370 and counting

I'm not sure how it happened but I'm currently addicted to entering books on Goodreads. I've had an account for several years never thinking much of it even though I do have a long (as in decades) held desire to know how many books I've read in a year and to be able to keep track of which books I've read overall. Maybe I'd finally had enough of it, enough not knowing. Or maybe I'm reaching out for some sort of meaning, to construct something which says, "I've lived" or "I'm here!" or "My life counts--see how many books I've read." Whatever the deeper fucked up psychological reason, it doesn't really matter much why. I enjoy inputing the books, sometimes scanning a book I haven't touched in years, seeing my notes at the beginning (e.g. "1998 Thanksgiving Rexburg," "Book club 11/2008"), remembering my motivations for reading.

And I'm noticing patterns. There is a small spike in more serious nonfiction titles in 1999, which didn't make sense to me at first. But then, duh, I realized I finished my master's degree in 98 and then all of sudden had all this intellectual curiosity and also some time. That curiosity led me to many books (Kozol's Amazing Grace, Cahill's How the Irish Saved Civilization, Rodriguez's Hunger of Memor) and eventually led me out of teaching high school and to SLCC where I'm at now.

My actual reviews (if I enter one at all) are quite short but are less review, more reading autobiography. I've less interested in evaluated the books than of marking what the book meant to me at the time of reading. For example Kozol's Amazing Grace made me aware of poverty in a way I'd never been aware of before, made me feel in in my bones. Under my review for The Roadless Traveled, a book I'm unsure (maybe even afraid) how I would respond to now, I clearly situate the book in my life history:

"For a long time this was my personal Bible, my bulwark against Mormonism and religion. The section on love had a profound effect on me and continues to come to mind as an adult: real love is always based on the concern for another person's spiritual growth. e

My mom gave me this book, an amazing insightful move."

Having entered hundreds of books over the last few weeks, the supposed big events (graduations, LDS mission, girlfriends, jobs, houses) of my life grayscale into the background, allowing defined book covers into the foreground, which knit together my emotional and intellectual shifts and development.

It's an episodic, much less linear, representation of my life. For the moment it is a representation I intend to indulge in, savor, squeezing out the supposed milestones. I rather like seeing my life as stitched together passages about love and spiritual growth from the Road Less Traveled (read in 1986) with Kabat-Zinn's (read in 2009)ideas on mindfulness and accepting where one is. On one hand the two readers of these books, separated by 23 years seem impossibly distinct and distant; on the other hand both readers--the 17 year old unsure about his desires and the 40 year old unsure about anyone defining his desires--clearly come from the same self, the same self who has now for years found such pleasure and discovery through reading.

Pesthouse: A post-apocalyptic reshaping of the American Dream

The second paragraph of the prologue made me pause, gave me hope in that I was about to experience something BIG:

"But there are always some awake in the small times of the morning--teh lovemakers, for instance, the night workers, the ones with stone-hard beds or aching backs, the ones with nagging consciences or bladders, the sick. And animals of course."

What a lovely, spot on passage, BIG passage. And overall this post-apocalyptic tale did not disappoint as we watch the unlikely pairing of Franklin and Red Margaret, Franklin tenderly pulling the sickness out of Margaret as she suffers abandoned in the pesthouse.

Yet the journey is devastating, in several ways more violent and less hopeful than McCarthy's harrowing The Road. Here too they travel on a road towards the ocean and hope. But this is a world fraught with illness, fear, and calculating marauders who slaughter and laugh. America has been brought down to its knees; there is no liberty or freedom or American Dream.

Crace courageously tries to at once deconstruct the American Dream through fire and pain...and I wanted embrace his new dream built out of the ashes but, ultimately, stood back--book at arm's length--and watched, unable to completely embrace it.

Still, the impossible romance--the tenderness, the humanity amongst hopelessness, the understated understanding--between Franklin and Margaret will remain with me.

A sprinkle of grading

Spring break is wonderful even with a sprinkle of grading to finish up the day:

• first bike ride of the year with Ali yesterday (she did take crash but recovered and got back on the horse)
• reach 200 books on my Goodreads account though I cheated by adding 30 Three investigator books from my youth--but hey I loved these books and they had to go on the list
• Read a good sized chunk of The Pesthouse by Jim Crace, a post-apocalyptic journey novel. Kind of similar to The Road in content though not style.
• finished Waltz with Bashir, an intriguing/disturbing animated film about a Jewish soldier who has lost his memories of serving in Lebanon

I will leave you with one of the most compelling/haunting images from Waltz...

