that my 100% was the only A in the class.

After that test, we had a second test. This second test was a math test. As part of the curriculum for this class, the students have to display a certain proficiency in basic math. Since there is not enough time during the quarter to teach both math and introductory radiography, the math is supplied by an online course called PLATO. However, a student may avoid the very time-consuming process of completing this online course by scoring a 70% or higher on the math test given at the beginning of the quarter. Anyone who scores less than 70% must complete the online course in order to pass the class.

As an avowed “Math Hater” most of my life, and as someone who has always considered math to be my weakest subject, I was naturally quite worried about this test. When I took the GRE a few years back, I scored 600 on the math section, which was higher than the national average. However, that was a multiple choice test, and this test was to be open answer. Furthermore, I had a study guide for the GRE – for this test, I just had to try to brush up on my basic knowledge of fractions, exponents, and decimals.

Like the chapter test, the math test turned out to be fairly basic. In fact, I would go as far as to say that it was absurdly basic. The first four questions, for instance, were simple multiplication. 2145 x 4523, etc. Oh, did I mention we were allowed to use a calculator? As long as you know how to punch buttons on the calculator, and transcribe the result accurately onto a piece of notebook paper, you couldn’t possibly miss the first four questions. After that, the questions became slightly more in depth. These included changing a few fractions to decimal points, and vice versa, finding percentages, and some very basic algebra (solve for “x” when x40 = 72, for instance).

I do not know yet what grade I got on this test, but I am certain it is a 100%. It was so easy, in fact, that I was afraid I was missing something. It was that overwhelming feeling that it couldn’t possibly be this simple.

Some students, apparently, fail this test on a routine basis. There were a number in my class who felt that they probably failed it, and I know some students I talked to last quarter had failed it. Clearly people fail it routinely, otherwise the college wouldn’t have the online PLATO course. (Incidentally, assuming the PLATO course provides instructions and tests on the same level of our classroom test, it is also notable to point out that I had some people tell me last quarter that they were doing the PLATO course and that it was incredibly hard and that I should “start preparing for it now.” It makes one wonder how these people got out of high school.)

What’s the difference? Why am I set so far apart from my peers? There are a lot of reasons, of course. First of all, I am older than most of them. I have more life experiences and more maturity and am thus better prepared for the dedication required to succeed in a scholastic program. I also have already been to college, and graduated, so I have four years of experience in going to class and studying at the collegiate level.

Finally, I have a passion for learning and I enjoy learning. As such, I have spent much of my adulthood reading and learning about things – in other words, I have a lot of practice at this whole “learning” thing. I believe most of my peers probably view this program as a means of getting the certificate they need to have a job where they can make some decent money. I don’t think they are all that interested in actually learning, beyond doing whatever is necessary to pass. That, more than anything else, is probably what sets me apart. Of course, I want a good-paying job too. But I also want to learn as much as I can along the way, for the sake of learning itself. I think most of my peers would think this strange.

But this is why I feel separated from my peers – like I should be in medical school, not radiography school. My study habits, my interest in the material, and my ability to excel are all better suited for something more than just a vocational technical college. I almost feel like people are wondering what I’m doing there, and I feel like maybe people resent me. “We might be able to have a grading curve if it wasn’t for him.” That sort of thing.

I’m also afraid people think I’m arrogant or that I “know it all.” I do my best not to come across that way. Indeed, I don’t think my good grades occur because I’m necessarily so much smarter than everyone else. It’s about dedication, not intelligence. Intelligence helps, of course, but I make A’s on everything I do because I spend hours preparing and studying for the tests. One student remarked, a week or two ago, after hearing me say I had spent about ten hours on the weekend studying: “I don’t have ten hours to spend studying” (or something to that effect). I work full time, forty hours a week, am a full time student with three classes this quarter, and I also have a wife and two young children. So I empathize with anyone who feels like they have “no time.” However, I spend what little free time I do have studying. And I think that’s the difference. It’s not that other people have less time than I do, it’s just that they aren’t willing to spend the majority of their free time studying. I know how precious that free time is – believe me when I say that free time is about as important to me as anything. But I also know that if I intend to excel in this program, I have to devote that free time, right now, to studying.

So I think it’s that dedication level that seems to be what primarily sets me apart. And I intend to continue to be dedicated to the program. I just hope I am not resented or looked down on for it.

One thing I can say for sure – when I get out into the field and am working in this industry, it’s going to irritate me to no end when doctors – with their medical school diplomas slung on their walls – treat me like I’m common gutter trash, assuming I’m a typical underachieving, undereducated technologist. It’s not that I think doctors are all jerks, or that they all look down with derision on the allied health professionals who assist them, but I’m sure there are the types out there who treat techs and assistants like second-class citizens, assuming they’re all stupid and not talented or smart enough to do anything other than push an X-ray button or draw blood.

It almost makes me want to go to medical school, just so people won’t think I’m stupid.

Neurotic, eh? But I guess it comes from having so many jobs over the years where the “bosses” walked around as though they were kings of the hill, and treated everyone else as though they were street trash. I’m so sick of Type-A personality lawyers and corporate execs that I think I could probably scream. Yet, I know when I get into this field, those Type-A lawyers and corporate execs are simply going to be replaced with Type-A doctors.

I guess that should serve as motivation to write harder.*

*(It’s not that I think the writing industry isn’t full of cutthroat Type-A personalities either – it’s just that at least, as a writer, if I was successful enough, those Type-A’s within the publishing industry would be kissing my ass, not the other way around. Of course, I realize that’s incredibly naive, as I’m sure any run-of-the-mill novelist would say that they spend their whole lives compromising their art and kissing people’s asses in order to sell books. But at least I’d be writing and getting paid to do it!)

The Last Resort

She came from Providence, the one in Rhode Island, where the Old World shadows hang heavy in the air.



She packed her hopes and dreams like a refugee. Just as her father came across the sea.

She heard about a place, people were smiling. They spoke about the Red Man’s way, and how they loved the land.

They came from everywhere to the Great Divide. Seeking a place to stand or a place to hide.


Down in the crowded bars, out for a good time. Can’t wait to tell you all what it’s like up there.


They called it paradise; I don’t know why. Somebody laid the mountains low while the town got high.



Then the chilly winds blew down across the desert. Through the canyons of the coast, to the Malibu.

Where the pretty people play, hungry for power. To light their neon way and give them things to do.

Some rich men came and raped the land. Nobody caught ‘em. Put up a bunch of ugly boxes, and Jesus, people bought ‘em.


They called it paradise, the place to be. They watched the hazy sun sinking in the sea.


You can leave it all behind and sail to Lahaina.


Just like the missionaries did so many years ago. They even brought a neon sign: “Jesus is coming.”


They brought the white man’s burden down. They brought the white man’s reign.

Who will provide the grand design? What is yours and what is mine? ‘Cause there is no more new frontier. We have got to make it here.


We satisfy our endless needs and justify our bloody deeds in the name of destiny, and the in the name of God.


And you can see them there on Sunday morning. They stand up and sing about what it’s like up there.


They call it paradise; I don’t know why. You call someplace paradise, kiss it goodbye.

Catholicism: Less Biblically-Based than Protestantism?

Growing up as a traditional Southern Baptist, I always felt rather suspicious of Catholics. It wasn’t that I necessarily believed, or was taught, that Catholics wouldn’t go to heaven (in fact, I can even remember arguing that such an idea was absurd – a Christian is a Christian, after all), but my Southern Baptist background caused me to view Catholicism, at the very least, as a misguided interpretation of Christianity.

I can remember contemplating how Catholicism could make some of the claims it made. Why did people have to confess sins to their priests? When you did confess, why did you have to say mantras and such to be adequately forgiven? Why couldn’t priests or nuns get married and have children? If the Church is in the business of saving souls, why did the Church sometimes kick people out (excommunication)? How come so many Catholics don’t act like Christians? (For me, “acting like a Christian” would have included not smoking, not drinking, and not gambling – things that I perceived Catholics loved to do!) What’s with the whole Mary-worship thing? Why do we need a Pope?

I didn’t know any practicing Catholics, nor did I have any exposure to first-hand Catholicism at all, so my impressions of Catholicism were twisted utterly by my Southern Baptist view of the world.

