Lift Up Your Hearts!

The Visitation, by Frank Peretti (W Publishing Group, Nashville, Tennessee, 2003)

I believe it was Samuel Goldwyn who said, "If you want to send a message, use Western Union." He had a point. Great writers manage to convey many messages through their works, but people who start writing with a message in mind tend to write mediocre novels.

I find Frank Peretti's stories entertaining, and better than much so-called Christian fiction; certainly worlds better than the popular LaHaye/Jenkins Left Behind series. There's no doubt that his writing style and technique have improved considerably over the years, too. But Peretti always seems to have a particular axe to grind. One of his best books, Monster, still has specific points about evolution/creation and the perils of genetic engineering which he makes rather heavy-handedly. The Visitation suffers from the same problem, and more.

I believe it was C. S. Lewis who noted that most authors' evil characters seem real enough, but they cannot portray goodness well at all. (An excellent example would be the Lord of the Rings movies, which unlike the books apparently tried to convey goodness by making the characters look stoned.) He was writing about Scottish author George MacDonald, whom he said had the opposite defect: he made goodness believable and desirable, but his villains tended to be cardboard, stock characters.

Peretti has a hard time with both kinds of characters. In his more recent books his good characters have begun to take shape, however, which I see as a hopeful sign. But his evil characters are still entirely too weird, or at best one-dimensional. In this one, the Antichrist character, Brandon Nichols, was too much like the Antichrist character, Nicholas Carpathia, in the Left Behind books, which is a compliment to neither the character nor the author. (Neither author could avoid the "Nick" reference, it seems. But LaHaye/Jenkins were there first.)

Peretti's prejudices show through too much for me, mainly I suppose because they are not my prejudices. In the consortium of pastors in this book, the good guys are the Pentecostal and Baptist ones—the Episcopalian, Lutheran, Presbyterian, etc. are either bad or at best wishy-washy. The Methodist one comes out okay, but only after realizing she isn't really a Christian.... It's true he attacks some Pentecostal practices and beliefs, and one of the worst characters is a Pentecostal pastor, but once again I get the feeling he is pointed commentary. Mind you, I'm not saying there aren't Methodist, Episcopalian, Lutheran, and Presbyterian pastors who are just as bad as the ones he portrays, but you get the feeling Peretti is condemning whole denominations, not just particular characters.

The Visitation started out very well, with Peretti developing the main character well and with reasonable complexity. He begins by asking some critical questions that are usually ignored, such as Why doesn't Jesus seem to be in the direct healing business anymore? and How would the world respond if he were? and What does God's presence in the world, and in our lives, look like? and How do we deal with people who respond to our problems with, "You just need to trust God more"?

I was looking forward greatly to how Peretti would deal with these questions, but it seems he couldn't sustain the effort. Suddenly the protagonist's crisis of faith is resolved (for no apparent reason), prayer becomes a magic bullet, demons are revealed, and the whole story is wrapped up with a pat answer, stock formula solution.

Disappointing—though still entertaining.

Okay, so the wider dissemination of lesser-known comic strips is not the greatest use of the Internet, but it's fun. I've featured Baldo before, but now they have an official Baldo website to include, and today's strip is worth broadcasting.

We went to the Orlando Science Center last weekend. Because they had three new movies we hadn't seen, we didn't have much time for the exhibits, but that's okay since we know them all pretty well. However, they do have a new traveling exhibit called Invention at Play, at which we spent all the rest of our time, and which is one of the best new exhibits I've seen in a long time, at any science musuem.

What makes it so good? Content, content, content! That's what's missing in so many exhibits these days.

My absolute favorite science museum was always the old Franklin Institute in Philadelphia. When I was in college, I worked for two summers at their research labs, which were located across the street, and nearly every lunch hour I took advantage of the tunnel between the buildings and the fact that my ID badge let me into the museum for free. That was heaven for someone who never had enough time to explore when we actually paid money to visit! You can't see much in half-hour bites (lunch "hour" was never an hour) but over a summer of days the time adds up.

While I was there, the museum opened a large addition, full of new exhibits, and I was so excited! And then so disappointed. All that space, and so little content. The old part of the museum had been focused on education, with information presented in an interesting and multi-dimensional form: hands-on activities (puzzles illustrating mathematical concepts), interactive exhibits (buttons to push), physical involvement (a large locomotive to ride, a model of the heart to walk through—my perennial favorite as a child), and detailed descriptions and explanations to read. One could enjoy it on many levels, at many ages, and there always seemed to be more to learn.

