Contractarianism or Natural Human Decency

The news release of the confiscation of cell phones at a Texas Junior High school due to the sharing of indecent images of two female students at the school has prompted a series of questions in my mind. As a Christian, Bible reading, God-fearing, family-loving, law-abiding man, I find myself questioning how these things can happen and what kind of moral code is being instilled in our teenagers. With this question, I wonder about the advent of technology and how that will affect contractarianism, a concept that has existed historically and seems to bear out in progress and refinement in our society.

The idea of social contract theory is that if all things are within the realm of normal sanity and if life is in a typical day to day situation without any kind of critical experience, people live within a moral code established almost subliminally in a type of acceptance of right and wrong regardless of the laws set forth by man or by God. In other words, we somehow seem to know what is best for ourselves and for other people. An objectivist, a person who subscribes to the philosophical movement proposed by Ayn Rand, might say that the adherence to selfish principles ultimately serves other people by virtue of respecting individuality. It is your individual right to pursue excellence and to make social decisions that are in your best interest. For example if you are standing in line for a hamburger, you might be a little impatient at the slow line, but you choose not to express loud expletives at the workers who are delivering the burgers at a slow pace. You might choose to go somewhere else or you might offer a suggestion for improvement, but you also have a sense of what ultimately is best for you which might be to wait patiently for the burger in spite of the difficult circumstances.

But whatever the deep motivation behind a given behavior, there is no doubt that contractarianism exists in culture and in society both individually and collectively. We seem to have a natural understanding of what is moral and what is not apart from our governmental laws or religious training, embracing and seeking out the best behavior that suits our purposes either selfishly or selflessly regardless of state intervention. In contrast, a Christian, such as I, might posture that social contract theory is limited, however, by relativism and situational ethics and does not contain the unyielding requirements set forth by Biblical law. And this is certainly true.

While I have heard it stated that there is no behavior that a Christian can do that is any different from a non-Christian, I think the difference lies in those higher moral responsibilities that certainly may exist outside of Christianity but perhaps not as universally (yes, I recognize the logic flaw and the box I just opened!) nor as succinctly. Obviously there is a danger, a narrow slice, and in fact becomes anathema to categorize and label Christianity as solely being a system of moral choices or providing a cultural framework; yet it cannot be denied that it is part of societal gain. Even a devout atheist cannot ignore the moral good resulting from the permeation of Christianity in our world.

But let's return to our incident of the indecent photographs on multiple cell phones. This is not a religious issue and if the students were older, it would not be a governmental issue, but somehow, almost instinctually, we sense that the event crosses over into an affront to the unwritten social contract to which we abide every day. In the end, apart from our many failings as humans, we insist on embracing and practicing natural human decency that respects and honors the individual but protects the corporate and hopefully the innocent.

We fight for independence but seek to create a climate of good that benefits the most people. While the moral code of society may fluctuate some, and there is a floating relativism that makes us a little uncomfortable, we continue to battle for what is right and what is good. The flaws are rampant in contractarianism but it is also a concept that explains the sociological phenomenon that takes place when laws are not obviously governing a situation. We tend to adopt a behavioral pattern that is acceptable to the people around us and serves the greater good.

In our current case of the inappropriate photographs one of the problems, among many, is the lack of maturation of the individuals involved not to mention wisdom and judgment. This means that social contract theory is only applicable to mature individuals and even with this requirement, still does not supply the explanation for many of culture's current challenges. It is my hope that the students are punished for their actions and that cell phone usage be governed closely. It is furthermore my suggestion that an age restriction for particular technological activities be imposed on teenagers as they continue to learn how to apply natural human decency to their everyday lives.

Trip to El Paso

I headed out to El Paso on a Friday and returned to Brownwood on the next day. It was a long but quick trip full of CD listening, the occasional store stop, and a couple of observations along the way. Traveling requires a few breaks now and then, but I wonder if there is a clean restroom between Brownwood and El Paso. I am not necessarily a neat, compulsively fastidious person and do prefer a little randomness and clutter in my life at least to an extent, yet my mother taught me to respect cleanliness and to avoid germs when possible. So it is rather disconcerting to walk into a public restroom in a convenient store and find filth on the floor, walls, and various fixtures.

