Enjoy Independence Day!

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One Hundred Things About Me

1. I like blackberry cobbler.
2. I’m proud to be from Oklahoma.
3. When I was a kid, my favorite color was purple. Now yellow is.
4. I’ve never been to Europe.
5. I collect pottery.
6. New Orleans is still my favorite city.
7. My all-time favorite album is Jimmie Dale Gilmore’s Braver Newer World.
8. Jody and George were my imaginary childhood friends.
9. I saw Tina Turner at my first “grown-up” concert.
10. I know more about the Eleventh Amendment than you think I do.
11. My grandfathers outlived my grandmothers.
12. My father wrecked my first car, a Dodge Aspen, before I ever even got to drive it. (When he told me, I thought he was joking.)
13. I vividly recall a childhood nightmare about a giant spider in the living room. I rarely remember dreams now.
14. A Merchant-Ivory film, A Room with a View, changed my life.
15. At 21, I was diagnosed with an ulcer.
16. As a kid, I approved of the designated hitter rule; now that I’ve lived in a National League city for awhile, I’m not so sure.
17. I stretch every day. If I don’t, my body punishes me.
18. I think Babbitt is the most underrated American novel of the 20th century. (Kids should be reading it in high school.)
19. I wish that I’d met Allen Ginsberg.
20. I wish I understood e.e. cummings’s poetry better.
21. I’d much rather be hot than cold. (In other words, I’ll take Florida over Michigan any day.)
22. I’m in love with being in love.
23. My lucky number is 23.
24. I’ve never been to an opera.
25. If I were an artist, my work would be influenced by Donald Judd and Morris Louis.
26. Nothing turns me off like too much ego.
27. I financed most of my undergraduate education by winning a scholarship exam about Oklahoma history. (Thanks, Oklahoma Heritage Association.)
28. I like magnolia trees.
29. If I weren’t in my current profession, I think I’d like to be either an actor or a social studies teacher. (Is that an odd either/or combo or what?)
30. Tulips are my favorite flowers.
31. For my money, The Mary Tyler Moore Show is the best television show ever.
32. I like game shows more than just about any other television genre. (Match Game is my all-time fave.)
33. Asparagus is my favorite vegetable.
34. I’m passionate about lemons.
35. I’d be a captain more like Picard than Kirk. I like Janeway, too.
36. I’m awful about returning email and telephone calls in a timely fashion. Sorry!
37. My dream vacation is to visit Paris for the French Open and then London for Wimbledon. (Maybe I could spend the two weeks between the tournaments in Madrid or Belgium?)
38. At the right university, I might’ve majored in Canadian Studies.
39. The worst thing that ever happened to me is having my heart broken.
40. I’d make a great judge, but I’ll probably never have the chance to prove it.
41. I’m obsessed with the Olympic Games.
42. I was the editor of my high school’s newspaper. While in high school, I was a stringer for the local daily, too.
43. After high school, I decided I wasn’t outgoing enough to be a good journalist.
44. I get bored easily. (That probably means I’m boring.)
45. If it’s not A Room with a View (see #14), Short Cuts is my favorite movie of all time.
46. Even after years of living here, I don’t feel like I “belong” in Pennsylvania. And I doubt I ever will.
47. When I was a kid, I was sure I’d find a way to live in Washington, D.C.
48. I like Japanese restaurants.
49. Nothing makes me feel cleaner than having a new, short haircut and freshly trimmed fingernails.
50. I’m afraid of dentists and car salesmen.
51. I’ve only been in love three times, and I’m not entirely sure one of those should “count.”
52. I sort of wish I’d been the punter on my high school’s football team.
53. I’ve never been sexually attracted—even in the least bit—to a woman. (Women are great, of course. I just don’t want to sleep with them.)
54. I still have a picture of my ex on my desk at work. (After I wrote this, I put the photo in a drawer.)
55. I don’t own a car.
56. One of the first men I had a crush on was tennis superstar Björn Borg. (Later tennis crushes: Boris Becker, Pete Sampras, Albert Costa.)
57. If you’re a man with a build like a linebacker, I’ve probably got a crush on you right now.
58. I’m a Unitarian Universalist (with Humanist, Buddhist, and non-theistic tendencies).
59. I don’t have a favorite TV show right now. (Do you?)
60. My 80GB iPod is currently over three-quarters full.
61. Loneliness is something I’ve struggled with, off and on, since childhood.
62. When I was a kid, I got Sparky Lyle’s autograph. (And Crazy Ray’s, too.)
63. Two of my best vacations were road trips to Yellowstone National Park.
64. I wonder if you really got the Dorothy Parker reference.
65. When I finally got the Tennis Channel, I did a little dance right there in my apartment.
66. I think I’d like presiding at weddings.
67. If it were track or field instead of track and field, I’d choose field every time. (Hammer throwers are sexy!)
68. I really like diner food. Who wants to split the corned beef hash?
69. I’m attracted to hairy men.
70. In my opinion, Talking Heads was the best rock band ever.
71. The last three plays to win the Pulitzer Price for drama were Doubt, Rabbit Hole, and August: Osage County, and I saw each one of them on Broadway.
72. As a kid, I read everything I could find about the Faroe Islands.
73. I’m shy around strangers. Sometimes, I even wonder whether I have social anxiety disorder.
74. On the SAT, I scored much better on the math than the verbal section. (So, naturally, I write and edit for a living now.)
75. I wrote a master’s thesis on sports sociology. (And I later went back to school for more Sports Studies. Why, oh, why don’t I work for the Phillies?)
76. I’d give just about anything for a good massage.
77. I procrastinate.
78. I got the worst sunburn of my life when I was parasailing in Acapulco Harbor.
79. I’m not at all interested in having children.
80. I’m an enormous fan of my mom’s pies, especially her coconut cream and lemon meringue pies.
81. I’m concerned you’ll think this list is pretty darn self-indulgent.
82. Are you surprised I’ve made it to No. 82 without mentioning beer? I am.
83. Belgian and Belgian-style beers, particularly Lambic beers, are my favorites.
84. I’ve never been to New England.
85. I subscribe to more magazines than a person with a full-time job could possibly read.
86. My favorite Iron Chef is Michael Symon.
87. Ice cream usually upsets my stomach. (Sexy, huh?)
88. I enjoy rodeo, particularly steer wrestling.
89. I see Independence Hall nearly every day.
90. I’m interested in vexillology.
91. As a child, I was very, very good at checkers.
92. After 10-plus years of commuting, I still smile when a train—wow, a passenger train!—pulls up to my station each morning.
93. The worst neighbors I ever had (a) exposed me to bedbugs, (b) refused to cooperate with the exterminator, and (c) never said they were sorry. Hmph.
94. According to the Myers-Briggs instrument, I’m an INTP.
95. I’m not wild about peaches.
96. Hot, not merely warm, water is essential for my morning shower.
97. I haven’t been camping since I was a child.
98. Jason Bateman could play me in the movie.
99. I once was offered a job in Palau.  I said no.
100. It has literally taken me months and months to think of these 100 things.