The new section, however, seemed to care more about entertainment than education. This was primarily evident in the striking reduction in the number of words associated with each exhibit. It was as if they wanted people to walk by, take in the flashy display, push a button, and move on. In the old museum I could often explore one display for 15 minutes; not so the new.

In the years since my Summers of Fun I have visited science museums in several other cities, and alas have found them to be modelled on the new (now many years old, of course) Franklin Institute rather than the old. Oh, I've certainly enjoyed them! But the low content density discourages frequent revisits, and I often feel I've been more entertained than educated, which makes me feel I've been cheated.

The Invention at Play exhibit, while not quite up to my old Franklin Institute standards, has a significantly better content/fluff ratio than usual. In addition to all there is to see and do, there is a lot to read, which is why we were able to spend so much time enjoying the displays. Definitely an exhibit for all ages to enjoy!

(Did you know that kevlar, used to make bullet-resistant vests, is also used in many other products, including hockey sticks, heat-resistant gloves, and canoes? The exhibit includes a full-sized, kevlar-based canoe that weighs only 36 pounds.)

Oh, and about the movies. Once again, my complaint is lack of content:

• StarQuest Take a look at some of astronomy's most common questions. Where did the planets come from? What is a black hole? How do you find a constellation? How will the sun die? Plus much more. Sounds good, but the question most seriously considered by the movie was the whereabouts of an escaped hamster. The lame subplot was nothing but an annoying distraction. Maybe they answered all those good questions in the latter part of the movie, but by then I was sound asleep.


• Aliens of the Deep Did you ever see the TV show, 48 Hours? Where they take an hour to cover 10 minutes' worth of material? Aliens of the Deep has the same problem. Lots of shots of deep-diving vehicles maneuvering underwater, and interviews with people telling us much they love their jobs, but almost no explanation of what they actually learned from the explorations.


• Greece: Secrets of the Past This one was great! Lovely pictures, great history, lots of content. The only one of the three films worth watching.

Mere Discipleship: Radical Christianity in a Rebellious World, by Lee C. Camp (Brazos Press, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 2003)

Because I believe Mere Discipleship to be an important book for Christians who are seeking more from their faith than "fire insurance," I want to deal with some of its problems first. There was enough that I found really annoying that I want to get some of it out of the way, so anyone who feels as I do will be encouraged to read past that and receive the good therein.

A minor point, but still important to those who love good books: I don't like the style. The overuse of "unnecessary quotation marks" is like fingernails on a blackboard to me. (Irrelevant question: how long before people no longer know what that expression means?) So too does the repeated use of the phrase, "Constantinian cataract" or "Christendom cataract" to describe the impairment of vision he says has afflicted the Church since the conversion of the Roman Emperor Constantine gave Christianity both legality and status. It's a clever image, but grows thin, and doubly annoying in phrases like, "this is yet another question that flows from the Christendom cataract," flipping the meaning, briefly, from eye problems to waterfalls. And why does the book continually use the term "nation-state," instead of the more commonly-used "nation"? It seems deliberately inflammatory. These minor problems shouldn't deter a reader any more than a prophet's shabby clothes should justify ignoring his message; I want to encourage people to see past it, and acknowledging the problem can sometimes help.

More serious is Lee C. Camp's very obvious pacifist and anabaptist beliefs. I'm sure that to him these follow logically from his basic approach to the Christian life, but many (including me) could benefit from his ideas who have come (at least so far) to different conclusions. It would be a shame to reject the whole package as an all-or-nothing deal.

Finally, Camp seems to set up a straw man to knock down. Having grown up in the Deep South, he can be forgiven for railing against the blind patriotism he saw in that place, at that time. But his experience is so far different from my own as to make that part of the book outdated and nearly irrelevant.

Enough with the negative. I wish I could express the positive as easily. But that which is good—whether I agree with it or not—is deeper than I can express, at least not without a more careful re-reading of the book. (Much of my first reading was done on the long plane flight home from Japan and under the influence of jet lag.) Besides, I don't think it's fair of a reviewer to try to express in a few words what it takes the author a whole book to say. Instead I will end with a few quotes, and invite anyone who reads Mere Discipleship to raise particular points for discussion, for there are many.