Soaking up the sun at Snow Canyon and Zions

A little amateur photography by the youngster at Snow Canyon: Long stick of wheat grass against rocks...or something like that.

Less known yet just as beautiful Snow Canyon.

Mini-desert lakes: Snow Canyon

Resting on the first set of switchbacks towards Angel's Landing and only photo we got of Hana hiking.

We are actually heading down here, but forgive the chronology: the last section of switchbacks before it really got steep.

Gives me goosebumps and shivers, both the good and bad kind: that's not merely a beautiful landscape behind us; it's the trail we just came up.

Last half of Angel's Landing: aren't trees amazingly resilient?

This was a good idea, right?

On top of Angel's Landing there was just enough snow to make one nervous.

Seth on top of Angel's Landing gaining a few more feet of elevation than the rest of us.

Sun, what else?

Impossible to express how much I'm enjoying the sun aand 50+ degrees of St. George. Just got back from hiking Angel's Landing in Zions with the family--little ice and snow but not bad. Heading to the Pasta Factory which offer great build your own pasta options. Yum.

Why, I ask, did it take me so long to figure out this simple equation:

sun + christmas break + warmth + travel = a much, much happier Ron

Last year Vegas and St George--from here on out I will travel somewhere warm and sunny EVERY winter break. No doubt.

It's Wonderful Christmas Eve

I'm watching George Bailey walking through the snow, staring into the water, contemplating a jump to end it all. It's all very familiar... Over-warm because Andrew, my youngest, insisted on the once-a-year traditional fire which moves the temp squarely into the 80s. All of us watching a film together--a rarity. A night of Santa-Clausing ahead though, now with two teens, much scaled down as there are no big toys to assemble, no big surprises really. Left-over Chinese food in the fridge from our Christmas Eve dinner.

How many views? A dozen at least. Even I have some of the dialog mostly memorized:

"I'm shakin' the dust of this crummy little town off my feet"

"A flaming rum punch?...Look mister we serve hard drinks in here for men who want to get drunk fast"

"She's an old maid. She never married." (haunting music playing)

And I start to notice details I've overlooked: a squirrel on uncle Billy's desk; a skull on Potter's desk when he offers George Bailey a job; Christmas masks George's children are wearing (btw how did anyone think it was a good idea for a child to run around in a old man Santa mask? creepy!).

And so tonight I celebrate ritual and tradition where life slows and repose is found if but a moment.

Lotsa books III: The end of faith by Sam Harris

I had a fair amount of context I brought to this book: had always meant to read something by Sam Harris once I was aware of him several years ago, had heard him debate Chris Hedges on Truthdig and was impressed with his clear reason in the debate though ultimately sided more with Hedges, had first read Richard Dawkins'The God Delusion as my introduction to the New Atheists.

What I liked:

• Harris attacks the right and left with vigor, even more so the left especially in chapter 4, "The problem with Islam" which caused me to question every apologetic word I've uttered in defense of moderate Islam.
• He is much much more readable than Dawkins
• He, unlike Dawkins, doesn't try to simultaneously take on religion and any "unscientific" discourse like postmodernism (at least he doesn't in this book)
• So many provocative quotables--I will give you a few:

"Religious moderates are, in large part, responsible for the religious conflict in our world, because their beliefs provide the context in which scriptural literalism and religious violence can never be adequately opposed" (45)

"The only thing we should respect in a person's faith is his desire for a better life in this world; we need never have respected his certainty that one awaits him in the next" (225)

"We have, in response to the this improbable fact, declared war on 'terrorism.' This is rather like declaring war on 'murder'; it is a category error that obscures the true cause of our troubles. Terrorism is not a source of human violence, but merely one of its inflections" (28)

In homage to lotsa books

Having books all around your house leads to 67% more reading though does not, according tot he experts, necessarily lead to actually finishing books; therefore, a celebration is in store every time I actually finish a book:

From the last page of the simply, yet fully explanatory, Bodies by Susie Orbach

"Our struggle is to recorporealise our bodies so that they become a place we live from rather than an aspiration always needing to be achieved"

"We need bodies sufficiently stable to allow us moments of bliss and adventure when, sure that they exist, we can then take leave of them"

NOTE: neither of these quotations was underlined though the previous reader of this book carefully, well not so carefully, underlined many insightful passages. My guess is once said reader hit the last two pages she was too excited, yet tired, to mark anymore. That, or I have no sense of a good quote.