On the one hand, I want to direct some righteous anger at people who use the restroom and are unable to find the garbage cans, or enjoy spitting gum in the urinals, or insist on writing creative sayings on the wall, which in and of itself could be another diatribe of examination over what some of these things really mean, yet for now let's skirt that subject rather judiciously. But I also wonder about the quality control of such situations particularly as I see workers in the store talking on cell phones or reading a magazine in the corner. So I took care of personal business rather quickly and avoided stores when possible.

I ate some delicious and filling barbecue in the town of Monahans and was tempted to finish my late lunch with some peach cobbler but decided against it in favor of a nice meal in El Paso on Friday evening. I drove onward listening to jazz pianist hyper-talent Oscar Peterson play his amazingly smooth improvisations on various jazz tunes and found myself laughing once again at the jazz standard "Mumbles," a nonsensical chart of pure jazz guaranteed to bring a smile. After the musical bath of great jazz, I gravitated to some Philip Glass with an early effort called "The Civil warS, a tree is best measured when it is down." This early corroborative effort of Glass and Robert Wilson was recently recorded and contains the engaging and energetic sounds of Philip Glass who is now one of the most successful Hollywood film score composers today.

By the time the Glass CD was over, I had arrived in Van Horn and had to make my usual stop at Ran Horn's Van Gogh Art Gallery. Of course, "usual" does not describe this experience. It is a fascinating warehouse of art works, books, videos, and lots of odds and ends. I sifted through the thousands of books and ended up buying two older books that mean something to me. An old John D. MacDonald and a Kenneth Roberts. I regretted not allowing more time to look for I suspect there are many other books of great interest. I had a quick but directed conversation with Mr. Horn related to purchasing these books and his goal of "going out of business." He reminded me that he could go out of business tomorrow or in 25 years. I elected not to pursue this line of conversation and chose instead to return to my vehicle and press onward to El Paso.

After checking in at the motel and setting up my computer, I knew it was time to check on my grandmother at the nursing home. I arrived, made the familiar walk through the wheelchairs, listened to the occasional strange comment from the clients, and went to my grandmother's room. Alas, she was asleep. Her nurse and I made a weak attempt to awaken her but to no avail. I hid my disappointment and peripherally wondered how often she could be considered awake and left to seek out a steak and perhaps a little lobster. I stopped at Cattle Baron, ate too much food which I enjoyed greatly, and returned back to my motel room for some reading and computer work.

The next day I woke up early, drank some coffee, read some more of my new John D. MacDonald book, made sure I was prepared and headed to the church now called Exciting Immanuel for the Howard Payne University recognition ceremony for the new graduates. I spoke with my usual mediocre flair, shook many hands, and headed home. The trip home was uneventful other than my quest for a decent sized tree, and listening to some more CDs. I had purchased a new Lionel Richie CD, a Maynard Ferguson collection, and the most enjoyable and gripping musical, Oliver. I arrived home in the evening and after hugging everyone, putting my things away, and relaxing for a minute or two, I headed to bed for a good night's sleep. And that, my friends, was my quick trip to El Paso and back.

Graduation Speech for HPU

Here is a truncated version of a speech for the recent graduates of Howard Payne University in El Paso, Texas.

In 1889, two men with a dream of starting a college in Brownwood, Texas approached a family member who lived in Missouri about helping this new school with a sizable gift. The man who gave the gift was named Edward Howard Payne. The Board of Trustees named the new school after this man. In 1953, Daniel Baker College, another local private school in the area, was consolidated with Howard Payne College which eventually became Howard Payne University in 1974. In its 119 year history, Howard Payne University has had 14,386 graduates of which you are one.

You are now a graduate of Howard Payne University and part of 28% of the country's population with a college degree. You are also most likely between the ages of 40-49, dispelling the myth that most college graduates are in their 20s. You are also most likely married with 2.3 children and you have increased your earning power by almost double (don't forget to remind your employer of this!).