My general impression was that Protestantism, despite some faults and some obvious disagreements between denominations, at least stuck primarily to actual biblical teachings. I remember specifically contemplating the tradition of Catholics referring to priests as “Father.” The bible, I knew, specifically taught that no one should call another man “Father,” in a spiritual sense, except for the Heavenly Father (Matthew 23:9). Why then did Catholics practice something that not only wasn’t biblical, but was precisely the opposite of what the bible taught?

Additionally, I looked to other seemingly non-biblical doctrines: the existence of the Church hierarchy, from the Pope down through the Cardinals, etc., and the suggestion that those people are “intermediaries” to God, when, in fact, the bible says that all people are equal and can equally approach God; the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, which states that Mary was conceived by the Holy Spirit, despite no such teaching in the bible; priests and nuns being barred from marriage, despite all the early Christians being married, including Peter, whom the Church claims was the first Pope.

As I have gotten older and begun studying religions more in depth, I have come to view Catholicism differently. More important, I have come to realize that my previous notions that only Catholicism was guilty of twisting the bible were simply misinformed, and the result of being so caught up in what I perceived as the Ultimate Truth of Southern Baptist theology.

I can’t say that I no longer have those “suspicions” about Catholicism. Indeed, I feel that all the issues I raised above are still valid issues regarding Catholicism’s interpretation of scripture. In fact, I probably have more awareness of apparently unbiblical beliefs and actions of some Catholics than I did when I was a kid. One that I recently began to contemplate was the seemingly widespread action of treating crucifixes like they are somehow “holier” than some other manmade item. Praying and/or kneeling before a crucifix, for instance. Or the way crucifixes have been used as a means of exorcism – as if the crucifix itself has some holy power that, say, a plastic set of headphones doesn’t have. There is also the tendency to believe it’s a sin to turn a crucifix upside down, or to destroy a crucifix – again, suggesting that the crucifix is imbued with some special holiness that other inanimate objects don’t have.

The same could be said for holy water. To quote Stan Freeburg, “I mean, the name says it, man.” “Holy” water, presumably, has some special attribute that regular old tap water doesn’t have. Is this not the textbook definition of idolatry? Applying supernatural attributes to an inanimate object?

Of course, there are many Protestants who do similar things with crosses and crucifixes, and even holy water. So this isn’t an issue exclusive to Catholicism. In fact, I believe idolatry, in various forms, is widespread among all classes of Christians.

And that really leads me to my next point: What I have discovered, as I have grown and matured in my spirituality, is that all brands of Christianity are guilty of adding and subtracting to the bible. Southern Baptists, for instance, have long taught that dancing and drinking were sins. I certainly grew up believing this (I was suspicious of the dancing thing, but I definitely believed drinking was a sin). Yet, the bible not only depicts Jesus and everyone else drinking wine (Jesus’s first miracle, for crying out loud, was turning water to wine so that guests at a wedding party had plenty to drink!), but it also implies that dancing can be used as a way to celebrate and worship God (as was so eloquently pointed out by Kevin Bacon’s character in the movie “Footloose”).

I think that many people probably still have the impression that Catholics “make stuff up,” while Protestants don’t. Even atheists, agnostics, and skeptics are sometimes guilty of this. Just today (in fact, it was the inspiration for this post), an atheist on the Rush Message Board made just such a comment – suggesting that, even though he was neither Catholic nor Protestant, he believed at least Protestants went primarily “by the bible,” whereas Catholics didn’t.

I think it’s important to realize, whether you are Protestant, Catholic, or otherwise, that every brand of Christianity is guilty of adding (and subtracting) from the bible, as it benefits its own pre-determined doctrines and dogmas. There is no such thing as a “bias-free” version of Christianity, or a version of Christianity that just “goes straight by the bible.” Many Protestant denominations bill themselves, and truly believe, that they are simply a “bible-based congregation of believers,” following the bible just as it reads, no more, no less.

Unfortunately, no such thing exists, in either the Protestant world or the Catholic world.

So let’s not unfairly market Catholicism as the only brand of Christianity that “makes stuff up.” If we’re going to point fingers, let’s point them fairly at all brands of Christianity.

Just Call Me "Doctor"

The lady at the Chinese restaurant thinks I’m a doctor.

Once a week (usually on Wednesday, for whatever reason), I go to the Happy Dragon Chinese Buffet, which is just a few miles away from where I work downtown. The building it’s in was formerly the New Orleans House, which was an up-scale seafood restaurant, with at least two locations here in Kentucky (although I don’t think either is in business any longer). Keeping in line with what I perceive to be the standard inattention to detail (and, probably more importantly, a low-overhead) apparent in so many American Chinese restaurants, the various rooms inside the Happy Dragon still have brass nameplates on the walls indicating the room names, such as “Bourbon Street Room,” “French Quarter Room” and “Orleans Room," despite the fact that the Happy Dragon has been in the place for about ten years now. (Strangely, there’s no “Ninth Ward Room.” Go figure.)

Anyway, the restaurant is broken up into four sections, which comprise three different rooms (there is a fourth room, but I rarely ever see it used). Each of the four sections has one server, and it’s the same four servers, in the same four sections, every single day. I typically only go at lunch during the week, so I suppose it’s possible these four people simply work the lunch crowd every day, and then go home. But I went on a Saturday night a few weeks ago, and it was the same four servers, in the same four sections. My impression is that these four individuals work seven days a week, lunch and dinner. And considering that at a place like a Chinese buffet, they probably average about 10% on their tips, they must be working a lot of hours, for not much pay.

Only one of the four servers speaks what I would call “conversational” English. The others are either too shy to do much in the way of speaking English to the guests, or they simply aren’t that fluent in the language. It’s probably a combination of both. The last two times I’ve been in there, I’ve had the one server who is not shy about speaking to the guests in English. She always greets me with a smile and asks me how I’m doing, and then says good-bye to me when I leave. On one past occasion, we even had a discussion about her kids (she has three), and she told me my kids were both beautiful (that was on a trip with the whole family).

Today, I brought my Anatomy & Physiology textbook with me, figuring I would use my time at lunch to review for my test on the endocrine system tonight. As I was sitting there eating and reading over the highlighted parts of the chapter, she walked by and said something to me. I couldn’t understand what she said, so I looked up at her and asked her to repeat herself. She said it again, and I still couldn’t tell what she was saying. However, it was apparent, from her voice inflection, that whatever she was asking me was a casual question to which she expected to have an affirmative response (sort of like when you see someone reading, and you walk up casually and say, “Hey, you doin' some reading?”) So I went ahead and just nodded and said yes. She smiled and nodded back and I turned back to my textbook.

No harm, no foul, right?

Well, as I started back into my notes, it dawned on me what she had said. She hadn’t used the right grammar, and she had said it with a heavy accent, but what she had said was: “Is you doctor?” She was asking me if I was a physician. I guess she could see that my book was a medical textbook of some type, and she either assumed I was a doctor reading up on some important subjects, or maybe she thought I was a medical student. Either way, by me telling her “Yes,” I effectively told her I was a doctor!

I always tip pretty well there anyway, because I know they must work a lot of hours for not much money (as I illustrated above), but now she’s really going to expect a nice tip! Not to mention, considering how friendly and open to conversing she usually is, I’m afraid now she might start asking me for medical advice!!

Although, as I said earlier, she speaks what I would call “conversational” English, she is by no means fluent or free of heavy accent when she speaks. So I’m not about to attempt to explain to her that I’m studying radiography, and not medicine.

Oh well. I’ll just start signing my receipts with an “M.D.” at the end.

Reading List for 2006

Here is my reading list for 2006. I read 45 books this year, which is 3 fewer than in 2005. That's primarily due to my school and work schedule, which began in late September. You can see a distinct drop off after that time. It'll be much the same this year, with me in school all year. I'll probably be lucky to finish 25 books this year. Oh well.

Anyway, here's the list. I've put a few relevant comments next to some of them.

Shock Wave – Clive Cussler…1/22

The Closing of the Western Mind – Charles Freeman…1/23 -- This was an excellent book discussing how the rise of Christianity destroyed the Greek intellectual tradition and sent the western world into a 1000-year dark age. Despite the name and the subject matter, the book is very neutral and non-biased...it's a historical and factual look at how Christianity impacted the ancient world, rather than a condemnation of Christianity as a religion.

