Saturday, January 19, 2008

Books, Books, Books

I haven't been in a blogging mood lately and I am not sure why. Maybe getting school started again has taken my energy or perhaps my tendency to be over-reflective at this time of year or the fact that I have been producing music rather than words has led to my blogging hiatus. Just not sure. Anyway, today I feel like discussing Larry McMurtry and books in general.

I have had a love of books for as long as I can remember. I am sure that my parents read to me as a child, for I recall The Little Engine that Could, Where the Wild Things Are, and unlimited Dr. Seuss, and I know my dad always had a story to fit every occasion, having heard the boy who cried wolf many times, and I'm sure I believed every story as the truth, and I have no doubt that while the stories had elements of truth, they were also laced with elements of creative imagination! Nevertheless, the love of books was instilled in me from inception, and I suspect a love of books, love of knowledge, words, stories, and ideas will remain with me until the Lord takes me home. My heart quickens when I enter a bookstore or a library, and the smell of books is almost as enticing as the feel of opening a book and seeing words.

And as a junior high student, replete with the expected immaturity and funny blend of arrogance and insecurity over my thin frame, quick mind, limited but expressive talent, eye for the ladies, and general confusion that accompanies all young teenagers, I began to read various authors such as but not limited to Steinbeck, Hemingway, Bellow, Huxley, Dreiser, McMurtry, Michener, John MacDonald, and Donald Hamilton. I also recall that odd and special day when my father and I entered a store, which if memory serves me was a Gibsons, and did the inevitable looking over the book rack. This was a normal event for us (which I thought was normal for everyone!) and usually resulted in the purchase of a paperback. This particular day I paused when I saw the title Tucker by western author Louis L'Amour, and in my youth I wondered idly if it might be a book about my dad. I recall reaching for it out of curiosity and seeing my father, who was reading through something else, glance over as I picked it up. He asked me if I wanted to buy the book and after a little discussion, he said "why not," and we bought it. In retrospect, I am now aware that Dad was always quick to buy us a book, and slow to buy us candy or a toy!

My tendency to immerse myself completely and totally in whatever the interest is at the time is both compulsive and rewarding. Whether it is the music of a certain composer, my latest interest being Stephen Sondheim, or a famous performer, or commodity trading, or political posturing, or the contributions of a historical figure, or the writings of a particular author (you may recall my obsession with reading every book by Philip Roth), I tend to learn everything I possibly can about that subject or person, bathing myself in knowledge and experience of that one thing, and then go on to something else. Unfortunately, this is an expensive habit that has caused many a discussion between my wife and me. Anyway, as a young teenager, I read L'Amour's Tucker, enjoyed it, as did my father, and subsequently, which took many years, read everything written by Louis L'Amour who along with countless others, mostly my parents, had an influence on my life in shaping who I am today.

I also recall reading Moving On by a relatively unknown author named Larry McMurtry, who later became known for Lonesome Dove and Comanche Moon, which although they along with Terms of Endearment and The Last Picture Show could be his most well-known are in reality simply some of his many great books. After reading Moving On, my interest in McMurtry's books increased, and I have remained in awe of his writing style, literary contributions, and his remarkable, gifted talent of writing stories with hidden meanings and deep philosophical significance. Although I have not yet read everything written by Mr. McMurtry, not all his books are easily available, I have read most of his books and continue to respect his career and his ability to tell a story.

And I recently had the great pleasure to meet him and to discuss books, for we do have something in common--a love of books. His eyes glowed as we talked about various authors and where to find certain books, along with the styles and contributions of writers living or deceased. I was a little startled to find him less interested in himself, particularly in that he has had an enviable career in Hollywood, and more interested in talking about other authors. I found him to be gracious, intelligent, perceptive, energetic, friendly, and quite ingratiating as we shared our views and interests in books. I wanted more time but alas he was busy and I needed to go. But the time spent talking to Mr. McMurtry was meaningful, and I will always appreciate our few moments together.

If you are looking for something to read, or just curious about authors, I always enjoy a good book discussion and have many recommendations. Reading broadens our world, entertains us, teaches us, and demonstrates the wonders of the human creative spirit by presenting facts and imagination using the written word. It is my hope and belief that no matter how advanced our technological universe becomes, and I write this with great irony considering my enjoyment of computers, that the collective and individual desire to hold a book in hand will remain forever. Thank you Mom and Dad for giving me a love of books.