Orbach also offers several critiques of postmodernism's insistence on performing our bodies in an effort to celebrate multiplicity and fluidity, but I won't bother with those quotations as certainly both sides overstate.

Time taken to read this simple, straight-forward, 200 page book: Several months, maybe more.

Context: book got lost amongst amazon and half.com purchases...and I think my wife borrowed it for a bit.

Lotsa books

The good thing about ordering lots of books online is that you get a package every day or two and, because you ordered so many and can't remember which book should be arriving, you get surprised each time you tear through that incredibly tough plastic crap they wrap them in; the bad thing is they cost money and take up space to the point of bookshelf and office overload which threatens to cover every free space (but maybe that's a good thing too because now everywhere I look I see a book and I like books; except I also, then, feel a bit overwhelmed because I have so much to read--possibly a tie between the good and the bad).

Off to open my two packages, the ones I've been eyeying as I typed each of these words.

The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance

A hilarious memoir by Elna Baker. As always I'm probably late to the party, but if my ex/non/less active mormon friends haven't read this you should because you will laugh and most certainly find connections with her struggles to be a "faithful" mormon; and my anti/non/living in utah friends should read her memoir because it should help humanize mormons who seem to do crazy things (like not having sex until they are married).

It's certainly the most rukous, honest, over-the-edge writing I've ever read by a practicing mormon. For example while staring into those funky amusement park mirrors, ones which made her look 80lbs skinnier, she says, "For the first time, I had a sweet spirit and a sweet ass." Now that's the best double entendre of the Mormon "sweet" that I've ever read.

Other highlights:

*Comparing a patriarchal blessing to Keannu Reeves visiting the Oracles in the Matrix

*A description of how she used the "Fascinating Girl" (a book it seems many young Mormon girls were given which instructs them on how to please men through submission; my wife received a copy from her grandmother but I don't think it worked) to help her get a mormon boyfriend

*while getting hot and heavy with her atheist boyfriend she suddenly, unintentionally whispers in his ear "you need to pray and find out if god exists" which she later subscribes to her struggle with God Tourette's syndrome.

BSG is over

I just finished the last 14 minutes of Battlestar Galactica as I ate my lunch--the last 14 minutes of the entire series. And let me tell you my friends that I am sad, sad of heart and mind. How can it be over already? What will happen to Admiral Adama without Roslin? Will the Cylons attack again? How will the humans and Cylons live together?

Rarely have I been so caught up in a series. And, sadly, I'm sure it will be a long long time before I find something as good. Thanks to Dr. W and Middlebrow for hooking me up though now you are responsible for my withdrawals.

BSG you were so frakking good!

FUN

Last week we went to some U of U musical festival (aka spend lots of student fee money type event). We did not go for the event but for the middle group FUN, a group my oldest son introduced us to while we drove oh the many miles to Pacific Ocean and Redwoods. Growing to like FUN, the wife and I were IN when we found out about the concert.

Little did we know that there would be NO-body over the age of say 27 at the concert and NO-body under the age of say 18. So we were both the oldest at 40 or so and the youngest at 15 and 16 (the friend Seth took). I knew I was an outlier when they handed me a pamphlet on unintended pregnancies while waiting for a free snow cone. With three intended pregnancies completed and one vasectomy between us it didn't seem we were prime candidates for this literature. I guess we could have given one to my son and his friend-girl but we didn't want them to think of such things.

Other than feeling a bit old (yet also hip) it was a great concert. We were able to get quite close without getting down in the mosh-pit where we could see our son and friend bobbing around (their lack of age didn't scare them away from moshing). FUN was indeed very fun. An fairly new indie pop/rock band: check out their music video and other songs (especially The Gambler). And if you like come enjoy some FUN with us at The Venue on October 16th.