But I have some bad news for you. You are probably not any smarter today than yesterday or even 4 years ago or however long it took you to get a degree. Your brain power, your aptitude, perhaps your skills, and maybe even your interests are probably the same as they were before you got a degree. In addition, your personality and most likely value system has not changed significantly during your pursuit of a degree. Sadly, unless you paid particular attention to one thing, you probably cannot be considered an expert at anything.

Research says that it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert in a particular field be it chess, mathematics, science, construction, or music. This comes to an average of 3 hours a day for 10 years or approximately 20 hours per week of dedicated effort to one thing. The greatest pianists violinists, and even bricklayers have spent 10,000 achieving that goal. Since getting a college degree involves a multitude of skills and knowledge in many areas, it is likely that you have not dedicated yourself to 10,000 hours in any one field. Yet research also says that even some dedicated effort to one thing is beneficial to lifelong achievement.

In fact, preparation and tenacious effort seem to pay long range dividends that extend beyond the immediate or obvious tangible gain. Often the years of preparation can result in a brief but immensely successful time of greatness. Probably the prime example of this is the life of Jesus Christ who spent 30 years in preparation for what would be a stunning 3 years of ministry that would ultimately change the world. His time spent in preparation certainly contributed in untold positive ways to his actions in shaping Christianity for the future. He paid the price for excellence and he majored in love, goodness, and sacrifice.

Your time in diligent effort preparing for your future, while it might not have led to the expert level yet, it does give you a degree of respect for your tenacity and yes, your knowledge. What has changed for you is how you are treated and what is expected from you. You might not double your salary tomorrow, but your employer may look at you with more respect. Your diploma might just be a piece of paper but it represents hard work and expectation of excellence. As a graduate of Howard Payne, we ask that you manifest and embody a Christian ethic, a Christian world-view, and mostly a Christ-like faith in the workplace. Best wishes to you as a new Howard Payne University graduate.

Acknowledging Greatness in Music

A recent post and subsequent comment has shaken me up a little and made me do some further examination and careful rumination on the issue of respecting and acknowledging the remarkable qualities of certain composers and certain works of music. The author of the comment related great music to great literature. The argument seems to be that by blurring the new with the old or by not making a distinction between popular, entertainment music for the masses and more elite music for the educated or the enlightened, we then somehow denigrate or lessen the music of the masters. Yet, logically, this does not add up for me.

The eclectic practice of using all kinds of music or literature from great to average or even less than average simply reaches a broader spectrum of people. It is ultimately time and the collective acknowledgment of experts that determine excellence and quality in music or literature. This makes it difficult, maybe impossible, to make a bold statement of something being "great" by historical standards of greatness that just came out recently. While I believe Philip Roth's book "The Human Stain" is indeed great and will withstand the test of time for excellence, in truth, I cannot determine that factor due to its relatively short lifespan. Yet my saying that I also enjoyed reading Dean Koontz' "The Good Guy" does not lessen the value of "The Human Stain," nor does it lessen "Hard Times" by Charles Dickens. By the same token, my recent reading of a John MacDonald novel from 1985 cannot be compared to reading Goethe's "The Sorrows of Young Werther." Both of these books were meaningful to me, but it is easy to give literary credence to Goethe's work over MacDonald's work by virtue of its place in time and its literary achievements not to mention its remarkable emotional depth that seems to stay active within the human psyche.

Can I or should I attempt to compare and contrast the music of Stevie Wonder with that of Johannes Brahms or the rock opera "Tommy" with the operas of Mozart? The musical depth aside from any textual implications is radically different upon a precursory glance. But a closer look reveals some fundamentally unifying elements in areas of harmony, melody, and even formal structure. A basic Schenkerian analysis of prolongation and reduction ultimately concludes cultivated music and music for mass consumption are not radically different from each other. With this truth, however, must come some sort of discernment between the two. I recall the odd analysis of Clementi melodies and Beethoven melodies. Clementi, whose reputation seems to rest solely on a few small piano pieces used for didactic purposes for student pianists, wrote beautiful melodies supported by idiomatic musical phrasing with subtle and charming moments of creativity and originality. Beethoven, similarly, composed nice and shapely melodies with underlying harmonic surprises not so different but certainly more colorful than Clementi. But, for the most part, the two composers approach melody in a similar fashion. So why do we acknowledge Beethoven as a grand master of composition, and Clementi as a relatively unknown composer of pedagogical piano music?