I write not so much to instruct as to understand, to make more sense myself out of Christ's call to follow him. I write to share my deep suspicion that our Western culture continues to pervert the word of Christ. I write with a sense of burden, suspecting that even the religious rhetoric that appears to take Jesus so seriously has domesticated him, cleaned him up, made him respectable so as not to embarrass us good church-going folk with our agendas of upward social mobility and social "responsibility," and in so doing has limited the answers believed to be possible or sensible or respectable to that commonly asked question, "What would Jesus do?"

[With the death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus,] a decisive turn has occurred in human history—the kingdom of God is now in our midst—but its final and ultimate triumph lies yet in the future. The work of God, in forgiving sins, healing disease and affliction, overcoming alienation and estrangement, defeating injustice and oppression—this long-anticipated work of God has now broken into human history and will be completed at the [second coming] of the Lord.

The gospel invites us to participate in the kingdom of God, that long-awaited rule of God, in which the rebellion, with its corollaries of lust and violence and greed and self-seeking, is undone.

Throughout the biblical narrative God calls his people to embody an alternative vision of community life: the people of God live a community ethic that stands at odds with the unbelieving peoples that surround them. Through being a "peculiar people," the people of God can bear witness to the will off God, as well as bring about transformative change for the cities in which they dwell. Only by being what God has called his people to be can his people really bring about good for the cities in which they dwell.

The primary characters in the flow of history are the weak, apparently insignificant characters chosen by God to walk in obedience to God's covenant promises.

"Church" is not about showing the world how to be "religious," but showing the world how it is supposed to be a world that reflects the intentions of its creator. …The church embodies the new social order, the new-world-on-the-way; the church exists as an outpost of the coming kingdom.

A "cultural Christianity," in which many people ascribe to the "Christian faith," but few walk in discipleship, showing the world what God created the world to be—this is apostasy.

The gospel is not merely a "belief system," giving mental assent to "sound doctrine" so that one might "go to heaven." The gospel calls us to participate in the kingdom of heaven, to embody the will of God on earth, empowered by the Holy Spirit to do so.

How often have I preached that we should forgive those who do not merit forgiveness—the murderer, the warmonger, or the terrorist who has decimated or oppressed some third party unknown to me—and yet am offended and resentful when someone doesn't like me or my preaching?! Third-party "forgiveness" is cheap.

It will not do…simply not to kill our enemies. To adopt a stance of refusing to kill our enemies, of course, would be a radical conversion for the Christian church in the Western world. But even such a radical transformation would not be sufficient. It will most certainly not do to hate the war-makers and their military-industrial complex. It will not do to scoff at nationalism and patriotism. Instead, following Christ means we embrace both centurion and zealot alike, calling each to the life-giving way of the kingdom, in which we celebrate the grace and abundance of a God given freely and extravagantly to us all.

Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden side of Everything, by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner (William Morrow, New York, 2005)

Economist Steven D. Levitt enjoys standing a problem on its head to see what might shake out of its pockets; Freakonomics is an exhibit of his garnered treasures. Levitt takes on anything that piques his interest: from how to detect teachers who cheat on their students' exams to how legalized abortion affected crime rates, from what really broke up the Ku Klux Klan to the financial workings of inner city gangs, from why a swimming pool is more dangerous than a gun to parenting skills and naming trends.

Freakonomics is both fascinating and frustrating. Levitt asks very important questions, offers evidence that "conventional wisdom" is often anything but wise, and perhaps does his greatest service in encouraging people to rethink their unquestioned assumptions.

However, when he deals with subjects in which I have more than the usual knowledge and experience, such as parenting and education, I can see holes big enough to send an elephant stampede through. For example, he considers various factors that might or might not affect how well a child does in school (as measured by standardized test scores), and concludes that a mother's employment outside of the home during his preschool years makes no difference at all. But without taking into consideration what the "at home" mother did during those years -- did she spend a lot of time with her child? did she take him with her, talk with him, teach him? did she plop him in front of Sesame Street while she talked on the phone? was he kept in a playpen while she watched soap operas? was he watched by a nanny while she played tennis? -- the statistics he used are pretty much meaningless. Similarly, in concluding that regularly taking your child to museums has equally little affect on his school performance, he neglects to consider the difference between a child who interacts with his parents as they traverse the science museum and one who runs from one exhibit to the next, pressing buttons willy-nilly but never staying long enough in one place to learn whatever the pressed button might have had to convey. Or between parents who prepare a child for a visit to an art museum and those who simply drag him from one picture to the next until they can no longer put up with his bored misbehavior.