A Game For Heroes – Jack Higgins…1/28

A Million Little Pieces – James Frey…2/5 -- This is the now infamous autobiography by James Frey, a former hardcore drug and alchol addict, recounting his 6 weeks in rehab, for which he later admitted he had made some of the "facts" up. It was the book that had Oprah up in arms because she had picked it for her bookclub, without realizing he had made some stuff up. Regardless, the book was still a moving and disturbing account of the realities of addiction.

A Study in Scarlet – Arthur Conan Doyle…2/6

Archangel – Robert Harris…2/19

The Case for Christ – Lee Strobel…2/25 -- Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged was the first book I ever read that I seriously considered throwing across the room and/or destroying. The Case for Christ was the second.

Stonehenge – Bernard Cornwell…3/4

The Sign of Four – Arthur Conan Doyle…3/7

A Season in Hell – Jack Higgins…3/11

Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time – Marcus Borg…3/11 -- Highly recommended to anyone who grew up as a Christian and later grew disillusioned with some of the beliefs of their younger years.

Flood Tide – Clive Cussler…3/18

Flight of Eagles – Jack Higgins…3/21

Velvet Elvis – Rob Bell…3/24 -- A pretty good Chrsitian apologetic by a progressive non-denominational mega-church pastor in Michigan. A nice change of pace from the typical shallow, cheesy crap put out by most mega-church pastors.

The Last Templar – Raymond Khoury…4/2

No Death, No Fear – Thich Nhat Hanh…4/8

It Can't Happen Here – Sinclair Lewis…4/14

This Hebrew Lord – John Shelby Spong…4/20

Atlantis Found – Clive Cussler…4/30

The Eagle Has Flown – Jack Higgins…5/4

God is a Verb – David Cooper…5/13 -- This is a book covering the Jewish mystical tradition, including Kabbalah. Very enlightening and eye-opening, but also a bit hard to stay with in places.

Christ the Lord – Anne Rice…5/21 -- The first book I ever attempted to read by Anne Rice was Interview with the Vampire. I quit after about 50 pages because it was so overtly graphic, bloody, and disturbing. Thus, it was odd for me to read a fictionalized account, by her, of the childhood of Jesus, written from a strict Catholic dogmatic perspective. She's apparently returned to faith after years of atheism, and while she hasn't overtly "recanted" all her earlier works, she apparently doesn't intend to be the "Queen of Horror" anymore. While she may view her previous work as the brainchild of her evil atheist days, she sure isn't rejecting the royalty checks, I'm sure!

Valhalla Rising – Clive Cussler…6/7

Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Arthur Conan Doyle…6/8

Traveling Music – Neil Peart…6/14

Sons and Lovers – D.H. Lawrence…7/9 -- I like D.H. Lawrence, and Sons and Lovers is the third book I've read by him (the previous two being Lady Chatterly's Lover and a book of short stories). I wish, after having read this book, that I could say I understand why it is consistently included on lists of the best novels of the 20th century. Sadly, I can't. It was certainly vintage D.H. Lawrence, but it dragged something awful.

The Book of the Dead – Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child…7/22

Blue Like Jazz – Donald Miller…7/23 -- Another good Christian apologetic. However, Miller's theology and view of the world is one of the most unusual, perplexing, and enigmatic that I have ever encountered in the realm of Christianity. He is a raging left-wing liberal. In the book, he uses curse words and other off color language (from time to time), and recounts stories of attending anti-Bush rallies and anti-war rallies. He talks about smoking pot and drinking, and doesn't condemn those things. Yet, his theology is basically in line with traditional evangelical theology. God is a supernatural being, up in heaven, invading history to control events, responding to specific individual prayers, and taking an active role in the lives of human beings. Jesus was God in the flesh, born of a virgin, rose physically from the dead, and ascended to heaven. The Holy Spirit is a living, active, life-changing force in the world. I don't think I've ever encountered an individual with such seemingly contradictory ideas about theology vs. culture/society/politics.

Night of the Fox – Jack Higgins…8/4

Beyond Belief: The Secret Gospel of Thomas – Elaine Pagels…8/6

The Eye of the Needle – Ken Follett…8/16

Beyond the Influence – Katherine Ketcham, et al…8/26

Black Order – James Rollins…8/27

Keep the Aspidistra Flying – George Orwell…9/10 -- This was my third time reading this great early Orwell novel. I suppose this is the only Orwell novel that has a happy ending.

Congo – Michael Crichton…9/17 -- This was another re-read. Oh for Michael Crichton to still write relevant, engaging, techno-thrillers like Congo, Sphere, and Jurassic Park, instead of the neo-con drivel he passes off as fiction these days.

The Templar Legacy – Steve Berry…10/8

Walking the Bible – Bruce Feiler…10/15

River God – Wilbur Smith…11/3 -- Another re-read. One of my all time favorite novels. Set in ancient Egypt.

The Tao of Sobriety – David Gregson & Jay S. Efran…11/21

Warlock – Wilbur Smith…11/24 -- Another re-read, also set in ancient Egypt.

The Bormann Testament – Jack Higgins…11/25

The Seventh Scroll – Wilbur Smith…12/12 -- Another re-read. This is the book that is in between River God and Warlock, but unlike those two, this book takes place in the modern day, and is about the archaeological search for the tomb of the pharaoh who was buried in River God. This may be my favorite thriller novel.

A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens…12/14 -- After years of seeing the various movies and stage reproductions, this was my first time reading this book, and also my first time reading Dickens. It was absolutely sublime. No movie or play quite captures the spirit of the book itself (although Scrooge with Albert Finny comes damn close!).

The Last Kingdom – Bernard Cornwell…12/25

Breakfast of Champions – Kurt Vonnegut…12/27

Romulus & Remus: A Lesson for Christianity

The founders of Rome are said to be twin brothers named Romulus and Remus. Born in 771 B.C.E., they were the sons of Mars, the god of war, and the priestess daughter of another god-king, Numitor.


Mars, God of War

Numitor was ruler of the city of Alba Longa, about 20 miles south of present-day Rome.


The Alban Hills, outside Rome

Their mother, Rhea Silvia, had been forced to become a Vestal Virgin by her uncle, Amulius (Numitor’s brother, who overthrew Numitor), because Amulius had been warned that Rhea Silvia would produce sons who might overthrow him. Rhea Silvia, however, became pregnant when she was raped by Mars.

Enraged, Amulius ordered that Rhea Silvia be buried alive – the standard execution for a Vestal Virgin who broke her vow of celibacy. He also ordered that the twins be executed. However, the slave who was to perform the execution placed the boys in a basket upon the Tiber River, and sent them floating away to safety downstream.

The river god Tiberinus rescued the twins, and took them to the Palatine Hill, along the banks of the river, to be nursed by a she-wolf and fed by a woodpecker.


Romulus and Remus feeding

The twins grew up as shepherds, but their strength, stature, and regal bearing soon set them apart from their peers.

In time, Amulius discovered that the twins were still alive, and set out to kill them. However, the twins by now commanded a citizen army, and they defeated and killed Amulius. The citizens offered the dual crown of the Alba Longa to the twins, but they refused to take it, since their grandfather (Numitor) was still alive. Instead, they restored the crown to Numitor, and set out to found their own city on the slopes of the Palatine Hill, where they had been raised.

However, they began to argue once they set out to build their city. They disagreed about where its actual location should be. They decided to have a contest to see who had the true will of the gods on his side. Using augury (which was an ancient form of reading the will of the gods through signs in nature), they each counted the number of vultures they saw in the sky. Romulus saw the most and thus won the contest. Remus was outraged and the two brothers fought. Romulus won the fight by killing his brother.

Thus, he built his city in the location of his choosing, along the Palatine Hill, and named it after himself.

Rome was born. The year was 753 B.C.E.

Romulus became the first king of the city, and the population grew to large numbers under his rule. He created a city council of 100 men, which would eventually become the Senate, and he also created the first Roman legions. He warred with a neighboring tribe called the Sabines, and after defeating them, they were added to the population of Rome, nearly doubling its size.

In the 38th year after the founding of the city, 717 B.C.E., Romulus and a number of local citizens went to the Campus Martius (the Field of Mars), which was a wide, grassy plain to the west of the city, where games, elections, and other municipal events were held.