The difference lies in Beethoven's departure from traditional and expected forms and Beethoven's inventive and emotionally impacting development sections. He took the tools at his disposal and created something new and vital, something that continues to make a difference in the world through its complexity and power. Like an artist who with the same colors and canvas available to him as any other artist, asserts his individuality and creates something new and unique, so can a musician using the same available notes and rhythms invent a musical world that is fresh, expressive, original, and emotionally powerful.

Since it is combination of extensive time and the qualified opinion of trained expertise that determines superb art and music, it is not justifiable to meld or compare the music of Beethoven and the music of Lionel Richie. While each has its place and its purpose and each elicits a different kind of response, we do not have the luxury of 200 years to examine the music of Lionel Richie. But, at the same time, it is narrow and backwards to avoid music of today simply because it is too new for qualified assessment. Remember that Beethoven was once new as well.

I elect, therefore, to pursue truth by acknowledging the greatness of the past, by learning from the masters, and by recognizing the consistent reaction of great music. At the same time, woe is the musician who rejects the new automatically without considering its role in contemporary society and more importantly its potential to uphold the test of time. Very few love the music of Mozart as much as I, and there is little doubt as to its place in the college curriculum. Yet, maybe there is something magical about the music of Stevie Wonder and maybe it is worth including in the curriculum. Only time will tell the ultimate story.

Classical Music Today

It was with great interest that I read Terry Teachout's article titled "Free the Piano Player" (http://www.commentarymagazine.com/viewarticle.cfm/Free-the-Piano-Player-11278) where he gives the overall suggestion that concerts in the 19th century were more informal and improvisatory than today. The article begins with the bold statement, "It is now widely acknowledged that classical music in America is in dire, even desperate straits." His historical examination of piano recitals carries with it the recommendation that solo recitals of today include more variety and experimentation with communication and improvisation. Teachout points out that even young classical performers continue to present a very formal concert "consisting of three or four groups of pieces drawn from the standard repertoire and arranged in chronological order, never speaking a word out loud save to announce their encores."

I have also read much of Greg Sandow's articles on classical music, http://www.artsjournal.com/sandow/ and can sympathize and embrace his concept of developing ways to keep classical music alive. He advocates more creative programming on radio shows and live performances to include an eclectic approach with regard to genres, styles, and overall plan of music concerts. He often points out the value of bridging the gap between cultivated music and what he calls "mainstream" or entertainment music. Sandow says of his students, "And yet here we have my students, and so many other young classical musicians, who inhabit both worlds. They're in the classical music world, as young professionals, and they're also in the mainstream world, sharing the same culture as their friends who don't pay attention to classical music."

In our typical college curriculum, we continue to insist on an "old school" kind of curriculum with the argument that it provides the fundamentals or building blocks from which music is created. And there is no doubt this is true to a point. But perhaps our (our meaning we college professors!) very design of only dealing with our own myopic description of quality music curriculum has in essence widened the gap and polarized audiences rather than narrowing it and bringing about societal musical congruity. Even more frightening is the awareness that maybe we prefer it that way--in an almost elitist indifference to the uneducated ear. A type of refusal to throw your pearls before the swine attitude that results in smaller audiences not bigger.

Somehow I suspect that my students have an innate understanding and desire to bring great music to the people and that I have missed the elements needed for this to happen. In my very training and love of the classics, perhaps I have inadvertently placed an exclusive wall and arrogant barrier between my desire for musical excellence at all levels and the mainstream desire for enjoyment and entertainment. Obviously, I am not speaking of me necessarily for I have actually worked hard to be a part of mainstream music making.