Despite occasional problems with the conclusions, Freakonomics is a good exercise in applying the tools of economics to thinking differently about what "everybody knows." You can find out more at the Freakonomics website.

Any extravagance around the time of a birthday counts as part of the celebration, and thus comes without guilt. Thus when Porter wanted to attend the Mad Cow Theatre Company's It Was a Very Good Year, part of the Orlando Cabaret Festival, and even suggested we get the special dinner package, who was I to complain?

Enter into a Time Machine as you walk thru the doors of Club Moo, Mad Cow Theatre's intimate nightclub room. Grab a chair at your table as you sip a cool drink and enjoy...a celebration of one year in the life of America: the news, the lifestyles, the gossip, and most important—the music.

The package including the show, dinner, parking, and a glass of wine to take into the theater. Porter had chosen the year 1925 (other options were 1935, 1945, and 1955), and as we relaxed at our excellently-situated table I thought (as any genealogist would) about relatives who were alive in 1925. I tried to imagine myself as them, until I realized how extremely unlikely it would have been for any of my grandparents to be sitting in a cabaret drinking a glass of wine. So I just enjoyed the show. I'm sure they would have known the music, anyway. The cast comprised four singers and a pianist, and the show was simply some of the songs popular in 1925, held together by a minimal story line. The music was well done, and we were relieved that the era was presented straight, with no looking-back-from-the-future, mocking humor. My knowledge of the popular songs of any era is abysmal, but found I knew about half of these.

• I'm Sitting on Top of the World (Joe Young & Ray Henderson / Sam M. Lewis)
• Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue (Joe Young & Ray Henderson / Sam M. Lewis)
• Looking for a Boy (George & Ira Gershwin)
• Oh! Lady Be Good (George & Ira Gershwin)
• It Had to Be You (Gus Kahn & Isham Jones)
• Tea for Two (Irving Caesar / Vincent Youmans)
• Everybody Loves My Baby / Yes Sir! That's My Baby! (Jack Palmer/Spence Williams, Gus Kahn/Walter Donaldson)
• Always (Irving Berlin)
• Charleston (Cecil Mack & James P. Johnson
• Sweet Georgia Brown (Ben Bernie / Maceo Pinkard & Ken Casey)
• Clap Hands! Here Comes Charley! (Joseph Meyer / Billy Rose & Ballard MacDonald)
• Sweet and Low-down (George & Ira Gershwin)
• Shake That Thing (Papa Charlie Jackson)
• Keep Your Skirts Down, Mary ann (Robert King & Ray Henderson / Andrew B. Sterling)
• I Never Knew (Gus Kahn / Ted Fio Rito)
• Who (Hammerstein & Kern)
• Manhattan (Rodgers & Hart)
• Save Your Sorrow for Tomorrow (Al Sherman / B. G. De Sylva)

We had some time between the end of the show and our 5:30 dinner reservations, which we spent in the library. Porter found a book to check out, and I spent my time in the genealogy section, where I found Gary Boyd Roberts' The Royal Descents of 600 Immigrants. (Gary was the New England Historic Genealogical Society librarian who helped me get started on my research.) I didn't get very far in the book before we had to leave, but I did find that Robert Abell (a 9^th great grandfather on my mother's side) is the 11^th great grandson of Edward I, King of England (1239-1307). This is "Longshanks," who had William Wallace executed, and though Braveheart depicts him inaccurately and unfairly, he was nasty enough. You can't go very far in genealogy without running into both heros and villains, often in the same person, which is why I take as my genealogical motto Aslan's words in C. S. Lewis' Prince Caspian: You come of the Lord Adam and the Lady Eve, and that is both honor enough to erect the head of the poorest beggar, and shame enough to bow the shoulders of the greatest emperor in earth.

Dinner at the nearby Napasorn Thai restaurant was wonderful. Because it was part of the package, we had to choose form a smaller menu, but that was no hardship. The spring rolls and gyoza we had for appetizers were perfect, and our dinners of pad Thai and panang curry were nearly as good. Next time we'll save money by making our own package—but this was definitely worth the cost because otherwise we'd never have discovered Napasorn. It also really felt like a date, because Porter made all the arrangements, and that was heavenly.

Chronological stories from our trip to Japan will have to wait until I have more time, but I'll try to fit in an occasionally tidbit here and there.