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Presence in the Wild

I’m a Unitarian Universalist, but I’m more interested in religion as a subject matter than I’m actually religious—or, at least, what most people would describe as religious.  I’m certainly not “spiritual.”  I’m a non-theist, influenced strongly by Humanism and secular Buddhism.  I look for the transcendent (I do!), but I look for it in people and relationships.

But, as I said, I’m fascinated by religion—from what others believe to how cultures shape, and are shaped by, religions.  Unsurprisingly, I suppose, one of my favorite radio programs is public radio’s Peabody Award-winning Speaking of Faith.  Each week, SOF host Krista Tippett interviews a compelling figure about some interesting topic in religion.  In my opinion, it’s usually Tippett who makes the show.  She knows her subject matter, and the hour-long radio format gives her the time to explore in depth what her well-chosen guests have to say.  Tippett really listens to what her guests say.

This week, I was startled and pleased to see hear that my own little faith, UUism, was getting some of Tippett’s attention.  The guest was the Rev. Kate Braestrup, a chaplain for the Maine Game Warden Service.  Braestrup’s memoir, Here If You Need Me, was one of my favorite books of 2007.  It tells some of the stories of love, life, and death that Braestrup has experienced on (and off) the job.  (If you’ve made it this far into this post, you really should read Here If You Need Me.  The audio version, read by Braestrup herself, is exquisite, too.)  This episode of SOF, “Presence in the Wild,” is one of the best I’ve ever heard, and that’s absolutely saying something.  If you’re at all interested in UUism, chaplaincy, practical theology, or, hey, even game wardens, give it a try.

I’m smitten with Krista Tippett, but Kate Braestrup is my intellectual crush of this week.

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Weekend Reading

Well, I’m writing it at the end of this weekend, but here’s what captured my attention this week:

• Fittingly, since we’re in the middle of the Wimbledon fortnight, a NYT article looked at all those strange on-the-court habits of the top tennis players.  Novak Djokovic bounces the ball up to 25 times before the ball toss, and Maria Sharapova tucks hair behind each of her ears.  But my favorite?  The way Rafael Nadal obsessively towels off between each point.  And, then, of course, there’s the way he’s always digging his clam diggers out of his, er, butt crack.
• When I was a kid, I resisted—fiercely—the afternoon nap.  I didn’t understand why grown-ups wanted to waste any part of the day.  Now, I’m downright grateful for this advice from the Boston Globe on the art of napping.  (Link via SteveP)
• Before Bloomsday gets too far away from us, this accurate, but oh-so-brief summary of the plot of Ulysses sure made me smile.  (Link via Prettier than Napoleon, who wonders why Joyce captivates some of us so)
• Speaking of little obsessions, this NYT article on casino chip collecting was sort of fun.  But I don’t really need one more excuse to love Las Vegas.  That place has gotten under my skin.
• Dustin Fenstermacher is a talented photographer.  Be sure to check out his gallery of images from the cat show.  Highly recommended!  (And I’m allergic to cats.)