When I am a horn player, I gravitate naturally to Mozart. When conducting, I am concerned with musical precision and beauty of phrase. When teaching music history, I emphasize the classics, the finest music by the best composers, determined primarily by music that has withstood the test of time. When teaching theory, I am drawn to Wagner and Schoenberg; but then I don my other hat and become a gospel pianist with a love of rock and folk music from the 60s and 70s! I then turn another direction and find myself playing jazz piano or directing music theater or arranging marching band music. It all has a place in my musical life.

Music is great fun and maybe it is time for those of us in musical academia to make it fun for the players and the audience also. I do advocate for greater communication, eclecticism in programming, variety of genres and styles and mostly for enjoyment for all. But, and here is where my elitist hat comes back on I'm afraid, I do want to remain committed to excellence in performance, and I hope we keep at least some degree of formality in our product if not consistently, perhaps intermittently.

Whatever we adopt and whatever we practice, it is my dream (a variation of the dream of Leonard Bernstein, Gustav Mahler, Antonin Dvorak, and many others) that sophisticated and cultivated art music be embraced by and even melded with mainstream music for the masses. Whose responsibility is this ideal? No doubt about that, it is everyone's--composers, performers, teachers, and yes, the audience! The goal is for classical music, and really all music, to be alive and well in the world.

My week

Last week was a tough one and rather complicated by several events. It started last weekend when Joel, who was in a talking mood and sharing many of his thoughts and ideas, began planning his future. He mentioned playing the organ in a church, perhaps going to school, working in a library, and having a family. We have heard these thoughts before and always try to offer support but also try to steer him in positive directions. But as he talked about having a family and wanting 3 children (sometimes it is 6!) he blurted out that he didn't want them to be like him. That his children would be "normal."

We were shocked to hear that sentiment from him and were not sure how to respond. With a typical human response of avoidance, we changed the subject and went on to discuss less potentially excrescent topics such as what was for dinner. But the comment has remained with me all week. In a rare moment of lucidity, Joel expressed a deep fear and self-awareness. I have decided to think more on this problem and be more sensitive to his self-esteem.

The recently announced cuts of various programs around our school--not unusual in today's economy incidentally--did affect people's lives in negative ways. This has made me appreciate the many blessings that I have but has also increased my empathy for the personal insecurity caused by economic hardship. I have found myself in prayer for those without employment and it is my belief that God has a purpose and plan for them.

But not everything has been filled with emotional anguish for I had the great pleasure of conducting a band rehearsal, orchestra rehearsal, and a choir rehearsal--all in one week! What fun I had preparing the music, working with students, improving the sound, the phrase, the balance, the technique, and mostly doing what I absolutely love--making music. My analytical side would like to discuss the differences in the three organizations and make some recommendations on how to approach each one, but my emotional side simply wants to express the pure enjoyment and golden opportunity to direct these three music ensembles.

In addition, my youngest son played a recording of Rachmaninoff's 2nd symphony. As I listened to the remarkably beautiful 3rd movement, I was struck by its exquisite blend of expressive phrasing and dramatic intent. The almost relentless power and beauty of this movement stayed with me throughout this difficult week, causing my respect and admiration for Rachmaninoff's music to increase.

My week ended with a couple of normal concerns about scheduling conflicts. This is really nothing new but I always wish there were more hours in the day and that I could make everyone happy. Sometimes, though, it is just impossible to meet everyone's scheduling needs. I think this is part of what administration is all about. In addition, two students came to me to explain their recent affliction. I suppose the doctor next to my name can be deceiving to some people needing medical attention. After hearing about their disease and momentarily sympathizing, I looked up this terrible problem in the medical dictionary to see if I could recommend an appropriate treatment or at the very least refer the students to a physician. To my shock, there was no mention of this disease in the desk reference and therefore no treatment.

So to the students who come down with this bug they are calling "SENIORITIS", I want to recommend a couple of things: 1) Work harder not less, 2) Apathy is unbecoming to a professional, and 3) A good attitude is the antibiotic that will battle and defeat this particular disease. The prescription is free and available to all!