Many people have heard of the really fancy Japanese toilets, the ones with heated seats and more buttons than a DVD player, including Cover-Up Sound, Wash, and Blow Dry. I haven't had the opportunity to try anything but the warm seat feature (especially nice in unheated bathrooms), but we'd certainly have one if they were readily available at a reasonable price in the United States. I suppose we could special order one for an outrageous sum, but they aren't that wonderful.

It would take not money, but a societal attitude change, to make another of the great Japanese toilets available in the United States: the "squatty potty." Nearly flush with the ground (pardon the pun), these toilets are particularly great for public places, as they are much easier to keep clean than the kind we are accustomed to. They are also surprisingly easy to use. Before I tried one, I couldn't picture using it successfully, but it's really no problem at all.

My favorite Japanese toilet is the kind in Janet's apartment. It's a "normal" toilet with one fabulous feature: the tank lid is a faucet/sink arrangement. Flushing the toilet causes water to pour out of the faucet for handwashing purposes; the water drains into the toilet tank and is used for the next flush. What an economical, ecological idea!

There were any number of reasons why we shouldn't have gone to the Orlando Philharmonic Orchestra's A Celtic Fantasy concert last night. We have a huge deadline looming, and delightful out of town company as well. However, a commitment to a friend kept us from taking the logical course and giving away our tickets, and are we glad we didn't miss the performance!

When the OPO brought renowned flutist James Galway to town we enjoyed that concert tremendously. Last night’s Celtic Fantasy, featuring OPO principal flutist Aaron Goldman was every bit as delightful, if not more so. As Galway had done, Aaron played both flute and pennywhistle with grace and beauty and skill. Memo to the Orlando Philharmonic: James Galway is no doubt a very busy and expensive performer. Forget the big names: give us more Aaron Goldman!

(In the interest of full disclosure: I've been introduced to Mr. Goldman but can't say I know him. He does automatically gain a place in my heart by being a graduate of the Eastman School of Music. Jesus said, "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also," and a great deal of our treasure, not to mention one of our Greatest Treasures, went to Eastman. The other Greatest Treasure went to Carnegie Mellon University, which was also honored in this concert, though the orchestra may not have been aware of that fact.)

Featured on the program:

• Four Scottish Dances (Malcolm Arnold)
• Irish Rhapsody (Victor Herbert)
• Gaelic Love Songs for Flute (Edward McGuire)
• Orkney Wedding, with Sunrise (Sir Peter Maxwell Davies) (With a bagpiper at the end!)
• Scotland the Brave (More bagpipers; for a while, I thought I was back at Carnegie Mellon's graduation.)
• O'Sullivan's March from "Rob Roy"
• Danny Boy (A good arrangement but nothing can beat Greg Barker's.)
• Itsbynne Reel (Say that out loud.)
• Island Fiddle Suite (Scott MacMillan) (With Irish dancers! My heart leaped when they came out, and I noted the curly wigs and the crowns. :) I know they were Irish dancers because they're from a school of Irish dance, but I wish Janet had been there to explain some things. I recognized some of the dances, though I couldn't name them, and noted that the dancers' hands were straight at their sides, as I expected. But at other times their hand were on their hips, or above their heads, or linked with those of other dancers, which I didn't expect.)
• Invernia
• Riverdance (with whistle)
• and an encore, with whistle

There was so much in the concert that made us think of our wonderful girls, and wish they could have shared it with us. The whole performance was bathed in what Porter calls "favorable emotional circumstances," and so perhaps our reaction was a bit prejudiced. But it really was an excellent concert.

Forget the green beer. After having discovered genuine Irish ancestors in my heritage, I'm even more convinced that any good celebration of St. Patrick's Day must include singing his very own hymn, usually called St. Patrick's Breastplate or I Bind unto Myself Today. The words are attributed to St. Patrick himself, with the modern, metrical version provided by Cecil Frances Alexander.

The challenge in St. Patrick's for first time singers is finding the flow; the first verse is shorter than the rest, one or two verses (depending on the version) are sung to a different tune, and usually you must turn the page to complete this hymn. (In my favorite hymnal it covers four pages!)

The tunes are Irish and easily singable, however, and the words packed with theology, beauty, and joy. Do yourself and St. Patrick a favor, and honor him on this day by becoming acquainted with this grand and glorious expression of ancient Celtic Christian faith.

The Oremus Hymnal includes the commonly sung verses and page numbers for St. Patrick's Breastplate in a large collection of hymnals.