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Los Angeles Angels 6, Philadelphia Phillies 2

My buddy and I hit the ballpark last night for some more interleague action (that still sounds dirty to me), this time involving the California Anaheim Los Angeles (insert eye roll here) Angels of, ahem, Anaheim.  The Phillies had almost no offense.  Manager Charlie Manuel finally gave the apparently exhausted Chase Utley a night off, and the rest of the Phillies line-up seemed to have nothing to offer.  The Phils lost, 6-2.

In the seventh inning, when there were already two outs, the Phils did manage to score two runs to tie the game.  Jayson Werth hit a solo homer.  A few minutes later, Pedro Feliz doubled, sending Chris Coste—who had walked—home.  Eric Bruntlett, who was subbing for Utley, ended the rally with a baserunning mistake, but it wouldn’t have mattered.  The Angels roughed up Phillies starter Brett Myers, as well as reliever Chad Durbin, in the eighth.  The fans, disgusted at the fourth straight loss, streamed out.  Not me, though!  I hung tough, until the final out.

Myers, by the way, pitched fairly well for most of the game.  He gave up two solo homers to Vladimir Guerrero early in the game, and I guess I wasn’t absolutely shocked that Manuel sent him out to pitch the eighth.  In retrospect, though, that was a mistake.  Myers got two outs and then gave up a two-run homer to Erick Aybar (who?).  Myers is a real puzzle this season.  He’ll be pitching really, really well, and then, suddenly, he gives up a home run.  Then he’s back to pitching well..and then, suddenly, well, you know.  He’s given up a league-leading 23 homers already this season.  Ouch.  And that’s our opening day starter, you know?  Ouch, again.

But I have to put the blame here pretty squarely on Manuel.  With the game tied in the eighth, Myers—whose pitch count was nearing three digits—should’ve come out.

But on to more important things.  I got to the game extra early so I could stand in the long, long, long line at Tony Luke’s for a roast pork sandwich.  Damn, it was delicious—all moist and meaty.  It might’ve been the best thing I’ve eaten all year.  It’s certainly the best thing I’ve eaten at the ballpark this year, and that’s high praise because I love those crab fries from Chickie’s and Pete’s.

I don’t have time to do it justice right now, but remind me to go on a real tear sometime about baseball teams that change their names to something silly.  Yup, I’m thinking about the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim.  But I’m also thinking of you, too, Tampa Bay Devil Rays.  Bay Rays?  That is so dumb.

I think I need another roast pork sandwich right about now.

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Weekend Reading

This week’s collection of what interested me:

• It’s not clear who the author is, but this long essay dissecting the last episode of The Sopranos is pretty darn impressive.  Are you persuaded?  (Link via Kottke)
• This NYT article explains where you can find some Gaelic football and hurling in the NYC area.  I’m keeping that in mind.  By the way, if anybody knows of any hurling or Gaelic football action in the Philly area, let me know.
• Also in NYT’s “sports” coverage: hunting feral hogs.  Really. (Note to Yankees: Not many Southerners actually spend their time doing something like this.  I swear.)
• At FILE Magazine, you can—and should—see a gallery of photographs by Massimo Cristaldi.  “Refinery Flock” consists of some amazing images of a flock of birds converging on a refinery.  If you like “Refinery Flock,” and you will, you’ll want to check out Cristaldi’s online portfolio, too.
• R. Pollack, a (soon-to-be-ex) teacher in Jackson, Mississippi, tells how the student body collectively reacted to the administration’s undue concern about what a group of boys wore one day.  “[I]t’s symbolic middle fingers all around,” Pollack writes.  Power to the people, you know?

Posted in General Interest, Photography, Sports, TV | 2 Comments »

Our Town

On Monday night, I visited the ballpark for a little interleague action (is it just me, or does that sound kinky?) between the Phillies and the Red Sox.  It was a weird night.  There were storms in the area, and rain—or worse—seemed like a certainty.  When I sat down in Section 108, about three seats from the foul line in right field, the wind was whipping around me and stadium detritus was flying everywhere.  But as game time approached, the wind settled down some, and the dark clouds that remained never dropped any rain.