The Field of Mars as it would have looked centuries later, at the height of the ancient Roman Empire

While they were there, a great storm arose, which darkened the entire city. While this was happening, Romulus sneaked away and went to the Quirinal Hill, where he ascended into heaven to live with the gods. A temple was built on the spot to his honor, and he was worshipped thereafter as a god himself.

As anyone familiar with the bible will note, there are a number of similarities between the mythology of Romulus and Remus, and the stories in the bible. Moses, it was said, was placed inside a basket and set afloat on a river, in order to escape a vengeful king. Jesus is said to have been conceived by the union of God and a virgin. Upon his death, a great storm is said to have overtaken the land, covering it in darkness. Later, Jesus is said to have ascended into heaven to live with God, and to be part of God himself (the Trinity).

The story of Romulus and Remus, of course, predates the events in the New Testament. And while Moses is believed to have lived several hundred years before Romulus and Remus, his story – including his origins in a basket on a river – was not recorded until after the inception of the mythology surrounding the founding of Rome.

We could argue all day about whether there is any theological significance in these similarities. Skeptics would say that this (as well as many other examples) proves that the stories in the bible are simply a retelling of pre-existing mythological themes. Believers would either reject the dating of the various stories, or would take the route of C.S. Lewis and argue that these earlier stories were simply examples of ancient mythology paralleling what was to come – all part of God’s grand plan for humanity (one must wonder, if this Lewis argument is true, if the events described in, for example, the Star Wars saga, will eventually play out in reality, many centuries in the future).

But my purpose with this essay is not to argue these points. Instead, I want to illustrate a parallel between how we interpret secular history as opposed to Christian history.

When traditional Christians read the story of Romulus and Remus, they no doubt read it as a mythological tale (despite the fact that archaeological evidence suggests that Romulus was a real person, and, as illustrated above, the dates of the supposed lives of Romulus and Remus are recorded by ancient historians). At the very least, traditionalists will assume that while Romulus, and possibly his brother Remus, were real people, the events attributed to their lives – such as virgin births, being the sons of a god, raised by wolves and woodpeckers, ascended into heaven without dying – these events would be regarded as mere mythology painted against the lives of otherwise real people. Maybe Romulus really founded Rome after killing his brother, but his mother wasn’t really a virgin, and he didn’t really ascend into heaven without dying. Additionally, he probably was never set upon a river in a basket, and he certainly wasn’t rescued by the River god and raised by suckling a she-wolf.

Perhaps you already see where I’m going with this.

Can we not – indeed, should we not – apply the same rational analysis to the life of Jesus? Why do we reject the mythology surrounding Romulus, but accept as theological truth an identical mythology surrounding Jesus? Why is it absurd, to our 21st century, post-Newtonian mindset, to consider that Romulus was really born of a union between Mars, the god of war, and a virgin, but it’s not absurd to our 21st century, post-Newtonian mindset to consider that Jesus was born of a union between Yaweh (also a warrior god, incidentally) and a virgin? Why do we suspend disbelief for one, but not the other? And more importantly, why don’t we apply the same rational analysis to the biblical story that we apply to all other ancient mythologies?

Of course, in the end, there is no unified answer. As I said above, skeptics will largely agree with me, and traditionalists will simply shrug these questions off, or offer (what I believe to be) those all-too-convenient Sunday School answers.

But for the traditionalists among us, let me at least encourage you to give these ideas some thought. What is your core motivation? Why do you reject one, but not the other? Why do you use reason and logic with one, but not the other?

I suppose what I am arguing is not unlike the old atheist adage that says something like, “Think of all the reasons why you reject Zeus, Odin, Thor, Mars, and Osiris. I reject the Christian god for the same reasons.”

Of course, I don’t personally reject the Christian God. What I reject is the traditional Christian notion of God. I believe that God is far too great, and far too transcendent, to be limited by Christian (or any other religion’s) theology.

So, for the traditionalist reader, please consider the story of Romulus and Remus. I think there is a lesson in there somewhere, for anyone who wants to hear it.

Some Final Thoughts on 2006

As the final minutes tick away on 2006, I thought I'd sit down and try to record a few of my thoughts on the past year.

At the start of the year, I was in a period of transition. I had begun a new job at a [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] on December 30th of 2005, marking the first time in over a year that I had had a regular 40-hour a week desk job. It was also a job in an entirely new industry for me, so I was learning the ropes basically from the bottom of the barrel. I was also continuing to work, at that time, at [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS], waiting tables on the weekend. By February, that simply proved too stressful, so I finally quit the restaurant and started working solely at the [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS].

During the first half of the year, [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] and I were preparing for the impending birth of our second daughter, trying to figure out how we were going to make ends meet, and waiting to hear from the various graduate schools I had applied to the previous fall (I was hoping to enter graduate school in Creative Writing). We were sort of in a holding period for the first four months or so of the year, pending the outcome of those applications. We knew we could be moving anywhere from Memphis to Tucson, or not going anywhere at all.

It seemed to take forever for those responses to start coming back, and when they did, it was nothing but disappointment after disappointment. Despite applying to nine different programs, I didn't get accepted anywhere. The consensus from the various programs seemed to be that I was a fine writer with solid test scores, but simply wasn't writing the sort of fiction that the programs were looking for. In retrospect, considering the "commercial" nature of my fiction, I suppose this isn't so shocking. Most graduate school fiction programs, I would think, would be focusing on literary fiction, not commercial fiction. I had known that going in, but I had figured it was worth a shot.

Be that as it may, I was mightily disappointed by not getting accepted anywhere. I had more or less convinced myself that I would at least get in somewhere. When that didn't happen, [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] and I were left at a crossroads. We had been planning for so long on moving in the summer of 2006, that once we were left with no where to go, we didn't know quite what to do. I had started the job at the [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] under the assumption that it would just be a temporary job. Now I was faced with staying there for at least another year, and attempting to get into graduate school in 2007.

That just wasn't very appealing to me or [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS]. So we began very seriously considering a move to [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS]. We had talked of moving down there ever since college. In fact, we had initially planned on moving there when we got married, but ended up backing out at the last minute (this being back in 1997), and staying in this area instead. Now it was nine years down the road, and we figured if we were ever going to go, now was the time. We wanted a change of scenery, and we had been expecting, for so long, to be moving, that it just seemed to make sense for us to go down there. Mom and Dad would be close to help out with the new baby, and from our searches on the Internet it appeared that housing was cheaper and the job market was better than here in [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS].

We made all the preparations - we looked for houses, jobs, daycares. [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] began the process of learning how to transfer her [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] from [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] to [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS], and my Mom began finding out about some reputable daycares for our daughters.

In the end, as we had in 1997, we ended up changing our minds. After our second daughter was born in May, and we had all the stress that goes along with having a new baby in the house, the very idea of picking up and moving just seemed absurd. We also realized that no matter what we did once we got there, we were going to have to live with my parents for at least a little while, and we realized that was going to be stressful on everyone involved. We simply decided that it was more stress than it was worth, and ultimately it didn't make sense, because if I applied again for graduate school, and got accepted, we'd very likely be moving again the following year.

Once we had decided to stay in [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS], I had to face a second dilemma - what to do about my job situation. As I said above, I had never planned on staying with the [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] more than just a few months. I had figured it would be a sort of "transition" between waiting tables and starting graduate school. I didn't want to wait tables anymore, and I needed better money. So it was originally intended to simply function as a stop gap for a few months, until we moved and I started school. Now that I wasn't going to school, and we weren't moving, I needed to find a new job.

As I had done the previous year, when I had been unemployed, I began sending out resume after resume. Most of them were for various [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] around town, but a number of them were also in completely new industries. I applied for everything from merchandising to customer service to marketing.

I couldn't get so much as a phone call from anybody.

I managed to get one interview out of all those applications, and it was for a merchandising job with a contractor inside Home Depot. The job consisted of point of sale merchandising...basically setting up the displays and products to help sell them. It also included daily inventories and such. A fairly basic job, one that would allow me to work on my own without direct supervision - right up my alley. It also had flexible hours - I could come in anytime I wanted (as early as 4 a.m.), and once I had put in my eight hours, I could leave. So I could have conceivably worked something like 6:00 to 2:00 and been home before [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] every afternoon. Unfortunately the pay was less than I was making at the [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS], and it simply wasn't something I could do.