Saturday, January 05, 2008

The Floor

The face registered concern with just a touch of irritation, but in contrast the words that came out were pleasant, and unless one were perceptive or sensitive, one might have missed the tense body language, the slightest contention in the tone of voice, and the hint of agitation as the custodian reminded me she had just waxed the floor. Yet not the smallest tinge of disrespect or rudeness accompanied her gentle and pleasant reminder as she pointed out the glossy, clean shine on the floor. Like a child, showing a report card colorfully displaying many S+'s, or a mechanic who just fixed your car, or a stock broker who made you lots of money, or a doctor who discovered the problem, her demeanor was one of the personal pride, joy, and satisfaction that comes when a job is well-done.

There are many ways to approach a project or responsibility and all of us are guilty of performing the task minimally or of meeting that expectation objectively or even somewhat distantly with a lack of emotional commitment to the cause. In some ways this is a normal part of living. Most tasks are simply mundane requirements for everyday life--such as brushing your teeth, getting dressed (although my wife often turns this into a big project!), going to work, etc. Meals, however, do often require a greater commitment and preparation for excellence as exemplified by the training and skill needed for culinary superiority. It is easy to see how a person can emphasize cooking as a trade, a profession, and even a passion; but less easy to lift up or acknowledge value in quality brushing of teeth or getting dressed or getting in your car to go to work. So we tend to place a kind of arbitrary human judgment on tasks that appear to be basic as opposed to tasks that require training and skill. Perhaps this is the reason society tends to elevate certain professions over others, and certainly, years of training for a particular responsibility should be respected.

Yet in essence, it doesn't really matter what the task is or whether we are emotionally involved in the completion of the project, we still should dedicate ourselves to persevere and accomplish all tasks with both aplomb and distinction. Such is the case with our custodian who day in and day out, strives to achieve neatness, cleanliness, and a degree of aesthetic artistry within the parameters of her job description. In short, she wants our building to be clean and look good. With those goals at the top of her list, she relentlessly and tirelessly comes to work early and dedicates herself to the task at hand. She is loved and appreciated and maybe a little feared as she sweetly but firmly applies excellence to our building. She is valued beyond measure and is an important part of our lives. Thank you, Mary!

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

New Year--2008

Of course there are many things I would like to accomplish this year including save more money, lose some weight, write a book, be a better father, be a better husband, practice my horn more, exercise more, do a better job as an administrator, get more organized, read my Bible more, read more books, smile more, be a better friend, follow through with my ideas, accomplish more, blog more, eat right, drink more water, and be a better deacon.

Actually the list could and probably should be infinite with the things that need improving. But instead of making these things resolutions, I have decided make a resolution not to resolve anything. To resolve is make a determined decision with a conclusive goal. While there is nothing wrong with doing so, it seems to me that the antithesis of a resolution is indecision.

When the opposite of a New Year's resolution is confusion, indirection, doubt, hesitancy, and dubiety, then one realizes that in fact, every day is a battle between a resolution and a non-resolution, for no one desires confusion and indecision. A resolution is a sort of strange personal pact made with yourself to help you improve your appearance, your health, your character, or perhaps your behavior. A kind of self-accountability, a commitment to a worthwhile cause or project, a determination to master a particular goal. So in this respect, resolutions should be a normal part of our everyday life.

We resolve to wake up, pray, exercise, get dressed, eat breakfast, brush our teeth, help our family, go to work, accomplish goals, and the list goes on and on. To have no resolutions is to do nothing. Therefore, if I truly resolve to not resolve anything then I must be resolving not to solve anything and without solving anything, I must be resolving to be confused and not make any decisions, which means that I live in a continual state of non-decision or a total lack of resolution, a type of black hole with no beginning and no end--an entirely impossible situation. But fortunately and ironically, to resolve not to resolve is to make a resolution. So in the end, I do indeed make a resolution, which, in truth, is how we live our lives everyday. We solve problems--some mundane, some major, some later, some immediately. I now do make a resolution and that is to avoid writing about New Year's resolutions ever again.