The Cyber Hymnal includes two additional verses that are rarely sung but give even more of a feel for the ancient Celtic culture out of which which it arose.

This Irish Culture and Customs site has a non-metrical translation of the poem.

We should visit restaurants more often when they are closed! My post about the Sake Moon tells how we discovered that fine restaurant because the one at which we had intended to eat was not open. Ironically, our next great discovery came because the Sake Moon was closed when Porter was in the mood for pho.

Switching hemispheres, we decided instead to use a $10 coupon to check out the new the Habana Grill Cuban restaurant. How excited we were to discover that it was our old Don Pepe’s renewed! We had enjoyed Don Pepe’s for years, having been introduced to it when Heather was taking Spanish in high school. However, the plaza in which it was located underwent major demolition and reconstruction, and Don Pepe’s disappeared, we feared forever.

The new version is bigger, and I dare to say better. I had the Shrimp Habana (grilled shrimp and pineapple, with a mango mustard sauce), and Porter had the special of the day, which was a very substantial, spicy fish soup. Although I rarely drink soda, I ordered my own Ironbeer after tasting Porter’s. Even better than the food, though, was the atmosphere. I haven’t had so much fun in a restaurant in a long time. Music was provided by a man at an electric (Korg) keyboard, and if it was too loud at least it was not so loud as to inhibit conversation. When he played familiar songs some of the staff and many of the customers joined in—even I sang parts of Guantanamera. Whether the other customers were of Cuban descent or not I couldn’t tell, but most of the conversations were in Spanish. This was as far removed as possible from those horrible experiences at other restaurants where some poor birthday “honoree” is subjected to loud clapping and off-key singing by waiters who enjoy the experience no more than the customers. The feeling was closer to the atmosphere I’ve felt in an Irish pub, though much more amateur and informal than a Seisiún.

posted by sursumcorda on Tuesday, March 14, 2006 at 10:00 PM
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Category Reviews

For many years before he died, my father would come visit us for a month each year around February (usually a good month to exchange Pennsylvania for Florida temporarily). Once a week he would take us to lunch at the Sakura, the best Japanese restaurant in our experience, including the time when all the restaurants of Boston were at hand.

Alas, when we returned from Massachusetts we were able to enjoy only one more meal at the Sakura before it closed. We've spent the last three years searching for a substitute, to no avail. The Asian restaurant that took its place isn't bad, however, and that's where we headed last Monday night. We remembered too late that it is closed on Mondays, but that disappointment quickly turned into a blessing.

We decided instead to try out a new (to us) restaurant called the Sake Moon. Or maybe Saikyo; it appears to go by both names. Whatever it's called, I call it fantastic. At last we are consoled for the loss of the Sakura. We ordered the Sushi Boat for One—it was more than enough for the two of us—and were treated to the best sushi I've had in at least three years.

What's more, Sake Moon serves not only Japanese but also Vietnamese food. The owners are Vietnamese, as I discovered when I attempted some of my newly-acquired Japanese phrases. (They graciously then taught me to say "thank you" in Vietnamese.) We returned today for lunch, and were nearly as pleased with the summer rolls and pho as we had been with the sushi. We did not dine in Vietnam alone, but mixed our Asian cuisine today; the vegetable tempura was served with delightful accompaniments of California roll, goyza, Japanese egg roll, soup, salad, and rice, all delicious. And I learned to say "hello" in Vietnamese.

We'll be back; Sake Moon is close to home and reasonably priced. Besides, I have a lot more Vietnamese to learn....

Here's a picture from a subsequent visit of the Sushi Boat for Three (which easily served five).

Photo credit Roger Winters. Click on the picture to see a larger image.

Affluenza, by John de Graaf, David Wann, and Thomas H. Naylor (Berrett-Koehler, San Francisco, 2001)

affluenza, n. a painful, contagious, socially transmitted condition of overload, debt, anxiety, and waste resulting from the dogged pursuit of more

Many years ago I was walking through downtown Wayne, Pennsylvania with my father, and we stepped into the Encore bookstore. While browsing, I came upon The Plug-In Drug, Marie Winn’s indictment of television. It was a life-changing book.