By late August, just as we were getting ready to put the new baby in daycare, and take on all the extra expenses associated with two kids in daycare instead of just one, I was facing the necessity of having to get a second job. I was dreading it and didn't want to do it, but there was no other choice. Then, the very week before we were due to start the kids in daycare, I got an unexpected raise, and [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] yearly raise also came through that same week. My raise, as I said, was unexpected, and hers was higher than we had expected. Because of that, I was able to avoid having to get that second job - at least for the time being.

With some of the financial pressure relieved, I was able to start considering other options for my future. By that time, I had begun to second guess my desire to go to graduate school. Even if I could get in the second time around, I wasn't sure any longer if teaching Creative Writing at the collegiate level was really something I wanted to do. What I really wanted to do was write, not teach writing.

But if I didn't go to graduate school, I had to do something. Working as a [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] for the rest of my life (or until I could get a book published) was unthinkable. So I began to consider going to school to be an MRI/CT tech. My mother, who runs a [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS], and a good friend who is a 5th year radiology resident, had both been encouraging me for quite some time to take that route. The pay is excellent, the job security is unmatched, the demand is high, the benefits are great, and the hours are flexible. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it would be a good way for me to make enough money to support my family, have enough free time to pursue my writing, and also have a job that would allow me a way to offer a viable service to the community and to help people.

In the end, I decided to take this route. So in September, I enrolled in an X-ray tech program at a local technical college. This is a 15-month program, and once I am through with it, I will be able to start working as an X-ray tech, while I continue on into the second half of the program, getting trained to operate MRI's and other digital diagnostic machines.

The last part of 2006 was quite stressful. I was adjusting to being in school full time (four nights a week, three and a half hours each night) and working full time, Monday through Friday. My weekends consisted of juggling time for myself, time with my family, and study time. There wasn't much time to breathe or to slow down. Monday through Thursday, especially, I felt like all I did was go to work, go to school, and sleep. When the quarter ended in mid-December, I was very thankful for the break.

Despite the stress, I excelled in my classes, quickly gaining a reputation as the "smart one." That was definitely a new experience for me - I've always considered myself fairly intelligent, and I think those who know me would agree, but I never "excelled" in school before. I always did just enough to get by, but never "applied" myself (God, how many times did I hear teachers and professors say that - "He just doesn't apply himself..."). I graduated from [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] with a 2.96, and I had about the same in high school. I was never a straight-A student by any means. Be that as it may, I did get straight A's this fall. In fact, I didn't make less than an A on any project, paper, homework, or test in any class all quarter.

It's now 11:38 and the confetti will be flying in 22 minutes in Times Square. As I look back on 2006, I see it as sort of a transition year - my first full year back with [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] after a two year separation and divorce, a new job, a new baby, and taking classes again for the first time in nine years. All of those were great things, but they were all things that brought an inordinate amount of stress too.

But as I look ahead to 2007, I want to focus on the here and now. Happiness is not something you attain or strive to reach. It's a choice. It's equally available to the poor, the rich, the sick, the healthy, the fat, the skinny, the attractive, the ugly, the successful, and the unsuccessful. It's not some far off finish line, to be reached when certain parameters, goals, and dreams have been fulfilled. It's available here and now, for whoever chooses to grab it. It's a choice.

So as I go into 2007, I intend to focus on my family, my schoolwork, and my health. I hope to exercise more often, eat better, continue on my path of sobriety (which, thankfully, I have been on for several months now), and get back into my meditation and yoga routines. But whether I manage to fulfill all those goals or not, I am going to choose happiness. Even when the money is tight and I come in from a long day at work and school, and [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] is demanding food and drink and the house is a mess, and even when I'm sitting at work thinking about how terrible it feels to be a 31-year-old [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] making less than [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS] per year, I'm going to remember that happiness is a choice, and I am going to choose happiness.

It is now 11:50 p.m. in [EDITED FOR SECURITY AND PRIVACY REASONS]. Earlier in the evening, at exactly 7:00 p.m., I got a text from my parents, who are vacationing right now in England, the strip of land that manages to run through the time zone we call Greenwich Mean Time. HAPPY NEW YEAR! the text said.

Let's hope so.

Better yet, let's choose so.

The Murder of Thomas Becket

On this day, December 29, in the year 1170, Thomas Becket was murdered inside Canterbury Cathedral.



He was murdered at this spot.



He had been at odds with King Henry II for several years.



When Henry made a comment (or a series of comments) before his knights about wishing to be rid of the nuisance priest, his knights took his comments as an order to assassinate Becket.



In later years, an apologetic Henry publicly asked for penance before Becket’s shrine. The stairs leading up to the shrine were trodden by so many pilgrims that the stone became worn.



An excellent novel that takes place during the 12th century, and includes a fictionalization of Becket’s murder and the events leading up to it, is Ken Follett's book The Pillars of the Earth. You’ll notice this book in my Must Read Books list. It’s one of my all time favorites. Reading it was sort of like watching the movie Titanic...it was so engrossing that you didn’t realize how long it was.

Today should be an extraordinarily slow day at work, so I’ll try to see if I can’t write a poem or two to post on The Writing Desk for your reading enjoyment.

P.S. – I spent much of yesterday attempting to get my blogs a bit more traffic from the web. I submitted them for indexing on the major search engines, and I set up feeds for both blogs. You may notice a bunch of new buttons on the sidebars of Serene Musings and The Writing Desk. For any of you who have personalized Yahoo! or Google homepages, you can now add my blog feeds to your homepage. Simply click on the button, then follow the instructions. By doing so, you can have a tab on your Yahoo! or Google homepage with my blogs, and it will show the updated headlines of any new posts that I put up. I also have buttons for Google Reader, MSN, and several other homepage websites, in case you use any of those.

You may also notice a counter now at the bottom of both my blogs. Now I’ll be able to see just how much traffic I’m getting (of course, right now, the majority of those views are from me going to my pages to add buttons and links).

Westminster Abbey and a New Car

Well, it’s one of those days where I want to write about something deep, philosophical, and relevant, but I can’t think of anything.

I got on Wikipedia to read up on Today in History, but nothing there really sparked my interest all that much. The only thing of note was that today is the 941st anniversary of the consecration of Westminster Abbey, in 1065. It was built by Edward the Confessor, and he had planned to be buried in it after he died. It was consecrated on December 28, 1065, and he died just a few weeks later in January of 1066. Little did he know the impact on history that his death would have!

Mom and Dad are traveling today to England. I don’t know if they’re going to visit the Abbey this time around or not. They’ve been there in the past.

On a different note, I took delivery of my new vehicle yesterday. Joan drove it down from Cincinnati. I am really excited to finally have a full-sized car. It’s the first full-sized vehicle Melanie and I have ever owned. I listened to a CD on the way to work this morning, and it was sublime! Who would have thought that something so simple and ordinary could evoke smiles on a Thursday morning drive to work? When we leased that little truck right after we got married, it did have a CD player in it (actually, it was a 6-CD changer), so this isn’t the first vehicle I’ve owned with a CD player in it. But it is the first one I’ve owned with an in-dash CD player. Melanie’s SUV has an in-dash CD player, but I never drive that, unless we’re all going somewhere together.

Now we have to complete the buying process. It’s pretty convoluted. First, we have to get the insurance switched over (which Melanie, thankfully, has already taken care of). Then we have to wait for the title to arrive. Then we have to wait for the lien to get officially removed from my old car. Then we have to sell that old car. Then we have to get the application for a license signed and notarized, including getting it signed by Gerald (since he owned the car previously). Then we have to take the application, proof of insurance, and the title to the licensing place, and pay 400 dollars for the taxes (which is why we have to sell my old car first – so we have the money for the taxes). So anyway, it’s just a long, convoluted process.

But it’s worth it!

Egypt and England: A Comparison

Just to give you an idea of how unimaginably long the ancient Egyptian civilization flourished as a unified nation, consider this:

A man named Narmer was Egypt’s first king. He was a warrior who took control of the Upper and Lower Kingdoms of Egypt, and combined the various Egyptian provinces into one unified kingdom. He is widely considered the first Egyptian Pharaoh, and he established what is known as the 1st Dynasty of Egyptian rulers. He lived and ruled around 3100 B.C.E.