Congratulations must be extended to Professor Stephen Goacher for the release of his CD called "Leaving a Testimony." Although it may not receive the same national acclaim as winning a national title, it does represent years of hard work on woodwind instruments and a God given opportunity to be shining light for Him. To buy a CD, contact Mr. Goacher at : sgoacher@hputx.edu It is an outstanding CD that I believe everyone will enjoy.

So my week is done and tomorrow starts another one. I think it will be better and I think I will continue to listen to Professor Goacher's CD as well as more Rachmaninoff.

"AIR BALL"

The unifying elements of cultural and sociological phenomena continue to fascinate and bewilder me particularly as they relate to organized sound and specifically music. Having experienced several Lady Jackets basketball games and watching them win each game, eventually going on to win the Division III title, I was struck by the slightly rude, but very entertaining crowd as it collectively disagreed with the referees' calls that went against the home team. The crowd would jump to its feet almost as one and roar its disapproval with a call or in some cases the lack of a certain call!

But the most intriguing event, and one that happened at every game was the group yell, "Air Ball." This was the result of a member of the opposing team shooting the ball, but, alas, the ball would miss the rim, net, and even the backboard, all in all a very sad event for the particular player. The audience, quickly sensing a weak moment, a moment of self-pity by the player, would figuratively pounce, and in one stunning unison begin to chant, "Air Ball, Air Ball, Air Ball."

This great choir of unison melody not only provided a great deal of entertainment for me, it also gave me a sense of wonder at the musical result. Everyone chanted the same notes in the same rhythm with nothing written down to do so. The music was a descending minor third at a tempo of quarter note equaling 72 beats per minute in 4/4 time. How is this possible without printed music and a conductor?

The distance between any two pitches (which are the result of vibration) is called an interval. A very low sound (slow vibrations) followed by a very high sound (fast vibrations) is considered a wide interval. The development of music has codified and systematized intervals into certain nomenclature based on the diatonic Western scale then generalized into what we know as do, re, me, fa, sol, la, ti, do. This means that every melody is actually a series of intervals organized in particular ways.

Keeping that in mind, there is a natural order of learning pitches that occurs in human beings at a young age. Small children gravitate naturally to the descending minor third, later adding an ascending perfect fourth, followed by a descending perfect fifth, and eventually adding a major second. If we apply a system to this order of pitches we get this: sol, mi, la, do, re, often called the 5-tone or pentatonic scale. Children do this naturally in play without the slightest knowledge of the musical implications. They just simply play and sing.

I recall being a young music teacher and hearing the neighborhood children chanting, "Bobby has a sweetheart," and getting so excited that I gathered the children around to tell them they were singing So, mi, la! I remember getting odd stares and subsequently having all the children run away!

In some ways I am not surprised that 2,000 people break into a chant on sol-mi with the words "Air Ball." What does surprise me, and I can't really explain, is how and why all sing the correct pitches in the same rhythm. The only explanation is that humans have a collective desire to rally together doing the same thing in the same way for the same result--irritating the opponent. But, nevertheless, it is a phenomenon and a stunning example of unification without leadership. Actually, the event probably demonstrates as much as anything, the vast fan support of the incredible Lady Jacket basketball team of 2008! Each game and the entire season was a pleasure and a joy that will not be forgotten.

The Church--Pt. III

Now for the difficult part of this series, defining and describing the functions and purposes of the Church amid the complexity of the truth and the relative diversity of the human being. Let's deal with the process of relationship building for a minute.

In open theism, there are theologians who subscribe to the concept of God's being relative, or another angle on this is that because God is love, then God is interested in developing relationships with Him. On the surface, this may sound a tad heretical in that God is certainly omnipotent and unchanging; but on closer examination the concept deals more with God's reaction to man's constant change. The argument, which I believe is a good one, is that God responds to our prayers, our commitment, our actions, and the events which occur in life. Open theism emphasizes the beauty and multifaceted nature of God being love. I find myself leaning toward this theology due to its melding of Calvinism and Arminianism, both of which have influenced my life in a multitude of ways.