Surely there will be some older folks (like say 31) at the Venue, right?

shout out

I rarely do this but I must I must: if you missed or if you don't read his blog, check out Signifying nothing's disc golf movie posted a couple of weeks ago. I had a full-body, all out laugh.

p.s. also watching this video might lessen any lingering anger you have about dogs or about my views concerning dogs.

An open letter to dog owners

Ok, so I hate dogs. There you go. I've said it. Sorry dog lovers but it's mostly true. Sometimes it seems safer to criticize the sancrosanct halls of religion than the glorious cultural institution of dog ownership.

It's not that I hate any one dog in front of me panting or chasing a stick or one I'm petting. In fact I find dog faces and actions to be charming (except the nose-in-crotch-move), even cute. And I'm perfectly willing to put up with the nose-in-crotch or even the dog-shit-on-shoe. Unfortunately dogs also bark and whine. And this I hate.

Of course most dog owners think those annoying dogs are the other guys, but I'm pretty sure that can't be true. Those barking dogs all over must be owned by some of the people who think their dogs rarely bark. BARKING DOGS REALLY STRESS ME OUT. And this makes me wonder why people love dogs so much given that they bark, given that they know they will annoy their HUMAN neighbors, keep them up, put them on edge. How does one justify impacting 20 people who live around you so you can once in awhile walk your dog or rub his head???

Annoy isn't quite the right word though; it under-sales the annoyance. It's about more than just an annoyance. Example: Often these days I can't go out in my back yard to pick a tomato because...a stupid dog, one I've tried to make friends with no success, barks wildly at me. This makes me feel like I lost ownership of my back yard and my garden, enjoyments I deserve but are now taken away from me because someone believes owning a dog is vital to their lives.

Yet if the dog is vital why do I hear the owner yelling constantly at the dog to shut-up? I do not understand dog ownership. I simply do not. That's ok but if someone wants a dog please don't share the negative aspects of such a purchase with me, your neighbor. I didn't choose to buy a dog and I don't get any of the benefits (face licks? companionship? goofy looks we anthropomorphize?).

Nervously awaiting attacks from readers.

OR Coast and CA Redwoods

2275: miles driven

7: national forests visited

2: national parks seen (Crater and Redwood)

4: state parks entered (two amazing ones just outside of Coos Bay)

3: P & B sandwiches eaten

22: couples traveling 101 with bikes heavy laden gear

Thousands: redwood trees experienced

1: redwood trees driven through

2: helpings of fish and chips

0: things left in hotels

3: things left in hotel 2 weeks ago in Cedar city

3: visits to the hot tub

1: motel dives stayed at

3: gracious, mostly curious, kid-teen travelers

2700: feet gained on hikes

9: hikes taken

4: motels/hotels stayed in

3: bike rides with the wife

80: miles cycled

1: dangerous cycle ascent and descent on highway 101 into the deliciously dark redwoods

thousands: rocks on the ocean hopped with youngest son

2: days before I must return to work

If I were sane

I should really get ahead today but I won't. Instead we biked nearly 50 miles (and I think it counts for 50+ as it included the very long, steep ascent to the LDS Bountiful temple). Now will shower (yes I am sitting in my office chair and writing in my unwashed stinky cycling jersey--had to ice my hip man!), then go eat at the Buddhist Temple (yes they do have a Buddhist Temple in Layton), then eat some ice cream and berries because everything will taste delicious after our 3 hr ride this morning (one of THE reasons I exercise), then will think about reading something like the Icelandic novel HighTouch recommended but I won't because I will be so tired (or maybe I will read 2 pages before my eyes...start....to....slowly...shut), then I'm not sure what I will do--certainly it won't be of the getting-ahead nature though as by then I will be too tired to do anything worky (btw the reason I should get ahead is because the work, ah the work of grading and the hiring committee, will come crashing down on monday so if I were sane I would try to get just a little bit ahead but I won't).

The Sloughing off of desire

I'm not writing in my own or reading many blogs these days. It was not a conscious decision; rather, instead, a slow sloughing of desire for inside/computer things and an increase in desire for outdoor/cycling/hiking/gardening activities.