The pyramids at Giza were built during the 4th Dynasty, roughly 2500 B.C.E., or 600 years after Narmer. The last pharaoh of the 6th Dynasty, Pepi II, took the throne at age 6, and is believed to have lived to at least the age of 100. His official reign of 94 years is still the longest monarchical reign in recorded history. When he died, however, his dynasty ended (he had, no doubt, outlived all his heirs), and thus the “Old Kingdom” of Egyptian history came to an end. The next five dynasties existed during the period known as the First Intermediate Period – an era characterized by decentralized governments, weak rulers, famines, wars, invasions, etc. Very little is known of the history of this period, which lasted from roughly 2200 to 2000 B.C.E.

Powerful rulers and a re-establishment of a strong central government helped usher in the Middle Kingdom, a period which saw an increase in the production of history, art, and architecture. This period of relative stability lasted until about 1700 B.C.E., when a race of Asiatic people began to invade Egypt. They are known as the Hyksos, and they ushered in a period of unrest and civil war, ruling Egypt as foreigners, and establishing what is now called the Second Intermediate Period in Egyptian History. The Hyksos primarily controlled Lower Egypt (the northern half of Egypt), while a weaker Egyptian king ruled from Thebes in the south. In time, the Hyksos came to control all of Egypt, with the Theban rulers either pledging allegiance to the Hyksos, or ruling in exile.

Beginning in roughly 1550 B.C.E., the Hyksos were finally defeated and driven out of Egypt by a pharaoh named Kamose, who was a native Egyptian and a member of the ruling Theban family. His successor, Ahmose I, established the 18th Dynasty, which marks the beginning of what is known as the New Kingdom. The New Kingdom lasted until roughly 1050 B.C.E., and is considered the Golden Age of ancient Egypt. These were the centuries in which Egypt was its most powerful, controlling not only its own borders, but many of the tribes and civilizations throughout North Africa and the Middle East. The production of art, literature, history, and architecture boomed during this period, and this period saw the reigns of such powerful and well-known kings as Akhenaten (who abolished the traditional gods in favor of single god), the powerful Queen Hatshepsut, who called herself a king, built many monuments, and even wore the traditional false beard of the pharaohs, Ramesses II, and King Tut.

The Third Intermediate Period ushered in yet another period of decentralization of government and civil war. It lasted about 400 years, until the beginning of the Late Period, starting in 650 B.C.E. The 26th Dynasty ruled during this time, and proved to be the last of the native Egyptian rulers of Egypt. After that, beginning in about 525 B.C.E., the Persians conquered Egypt and ruled for several hundred years, up until the invasion of Egypt by Alexander the Great in about 338 B.C.E. After that, the Greeks ruled Egypt until 30 B.C.E., when Cleopatra VII committed suicide and the Romans took control under Octavius.

Now, having taken that brief trip through 3,000 years of ancient Egyptian history (and that only took us up to the time of Jesus!), let’s compare that long establishment of civilization and culture with our own current establishment of civilization and culture.

Since much of America was settled by Anglos from the UK, and most Americans today can trace their lineage back to the British Isles, I am going to focus this comparison on British history.

The English Narmer is a man by the name of Alfred. Alfred lived in the mid- to late-9th century (he died in 899 C.E.). Prior to his time, the British isles had been divided up into a series of petty kingdoms and principalities, with the majority of the population descended from a group of people from northern Germania who had been called the Angles. The Angles were referred to as a tribe in northern Germania as early as 98 C.E. in the writings of the historian Tacitus. This tribe of people made their way to the British isles, where they eventually settled and established a number of small city-states and provinces. By the time of Alfred, Angleland (or, England), was made up of the provinces of Northumbria, East Anglia, Mercia, Kent, Sussex, Wessex, and Essex. Each of these provinces had their own ruling families and kings, and they were intermittently at war and peace with each other.

It was not unlike the Pre-Dynastic Period of Egyptian history, when Egypt was divided into provinces and ruled by a series of chieftains and warrior kings, warring and making peace, but never unifying under one central leader.

Into this world came the English Narmer, Alfred. Alfred was the brother of the West Saxon king, Ethelred. Beginning in roughly 860 C.E., Danish invaders began to land in northern England, in the kingdom of Northumbria. Called Vikings by the English, the Danes slowly began to make their way across the British mainland, plundering and either deposing or buying the allegiance of the various provincial kings. Northumbria fell first, followed by East Anglia and Mercia. As king of Wessex, Ethelred and his brother Alfred fought alongside the Mercians against the Danes, but retreated back to Wessex after Mercia fell.

In 870, the Vikings came to plunder Wessex. Alfred – who led his brother’s army – fought as many as 9 battles that year against the Danish invaders, and succeeded in keeping them out of Wessex.

In 871, Ethelred died, and although he had two sons, both were still children, and so Alfred was able to take the throne of Wessex. Over the next several years, Alfred continued to fight the Danes, and ultimately made peace with them in 878, splitting England into two halves – with Alfred controlling the southeast, and the Danes controlling the northeast, including London. For several years there was peace, with the British island (excluding Wales and Scotland) comprised of two provinces – England and Danelaw.

However, the Vikings were not satisfied with only half of England, and by the mid-880’s, they began attacking English towns and villages. Alfred struck back with force, capturing London in 886, and ultimately driving the Vikings out of England by 896. He died in 899 as the first king of a unified England. He had first pronounced himself Rex Anglorum – King of the English – after capturing London.

A line of kings followed Alfred, known today as the “West Saxon” kings. They ruled England until the first decade of the 1000’s when the Vikings returned. In ancient Egyptian language, this might be called the “First Intermediate Period.”

The Vikings defeated Ethelred II (earning him the nickname “Ethelred the Unready”), and took control of England, beginning with Canute in 1016 C.E. Canute married Ethelred’s widow, and their two sons ultimately succeed him to the throne.

In 1042, Ethelred II’s son Edward returned from exile in Normandy. He was beloved by the West Saxon population of England, and was ultimately named successor to his half brother Harthacanute (Harthacanute was the second son of Edward’s mother and Canute). Edward became known as Edward the Confessor, and his reign re-established West Saxon control of the throne of England.

In 1066, Edward died without a child. Prior to his death, he had publicly named his grand nephew, Edgar, as his heir. However, Harold Godwinson, the earl of Wessex, was the second most powerful man in England after Edward, and claimed (through his earldom in Wessex) to be descended from Alfred (he was also Edward’s brother-in-law). So upon Edward’s death, he claimed the throne.

However, William, Duke of Normandy, had his eyes on the throne of England (he was the grand nephew of Edward’s mother – the same one who had been married to both Ethelred II and Canute), and he claimed that Edward had promised the throne to him during a trip to England some years earlier (if this is true, it was never made public...English records show only Edgar as the named heir of Edward). William also claimed that Harold had pledged his support to William’s kingship during a shipwreck in 1064, in which William had aided Harold. Harold denied this.

Thus, the stage was set for the Battle of Hastings, which occurred in October of 1066. William’s army won, Harold was killed, and William became King of England.

All of these events, from Alfred to William, took place over the course of about 200 years. By ancient Egyptian standards, we are still nearly 400 years from the building of the Great Pyramids at Giza.

William was succeeded by his son, William Rufus, and his second son, Henry. Henry had no sons, and since there was no precedent, at the time, for a woman to claim the throne of England, Stephen, the French Count of Blois, claimed the throne (Stephen was the grandson of William the Conqueror by his mother). Matilda, the daughter of King Henry, and granddaughter of William the Conqueror, also claimed the throne, thus setting the stage for what we might call the “Second Intermediate Period” in English history.

After a series of civil wars, ransoms, and vacillating allegiances from the various English nobles, Stephen managed to hang on to the crown, but only by publicly naming Matilda’s son Henry as his heir. Thus, Stephen became the only English king from the House of Blois.

Henry II established the Plantagenet dynasty, which produced such kings as Richard the Lionheart, Edward I (the king demonized in the film “Braveheart”), and Edward III.

Richard III proved to be the last Plantagenet king. He usurped the throne from his nephew, Edward V, and most likely had the young king murdered. Richard’s actions led to uprising and civil war, culminating with his death at the Battle of Bosworth Field. He was the last English monarch to be killed in battle.

By ancient Egyptian standards, Richard III died about the time the third pyramid was being built at Giza.