To oversimplify is both a dangerous and questionable practice, but for the purposes of this essay is necessary. In Calvinism, there is little to nothing that a human can do to influence or alter God's working in the world. All has been predetermined and all is dependent on God's sovereignty and God's Grace. Calvinism has a clear logic to it that is difficult to refute on academic terms. Whereas in Arminianism, humans make all the decisions and have the free will to choose their own destiny and to determine all the outcomes. It has been said that pastors often study and believe in Calvinism but preach Arminianism to their congregations.

In Open Theism, man's purposeful embracing of God's truth and God's love can and does affect, at least to an extent, how God responds to events on earth. Man is given the free will to develop his or her own relationship with God and God reacts to man's practices, conduct, and events on earth. Perhaps the greatest example of this is the power of prayer. In pure Calvinistic tradition, prayer is valued but does not affect outcomes or God's design. In Arminianism, prayer tends to place all control on the human spirit and the human choice. In Open Theism, prayer can influence or even change God by virtue of its building on a relationship, but only because of God's loving spirit working in the world.

The area of Open Theism that remains in question for me is God's knowledge of the future. Perhaps due to my upbringing, training, or academic logic, I am more comfortable thinking that God has determined all future events and I cannot really affect those results. But I think I will defer conclusion on this abstract concept until such a time as truth reveals itself.

Let us return to the church. A church that subscribes completely to Calvinism has no need for evangelism other than to fulfill God's obligation and scriptural mandate. The could mean that the church spends its energy in study of scripture and in worship with no other purpose than to worship. While there is nothing wrong with this practice necessarily, it does seem to lack in emotional application to God's truth in the world. On the other side of the coin, a church that practices Arminianism tends to rely on its own work ethic and the sheer ability of humans to guide, shape, and form the church in whatever manner it so chooses. While this places much of the responsibility on church members, it also could and rather suspiciously may avoid the central purpose of believers corporately worshiping God.

This means that the church, replete with a myriad amount of personalities, expectations, concepts, and ideas, must come together in prayer, study, and intentional worship of God by unifying its purpose. In doing so, the church exists to create a commonality of learning, applying truth, and worshiping God. This makes the many ministries, events, meetings, classes, services, and fellowships to have a sense of relationship building within a community of believers. In open theistic practice, believers develop their loving relationship with God, thus improving and developing their relationship with each other, for the same goals and purpose, and all done with excellence. But whether you subscribe to Calvinism, Arminianism, or Open Theism, there is no doubt that our honoring, our worshiping, our Christian conduct should be God-centered.

Ultimately, then, our community relationship with God should be a priority and that it be done prestigiously and comprehensively, bringing us back to the act of church and its worship of God the Almighty. Regardless of the diversity of personalities, concepts, interests, education, and, yes, value systems of the individuals, when we come together as one body in church, we do so as a collective dimension of our need and requirement to build our loving relationship with God. How to do so is where it all gets sticky!

The Church--Pt. II

In the first installment of "The Church" I concluded with the idea that the church is primarily for the believer. In many ways this concept is naturally understood, yet for an evangelical Christian, it is a little difficult to accept in its entirety. If the church's prime mission is to evangelize to the non-believer, then it has failed and may continue to fail. When scripture tells us to go into all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost, God was not necessarily telling the church but rather encouraging the people, and I think there is a stunning difference between the church and the people. The church has an institutional obligation and responsibility to the people whereas Christian people have a responsibility to God. This becomes an important distinction later.

It is the very nature of being evangelical that has given wings to Protestant denominations and resulted in a large number of churches throughout our country and particularly in the Southern region. The emphasis on evangelicalism, that is reaching out to share the gospel, encouraging a relationship with Christ, becoming a part of a community, seeking to bring people to salvation, and making a difference individually as well as collectively, has been an invaluable tool to shaping our society and specifically our churches. The very essence, however, of being evangelical, which in and of itself has its roots in scripture and provides core foundations for our essential tenants, also places an added responsibility to the practices of the local church.