Still, I do check into the blogging world on occasion--just read (though didn't comment) a great post from HT Mega and the Cold cold north.

Maybe I will get revved up about blogging or possibly it will fade into that distant past of "things I used to do." Either way, I am certainly glad I started a blog several years back.

It was at a crucial moment for me--negotiating and constructing an identity not tied to the rules and regs of Mormonism. But that main purpose is now less pressing and, for all my good intentions, I doubt I will every fully develop a blog for the people as some of my friends have done. Seems I am in the majority of bloggers who ebb and flow according to personal needs and circumstances; a rare blogger it is who creates a robust consistent public persona like HT Mega or Signifying Nothing.

Most of us our content with the ebb and flowing, personal rants, lists and occasional deep reflections. Which is fine too (i.e. no criticism intended). Merely interesting to note, for me, our different motivations for making our writing public. In intend no hierarchy of blogging. I could now go all scholarly here with a bit of work but I think not. If I did I might contradict the entire tenor of my post--the sloughing off of desire.

Stop the insanity

I'm walking on the sidewalk in the cul de sac where I live, toward the house which has been vacant for over a year. My errand is improbable: to retrieve a political door hanger recently deposited. Walking over, barefoot with the images--the sun shaving away, the alpenglow--of Dillard's "Total Eclipse" still washing over me, I feel the calm sureness of my meditative walking of last summer. Yet deeper, I'm rattled, heart quickens remembering the charged emotions of minutes ago.

"Can I give you one of these?" a young man of maybe 20 asks approaching my swing, stepping on my grass, entering my space.

"What is it?" I ask in a friendly tone; I'm pretty sure he won't give a sales pitch as he has been quickly leaving his hangers on each door.

"Tim Bridg...."


"No, I'm not interested in that." He turns and walks to the next house.

But to my surprise I'm not through with him: "Too bad you are wasting your time on that." He walks quickly up to the next house cutting across the lawn. I watch.

When he turns to come back to the sidewalk, I heckle: "So we need someone more conservative huh? That's what we need? More business. Less concern for the everyday guy?" He does not proffer even a turn of the head.

As he moves to the next house, my boys come out from the living room, wondering about the commotion. I tell them that young man is supporting a lunatic and I won't have it on my lawn. I'm kind of grinning but their faces tell me it may be a sinister grin. The young man sneaks a quick peak back at us. I wonder what is going through his head: "another crazy liberal--should have known it with that earring" or maybe he was silently singing a hymn, a tactic learned on his LDS mission, to fight his impulse to break my face.

I almost start to chastise myself: could have talked to him...should have engaged him. But no; I'm angry and I'm not apologizing. Could have been much worse: I fantasize imagining door hangers accidentally falling to the ground, my hose unfortunately dousing them...very sorry for that.

And now I'm walking, walking barefoot with beautiful descriptions of an eclipse in my mind to retrieve these political rantings. I want to assure myself that I wasn't overreacting. I first notice "race between....business man....lawyer" then "Stop the insanity" and almost panic: "maybe it's are actually critical of the the upcoming race, the whole thing." Relieved, yet profoundly disappointed, I see it is clearly a spot for Tim Bridgewater.

When Bob Bennett isn't conservative enough to make it out of the republican caucus you know you are in trouble. I'm angry. Knew I was peeved about all this but had no idea how angry. Tired of these rich people who tell us we should stop needless wealth distribution. How could this get a guy making 30K with no insurance to vote for Tim? But it will. And that guy will feel safer at night because he will believe that spooky Obamacare won't ruin our nation now that Tim is on the job.

Imitations

Why we should walk (actually meant to post this yesterday)

I almost asked my wife to follow me in the van down to my local mechanic; I’m so glad I didn’t. On the short half mile walk home I was amazed at what I saw that I miss each day as I drive the same route to work: the refreshing brisk breeze, a mother goose with six tiny goslings, a enormously fat robin, the sound of a beautiful whistling bird which tellingly I do not know the name of, the presence of the wooded land somehow not developed along our neighborhood’s one and only country road.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m abundantly thankful for a cheap efficient car which moves me from place to place in comfort, but I was struck by the unseen, often unfelt price we pay if we unmindfully take advantage of this luxury.