After Richard III, the Tudors took control of the English throne, and this dynasty included Henry VIII and Elizabeth I. The Stuarts followed, then the period of civil war when Charles I was beheaded and Oliver Cromwell established what is known as the Commonwealth (perhaps the Third Intermediate Period?). The Stuarts were restored after the destruction of the Commonwealth, but their line ended with the tragic figure of Queen Anne, who – despite more than fifteen pregnancies – produced no children who lived past the age of 11.

This inability to produce an heir on the part of Queen Anne set the stage for the Hanoverians to take the throne of England. They were the rulers of a German province called Hanover, and were very distantly related to the Stuarts. Under their watch, both the American and French Revolutions occurred, and their direct descendents are still on the throne of England today.

The American Revolution occurred at the point in British history that would have coincided with the end of the Old Kingdom of ancient Egypt, and the beginning of the First Intermediate Period. World War II began at roughly the point in time when the Middle Kingdom pharaohs began to flourish in ancient Egypt.

By Egyptian standards, the Anglo West is still 300 years from the Hyksos invasion, 700 years from the reigns of King Tut and Ramesses II, 1,700 years from Alexander the Great, and 2,000 years from Julius Caesar and Cleopatra.

And 4,000 years from Elizabeth II, Bush II, and 9/11.

Kind of a mind freak, isn’t it?

A Christmas Carol

"The poulterers' shops were still half open, and the fruiterers' were radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence."

Over the last few days, I read Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol for the first time. Of course, I have seen the story done on stage a number of times (mostly as a child), and the various movies are a yearly Christmas tradition. (My favorite, as many of you might know, is Albert Finney's portrayal in the early 1970's British musical version "Scrooge." I've already watched it once this year, and may do so again.) But despite being very familiar with the story itself through stage and film, and despite having bought a copy of the book some years back, I had never taken the time to sit down and read the story.

So, having bought a new edition of the book after Christmas last year, I finally sat down a few days ago and began the original story.

It was absolutely sublime!

As much as I love the film and stage adaptations of the story, the book was just wonderful. So full of color and imagination and description - you could fairly feel the 19th century London cold, the piles of apples and oranges on the street carts, the hawkers calling out to passers-by bundled head-to-toe in woolen coats and boots.

This really is the quintessential Victorian Christmas story. I suppose I'm only about 170 years late in determining that, but now that I have read the story, I can see why it was such an instantaneous hit with readers. It was so successful during his lifetime, in fact, that Dickens began a tradition of writing Christmas stories every year. The edition of A Christmas Carol that I purchased last year has two other Dickens Christmas stories in it as well, although I have not yet dived into those two.

So I highly recommend this book. If you have seen any or most of the various Scrooge movies that have been made over the years, much of the book will be familiar, but there are a few scenes here and there that I have never seen re-enacted in a play or a movie, including a trip out to a mining colony on the coast of England, and a hovering ride over the English Channel to view Christmas on a Navy ship.

Even after all these years of watching movies and plays based upon this story, I was still moved, emotionally, while reading this book, particularly during the scenes with the Cratchit family. And at the end, I almost felt a tear well up when Scrooge showed up on his nephew's doorstep for Christmas Lunch.

I'll end this post with one of the more poignant passages from the book. The Ghost of Christmas Present has just reminded Scrooge of his harsh words about how if the poor are going to die "then they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population." The Ghost told him this after Scrooge expressed concern about whether or not Tiny Tim would die. The Ghost goes on to say the following:

"Man," said the Ghost, "if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! To hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust."

That last line, in particular, strikes a powerful chord. How relevent, 170 years downstream, and in another country, for the self-righteous protestations of the wealthy American!

Christmas at Sparrows Down

As promised in a recent post (I know you all have been waiting with bated breath), here are some pictures of the Christmas decorum at Sparrows Down.





This nativity scene has been in our family since I was a kid. I guess it's as old or older than I am. Hailey loves to play with it now, just like Elissa and I did when we were kids.





This is what we photographers call a "perspective" shot.





I'm pleased with how my nutcrackers have turned out this year. Last year I put them on top of the wall ledge that runs perpendicular to where the TV is sitting (you can see the ledge on the left side of the shot in the first nutcracker picture). I didn't like them as well there as I do on top of the TV. They are all standing on stacks of National Geographics. Melanie added the garland, which turned out nice, I thought.

The Silver-Cloaked Dagger

Ah, the Christmas Bonus! Another silver-cloaked dagger of the capitalist mentality.

~ B.K.C.

I worked for nearly 7 years for a company that engaged in an annual Christmas bonus program.

Each year, we would wait for Christmas with trepidation, wondering if we would get Christmas bonuses this year, making tentative plans for what could be purchased with said bonus, and despairing over what would happen if the bonuses didn't come through.

I got $400 my first year, and $500 each of my second and third years. During the 4th year, I moved up to $600, and by years 5 and 6, I received $1000 each year.

On the eighth day of December, in year 7, I got fired. It was exactly one week before our annual Christmas party, where bonuses were traditionally handed out. By firing me before the Christmas party, they didn't have to give me my Christmas bonus that year. They did this despite knowing I had a 2-year old daughter and had purchased a new house not 3 weeks previously. Why should they care? Business considerations come before personal considerations, after all.

This year will be my first Christmas with my current company. I started on December 30th of last year, so I missed any Christmas-related activities that might have taken place. We have a planned Christmas party on December 21st. I do not know if my current company gives Christmas bonuses or not. I am inclined to think not, but you never know. More than likely, the partners get a bonus but the support staff doesn't. You know how it goes...those who make 6 figures get the bonus, while those who work for an hourly wage get nothing.

But maybe I'm wrong. I guess I'll have to wait and see if I get the silver-cloaked dagger, or if it's just the plain old ax.

A Christmas of Innocence

Some of my best childhood Christmas memories were of the Living Christmas Tree at Walnut Street Baptist Church in Louisville, Kentucky.

The minister of music, Gene Sutherland, would put on a Christmas extravaganza every year that included a 50-foot Christmas tree packed with singers. Starting at the bottom, each row would have successively fewer singers, until the very top row, where a single female singer always stood, like the angel atop the tree.

Typically, there were several weeks of performances, for which practice would start in the early fall. Accompanying an array of Christmas songs would be various stage acts as well, usually incorporating more singers and children.

Since my parents were active in the choir, they were both routinely part of the Living Christmas Tree each year. I don't think my Mom did it every year, but I know my Dad did. Dad was always on the second row from the top - a row of only two people - right below the angel. I always felt that this meant he garnered a position of importance within the hierarchy of the Walnut Street Choir. I was proud to be his son.

My memories of the Living Christmas Tree are warm and cozy - good music, great visual effects, and that latent feeling of excitement that seems to stick in every child's mind throughout the month of December.

I guess my favorite Living Christmas Tree year was 1987 - the only year I was involved in the production. I was asked that year by Gene Sutherland to play a role in one of the stage acts. Basically, I stood on stage with a plastic trumpet, and at the appropriate time in the song, I raised the trumpet up as though to herald the birth of the Christ child. There were 3 trumpeters in the skit, rotated between performances among about 5 guys from the youth group.

As the skit/song that heralded Jesus's birth, this was probably the highlight of the entire program. It was a very powerful song, with a spine-tingling climax, and it always received the most raucous and heart-felt applause. In one performance, a black lady got caught up in the spirit and stood up after the striking of the final chord and spontaneously shouted "Hallelujah!" I know it seems odd - and it's quite funny in retrospect - and yet even now, 18 years down the road, I'm getting chills just thinking about it - that feeling of religious ecstasy which that song brought on, and which was put into words by that spontaneous utterance.

I sort of miss being able to feel that way...to feel so caught up in a religious moment like that, where any doubts and any skepticisms are washed clean away, leaving only certainty, comfort, and spiritual bliss.

When we did the last performance that year, I remember walking out into the parking lot with my Dad afterward, heading out to the car. And I remember walking there in that parking lot, the lightposts casting long, orange shadows across the dark pavement, while my breath condensed on the chilly air, and I remember feeling so utterly depressed - maybe more depressed than I had ever felt in my whole life. I didn't even understand it. I wanted to cry.