When I learned about Affluenza, I was hoping for a similar experience. Although I was disappointed, it’s still worthwhile reading. There are some squirrelly parts, to be sure, but The Plug-In Drug had those, too, and they don’t need to detract from the basic message, which is basically one of Stop! Slow Down! Re-think! and Re-prioritize! because our consumption-driven lives are spiraling out of control. The book does a reasonable job of presenting the problems and some of the causes, though it is inexplicably silent on the social and personal consequences of the rise of the dual-income family and our dependence on daycare. Less surprising, but just as glaring, is the lack of any acknowledgement that the institution of school, itself, and not just commercialism allowed into the schools, breeds and trains unthinking consumers.

Where Affluenza really falls down, however, is in the area of practical application. I was hoping for inspirational stories of families who have succeeded even partially in reining in consumerism and returning sanity to their lives. There is a small amount of this, but the book’s focus tends to be on what the authors think individuals should pressure the government to do, rather than on personal changes.

It’s hard not to accuse the authors of naiveté in places. While I understand the motives behind their hope that one day organic food from sustainable agriculture will cost no more than factory farm products, in practice I know that changes must come carefully and slowly if people are not going to be badly hurt. Right now we have a system, as unhealthy and as unsustainable in the long run as it is, that produces a tremendous amount of inexpensive food. If our food is healthier, but more people starve, have we gained anything?

Although it was good to score well on the "Affluenza Self-Diagnosis Test," it was somewhat unsatisfactory. Somehow it reminded me of those articles that tell me I can gain much more time in my day by not watching television, or save tons of money by giving up cigarettes. What if I've already done that?

I’ve been more negative than I intended to be; it’s easy to use a review as a platform for bringing up points I’d like to discuss with a book’s author! Although Affluenza was disappointing, it covers a vitally important subject, and is perhaps a good beginning.

I haven't yet managed to post my review of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but I'll let End of the Spear sneak in ahead while it's fresh in my mind, because I'm afraid if you don't see it soon, you'll have to wait for the DVD. Not that we had a hard time finding a showing yesterday, but it had already come and gone at our first choice theater.

Half a lifetime ago I read Elizabeth Elliot's Through Gates of Splendor. Subsequently I lost track of the story of the five American missionaries who were killed in Ecuador, but I could never totally forget it, especially since we have several friends in Ecuador—including some who were there at the time—and even sang in choir for a while with one of the children of the slain men.

Despite these connections, the story seemed "long ago and far away," so it was almost shocking to have an opportunity to learn "the rest of the story." Particularly because at last I could hear it from the other side. As I sat in the theater, the movie critic in the back of my mind starting saying things like, "That's all speculation; they don't know what really happened on the beach [where the killings occurred]." Suddenly I realized I was wrong: At the end of Through Gates of Splendor they didn't know—but they do now.

End of the Spear does a particularly good job of depicting the two clashing cultures respectfully and realistically. So often in tales of that sort one is ennobled and the other villanized; here both the Waodani and the encroaching outside world are shown to be nothing more nor less than human: virtuous and foolish, comic and tragic, quick-witted and bull-headed.

One concern I always have about movie versions of real events is how much liberty has been taken with the truth. I understand that some details were altered to fit the movie format, but I was reassured to note that Steve Saint, son of one of the missionaries, said, "seeing it, this is more of 'a true story' than 'based on a true story.'"

A moving story from the film's website (see "Behind the Spear") tells how the Waodani's first reaction to the idea of the film was negative. On being told about the Columbine tragedy, however, they agreed to make the movie in hopes the story of their escape from senseless and brutal violence will help others who seem just as trapped as they were.

End of the Spear is well worth the time, effort, and money to see. I don't say that about many movies. Be sure to stay through the credits to learn a Waodani view of why Americans are so fat.

The Giver, by Lois Lowry (Dell Laurel-Leaf, New York, 1993)

I doubt I would have found The Giver had it not been required reading for two of my nephews. One read it as a class assignment in seventh grade; for the other it was read aloud in fifth grade. Intrigued, I borrowed the book from our library.

The Giver makes me wish I belonged to a literary discussion group. Without a doubt there is plenty here to discuss, and I can see why teachers might be eager to share this Newbery Award winner with their classes. I would love to talk about it in a group, to toss about various interpretations and implications. And yet, despite the "young adult" designation, despite the fact that the main character has not yet reached his teens, I question the value of such a book in the elementary or middle school curriculum.

My friends and family know all too well how strongly I believe children are much more capable than we give them credit for, and are all too familiar with my rants about how society—especially school—holds them back, does not respect them, and deprives them of important opportunities for growth and learning. Certainly a 10-year-old could contribute intelligently to a discussion of The Giver, if he had the background and experience. However, modern American education—which definition I extend backwards at least as far as my own experience—will rarely if ever allow such a child to develop. To speak intelligently on the serious issues that emerge from this book requires more knowledge of history, philosophy, religion, literature, and ethics than many adults possess. Without such a background, how can a discussion rise above the level of the readers' feelings?