It was a fun night.  The Phillies went ahead early, and they stayed there.  The crowd was into it, and there was, of course, some extra the-world-champions-are-here excitement in the air.  Ryan Howard was in top form, hitting two homers and a triple(!), and Cole Hamels pitched well for seven innings.  The Phils won, 8-2.  (Unfortunately, the Sox took last night’s and this afternoon’s games.  Ugh.)

As I said, I had a close-up view of the foul line.  My seat also put me in a prime position to boo, lustily, Red Sox rightfielder J.D. Drew, who famously dissed Philadelphia when the Phillies drafted him in 1997.  The crowd was united in its disdain for Drew, and I felt, well, especially Philadelphian as I booed him, too.

* * *

Last night, I did something completely different: I attended a performance of Thornton Wilder’s Our Town at the Arden Theatre.  It was well-acted and well-staged.  I was particularly taken with Rebecca Blumhagen and Peterson Townsend as Emily Webb and George Gibbs.  And Eric Hissom was delightful as the Stage Manager.

Probably the best part of the evening was Act II, which, of course, climaxes with the wedding of Emily and George.  The Arden staged Act II in Philadelphia’s historic Christ Church—right next door.  I love Christ Church’s old, rigid, high-backed pews, and I loved having some non-religious and non-touristy excuse to be in one of those pews for awhile.

I love Our Town and its reminder to pay attention and to live life fully.  But Act III, “Death,” sure left me in a mood—after what had been a long day of landlord, work, and commuting problems.  I suppose, though, that a day like that is a good day to be reminded about what’s important—and what’s not.

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Happy Bloomsday!

A year ago today, I was commemorating Bloomsday—which, of course, celebrates James Joyce and Ulysses, set on June 16, 1904—by participating in one of the world’s most elaborate celebrations, at Philly’s Rosenbach Museum. As I chronicled here (at the old website), I joined 70 or so other Philadelphians, notable and not-so-notable (that’d be me), in reading interesting passages from what is often regarded as the greatest novel of all time.

I spent several months in 2006-07 thinking about Ulysses as a part of a class at the Rosenbach, and I (sort of) grudgingly came to love the novel. I haven’t spent that much time with Ulysses since then, and it looks like I probably won’t even make to the steps of the Rosenbach this year to hear any of this year’s readers. (Scary thought: If I were reading the same passage this year, I’d go on four places after the governor!) But as much as I hate public speaking, and I really, really do, I regret—just a tiny bit—that I’m not at the Rosenbach today reading my passage from Ulysses.

My reading was from Eumaeus, the sixteenth episode of the novel, when protagonist Leopold Bloom and the young Stephen Dedalus are heading home from some scary experiences in “nighttown,” Dublin’s red light district. The passage, especially when read aloud, always makes me smile. I may not be at the Rosenbach today, but it seems fitting to revisit the passage here:

They thereupon stopped. Bloom looked at the head of a horse not worth anything like sixtyfive guineas, suddenly in evidence in the dark quite near so that it seemed new, a different grouping of bones and even flesh because palpably it was a fourwalker, a hipshaker, a blackbuttocker, a taildangler, a headhanger putting his hind foot foremost the while the lord of his creation sat on the perch, busy with his thoughts. But such a good poor brute he was sorry he hadn’t a lump of sugar but, as he wisely reflected, you could scarcely be prepared for every emergency that might crop up. He was just a big foolish nervous noodly kind of a horse, without a second care in the world. But even a dog, he reflected, take that mongrel in Barney Kiernan’s, of the same size, would be a holy horror to face. But it was no animal’s fault in particular if he was built that way like the camel, ship of the desert, distilling grapes into potheen in his hump. Nine tenths of them all could be caged or trained, nothing beyond the art of man barring the bees. Whale with a harpoon hairpin, alligator tickle the small of his back and he sees the joke, chalk a circle for a rooster, tiger my eagle eye. These timely reflections anent the brutes of the field occupied his mind somewhat distracted from Stephen’s words while the ship of the street was manoeuvring and Stephen went on about the highly interesting old.

– What’s this I was saying? Ah, yes! My wife, he intimated, plunging in medias res, would have the greatest of pleasure in making your acquaintance as she is passionately attached to music of any kind.

He looked sideways in a friendly fashion at the sideface of Stephen, image of his mother, which was not quite the same as the usual handsome blackguard type they unquestionably had an insatisable hankering after as he was perhaps not that way built.

Happy Bloomsday!

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The Wheat Pool

If you haven’t heard The Wheat Pool, a Canadian alt-country-ish band, it’s time you did. Just click play to hear five cool songs. The Wheat Pool’s new album, Township, is highly recommended.

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Happy Father’s Day!

Especially to mine.

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