The reason I was so depressed is because it was over. All that hard work, all the rehearsals, dressing up in the costume, getting to stand there during that powerful song every night, experiencing the warm camaraderie with the other actors, feeling important because I was part of the show that people were flocking to come see - now it was all over. Finished. The tree would come down and be put away in some storage facility until next year. And I might not even get to be in it again. Maybe this was just a one time thing, and they wouldn't ask me next year.

Well, as it turned out, I wasn't in it the next year, and, in fact, I was never in it again. But that wasn't because I wasn't asked. In March of 1988, my grandfather died after a long bout with cancer. Then in the early summer, we moved to Cincinnati.

Nothing was ever quite the same after that. I remember Christmas of 1988, in our new house, and I do recall that particular Christmas with fondness - in fact, I've long said that Christmas, our first in Cincinnati, was the last Christmas of my childhood. It was the last time I remember having that distinct childhood excitement associated with Christmas. It was the last time I really felt consumed by the season.

I was 13 years old.

But, in retrospect, I think the last real Christmas of my childhood was in 1987. Our last Christmas in Louisville, my first and only experience performing in the Living Christmas Tree, and my last Christmas before starting that long, difficult, awkward road that took me through adolescence and young adulthood.

It was the last Christmas of innocence.

And I think the innocence first began to bleed away that cold night in mid-December, when I walked through that parking lot with my Dad, realizing that the show was over. Little did I know, then, that it wasn't just the show that was ending.

I got to see some Living Christmas Tree performances in later years - we would come back to Louisville to visit my grandparents, and we'd go see the show. I guess the last time would have been sometime in the early 1990's.

On doing a little research today, I discovered that Walnut Street no longer does a Living Christmas Tree performance. I know that Gene Sutherland is long gone (he died some years back), and I suppose his successors didn't continue the tradition. I don't know how many years its been since they quit doing it.

Strangely, on doing an Internet search, I came across a different Walnut Street Baptist Church. This one is somewhere in Arkansas.

And, remarkably enough, they have an active and current Living Christmas Tree program.

I don't quite know why, but somehow that's a comforting coincidence.

Thank God I Don't Have to Thank God

On my way home for lunch today, I drove past a house in our neighborhood that sustained some wind damage this past weekend from an arctic cold front that has moved into our area. The damage consists of a large section of vinyl siding that has come off the side of the house, exposing the insulation and packing material underneath.

As I was driving by, I thought I saw a statue of the Blessed Virgin on the front porch of the house. Upon closer inspection, I realized that whatever had caught my eye was not a statue at all. I think it may have been a shadow. But regardless, for that split second in which I thought they had a statue of Mary on their porch, the thought ran through my mind, “Well, I guess the Blessed Virgin didn’t help keep their house safe during that storm.”

This fleeting notion began a whole train of thought for me about finding the good in bad situations, and thanking God (or whichever god, saint, or prophet you prefer) for those good things we find in bad situations.

Most importantly, I began thinking about whether it’s appropriate and emotionally satisfying to connect the two.

In the scenario above, a good Christian wouldn’t say: “Well, I lost some vinyl siding in the windstorm, so God obviously didn’t protect my house.” A good Christian would say: “Boy, I’m glad a few pieces of vinyl siding is all we lost. God really blessed us.”

But what if it hadn’t been vinyl siding, but rather several broken windows?

“Well, a few windows got broken, but that’s easy to repair. It could have been the whole roof that blew off. God really protected us.”

What if the roof had blown off?

“Well, we lost our roof, but at least our whole house wasn’t taken from us, and we didn’t lose any vital possessions. We can get a new roof. God was really watching out for us.”

What if the whole house had been blown over?

“Well, we lost our house and possessions, but at least none of us where hurt. We still have our health, family, and loved ones, and material possessions can be replaced. God really took care of us.”

You see how that works? No matter how bad the situation is, religious people can always find away to give the credit to God.

Now, I’m not suggesting that it’s bad, or irresponsible, to look for the silver lining, or to focus on the good in a bad situation. Of course that’s a better, happier way to live, and I would encourage anyone to do this. The question is whether it’s appropriate to bring God into the equation.

I don’t wish to discuss whether God exists or doesn’t exist. That’s material for a different topic. For the sake of argument, let’s assume that some kind of “creator” or “all-loving” deity does exist, whether or not we can ever know this deity. Even assuming that, is it reasonable or appropriate to bring God into the equation in situations like this?

If you simply try to be positive, and look for the good in every bad situation, I would think this would help you to deal better with stressful situations, have a more pleasant outlook on life, and generally get through difficult times more quickly and with less negative side effects.

But if you choose to couple that with your conception of God, and attribute the good things drawn from bad situations to God’s “blessings,” then I would think you would actually decrease your overall happiness, your ability to handle tough situations, and your ability to pick up the pieces and move on.

If you leave God out of it, then you are simply thinking positively, focusing on the good, and learning to see difficult times, and even tragedies, as temporary in nature and not life-shattering or earth-shattering events.

By drawing God into it, and saying things like, “Well, we didn’t lose the house, so God really blessed us,” you are suggesting that God is physically capable of protecting your house, and therefore could have protected your roof too, but chose not to.

I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t make me feel better. In fact, that makes me feel worse. Why didn’t God protect my roof too, as well as my house? No one else’s roof came off. Why did mine? Is God trying to test me? Why would God want to do that? Don’t I have enough stress in my life as it is?

For the intellectually honest person, bringing God into the equation just raises myriad unanswerable questions - which leaves you ultimately either feeling disillusioned, or forced to fall back onto the same old “God works in mysterious ways” argument, which is unsatisfying to start with.

So my feeling is that it is best not to bring God into the scenario. God neither caused the damage to your house, nor prevented it. A storm came through and your house got damaged. End of story. Look on the bright side, find the positives in the bad situation, and begin moving on.

Injecting God into the situation only hinders recovery and healing, because it brings up so many unanswerable questions, and it turns God into some kind of capricious, uncaring wizard, who intercedes in human affairs at his whim, takes apparent pleasure in our suffering, demands our complete faithfulness, and feels the overwhelming urge to continually “test” us to make sure we stay in line.

I don’t want to worship a god like that, and that’s why I am learning not to conceive of God as a whimsical and capricious supernatural genie – which is exactly what the traditional concepts of God imply about God’s nature. Only a whimsical, untrustworthy, insecure deity would be capable of saving my roof, but choose not to.

So I wouldn't thank God that my house was saved. I would just focus on the fact that I only lost my roof, which can be repaired, and this frees me to heal from the tragedy, and to move on in life, working to spread love, be all that I can be, and live my life to the fullest – which is what “thanking God” really means to me.

Happy Monday

I have to give a presentation tonight in class on an emergency medical condition. It's a group probject, so I've got a partner who has been involved too. We're doing it on heart attacks. In preparing for this, I learned that Monday morning is one of the most common times for heart attacks to occur.

Happy Monday!

Anyway. We finished putting up the Christmas stuff this weekend. I've got my nutcrackers lined up atop the television this year. Not the television itself, but the big cabinet that houses the television. I'll take pictures and post them. I also organized the closet in my office, where we keep the Christmas stuff, so it was nice to get that cleaned out.

Hailey really likes the Christmas tree, and she has been playing with it constantly since we put it up last weekend. She's constantly taking the ornaments off and replacing them in other spots. I can remember, as a kid, doing similar things. The other day, I discovered one of Hailey's ponytail holders hanging from a branch. She had clearly placed it there as though it were an ornament.

Our Christmas tree is in bad shape. It's a Wal-Mart special, purchased the first year we lived in our first house. I guess that would have been 2000. The base has broken, and instead of 4 legs, it only has 2. So it's being propped up on one side by 2 National Geographics, a coffee table book on the Great Pyramids, and a hardback of Wilbur Smith's Birds of Prey.

I was able to get Melanie and the kids out of the house for a few hours yesterday, so I binge cleaned and did all the laundry and dishes. It was nice to get the house picked up and get everything caught up. But between that and organizing the closet and getting the rest of the Christmas stuff put up, I was pretty tired. Then I had to finish up my presenation preparation and also study for the test I have in that class tonight. So it was a busy Sunday.

Saturday, we went to Northern Kentucky and had dinner with Melanie's sister and parents. We also drove up to downtown Cincinnati and saw the annual Christmas train display in the Duke Engery building. I hadn't seen that since I was in early high school, so it was kind of neat to see it again. Byron would have loved it (as he always did back then).