I'm reminded of the first Gulf War, during which our local elementary schools made a point of engaging their students in discussions about the war, querying them on such issues as why we were fighting and whether or not the war was justified. What, other than confusion and a false sense of self-importance, can come from asking such questions of people who know nothing of history, let alone economics, politics, and religion?

Before we ask our children to wrestle with life's difficulties, ambiguities, and moral dilemmas, let them have a strong course of history and logic, at least. To do otherwise is to send them unarmed into mortal combat.

The Well-Trained Mind: A Guide to Classical Education at Home, by Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise (W.W. Norton and Company, New York, 2004)

I heard so many homeschoolers raving about The Well-Trained Mind that I had to read it for myself. Then the question became not why so many people love it, but why do I? One reviewer called this approach “ultra school-at-home”—which should have been enough to send me fleeing as from a thousand devils.

If I didn't loathe labels that place homeschoolers into boxes, the one I would be most likely to accept concerning our homeschooling philosophy would be "unschooling." So why would I enthusiastically recommend this book, in which the only reference to unschooling is negative and largely inaccurate? Why would I even read a homeschooling book that opens with the stated belief that homeschooling is second best to an ideal school system, and includes the line, "I set up the desks and the American flag and started to teach my children at home"?

Let me begin with my sympathetic feelings for the White Queen in Alice, who could believe “as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” Just as I find no inherent contradiction between Attachment Parenting and my belief that babies need to spend a lot of time prone on the floor, so I see no reason why someone who passionately believes an unspoiled child hungers and thirsts for knowledge should not find much of benefit in the Classical Education model. One of the secrets to success with unschooling is knowing how to discover, discern, and extract from many sources that which is good.

What is commonly called the Classical approach has fascinated and appealed to me ever since I read Dorothy Sayers’ The Lost Tools of Learning. Despite the best (unintentional) efforts of one of the most popular present-day advocates of this approach, and of a private school of my acquaintance that attempts to follow it, to make this form of education appear repulsive, if I were homeschooling now I would find a way to synthesize these ideas, to offer my children the benefits of both unschooling and the Trivium. Impossible? Go ask Alice.¹

Two aspects of The Well-Trained Mind make it particularly valuable:

• The authors have compiled an absolutely fabulous collection of ideas, recommendations, and resources. The reading lists alone are probably worth the price of the book.


• The book articulates one of the foundation stones of my unschooling educational philosophy: Children can achieve far, far more than is commonly expected of them, if they are given the opportunity and the encouragement our educational system commonly denies them.

I do want to point out an area in which I find The Well-Trained Mind to be deficient: mathematics. We used the Saxon math books from Math 54 to Advanced Mathematics (neither the earlier books nor calculus was available back then), and our experience was quite different from what the authors describe.

They state that parents need to teach the mathematical concepts in the Saxon books, that it is not a self-teaching program. We found that to be dramatically untrue. I can't speak for anything before Math 54, but beginning with that book the Saxon texts contain everything needed. Our children simply sat down with the books, read the material, worked the problems, and went on. This was a delightful contrast to other math texts that had left us bewildered because they assumed a teacher had already explained the concepts.

A grievous omission from The Well-Trained Mind's carefully laid out mathematics curriculum is any recognition that some students will be able to cover the material more quickly, although they do provide a revised sequence for students who might need to take a slower approach. Our children would have hated these math books if we had followed the official Saxon plan, which requires students to work every single problem. This would have bored them so seriously they probably would have developed an aversion to math, instead of the love they now have. We found that doing one third to one half of the available problems (carefully chosen to avoid missing concepts) was the right pace, and they flew through the books with joy. Saxon proponents who fail to acknowledge such an option do a disservice to both the publisher and the students.

Children who follow the path described in The Well-Trained Mind will receive a liberal arts education exceeding that of most college graduates, yet their mathematical knowledge will be little better than that of a typical college-bound high school senior. Not only is mathematics critical to many fields, but the mental skills developed in more advanced (post-calculus) courses should be an important part of the rhetoric stage.

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¹ For those who are too young or too old to have experienced Jefferson Airplane, this is not a reference to my mother-in-law.