Please don't misunderstand. I am not advocating an abolishment of evangelicalism by the churches, for to do so would be to attempt to alter radically the very nature of what it means to be a Baptist church. We learn, we worship, we reach out, we transform ourselves so we can be a part of transforming other people. We are to be a light to the world and work to guide and lead people to discover the truth through Biblical teaching. That is who we are. What I am asking, however, is should our evangelical nature find fruition in the daily practices of the church? Or, instead, should we consider church as a training ground for fellow Christians and a worship center for believers? If so, I believe, this would make the church a less complicated and perhaps more consistent institution.

Every morning, I pray and then exercise. I exercise for many reasons, most of which are selfish. I hope to look a little more fit, I hope to have a little more energy, I hope to be healthier and maybe live longer, and I hope to be a little more effective of a leader of other people. I also read voraciously, drink lots of water, and work diligently to improve myself in some way. It is hoped that my efforts at self-improvement make me a better witness and allow me to reach out to other people in a multitude of ways. If we look at our churches in the same way, the church should be about worshiping, training, and teaching its membership. Adding the complexity of making the church's main purpose to evangelize and to attract non-believers to its walls, adds a great deal of complexity and "stickiness" to its objectives.

So it seems to me that the church's main purpose is to reach out to believers and to teach those believers to in turn reach out to non-believers. If this is true and right, then it stands to reason that activities such as worship, Bible classes, and ministry should be driven primarily by the teachings of Christ. How to formulate the specific details of each leg of the church including worship becomes the central issue facing churches today, and not only is it a central issue, it is also a potentially divisive one. And that is why churches must get its house in order by concentrating on its current membership of believers in order to then accomplish its ultimate evangelical mission.

Unfortunately, this is not a simple endeavor for any church, and involves the seeking after Biblical truth as well as an awareness of people and their needs. We will address the myriad facets of human personality and how that relates to worship later. For now, I continue to posture that while a church must train its members for evangelism, its prime directive should be to provide Biblically based experiences for the believer.

The Church--Pt. I

I feel compelled to join the bandwagon of bloggers currently writing on the church, its role, its purpose, its past, and its future. I don't expect to add much new to the wealth of great writings that exist currently and historically, but at the same time, writing helps formulate and clarify my own thoughts on this complex, yet glorious institution--The Church.

Yesterday, as I was making my 2nd of 4 trips from our place to town and back (see earlier blog), I stopped at a traffic light of a busy intersection and heard someone yelling. I looked over to see a handsome fellow in a white shirt, tie, pressed jeans, boots, and Cowboy hat, holding a Bible, and pacing back and forth. He had a pleasant but intense look on his face, appeared to be in good health, and quite confident in himself.

He was using his full voice and zealously insisting that "Mohammed is dead. Joseph Smith is dead. Jesus Christ is alive." He would occasionally quote scripture and remind those sitting at the traffic light that the Bible was the word of God. At first I was put off and assumed the man was looking for a handout. But on closer examination, I decided he was honestly attempting to get the message across to those who could hear. As he yelled, I found myself looking at the other drivers, some older, most younger, wondering if they also were somewhat uncomfortable with this experience; and as I glanced around, I had the distinct impression they were not sure how to respond to this yelling stranger on the street corner. Most people seemed almost too frightened to even glance his way and his message, although nothing new, was a little too direct for the average person.

In my typical manner, I began to analyze this unusual situation and came to several conclusions. One, it is this man's right and privilege to express himself as he sees fit. He was hurting nobody, taking up little space, not electronically amplifying his words, nor using any kind of special physical tactics of any kind in his delivery system. He was not indecent, profane, frightening, ugly, or infringing on my rights in any way other than being loud. I was not forced to look at him nor to even listen to him, and if I chose, I could easily have made my radio louder than his voice. He was simply a man committed to sharing his view of the truth and hoping to make some kind of difference in the beliefs of others.

Two, he was not worshiping God, he was not interested in surrounding himself with others of like views, and he was not seeking solace, comfort, answers to a problem, or deep Biblical exegetical study. He was doing what he felt was his responsibility to share the truth and to evangelize the Gospel. Three, I do not know whether he was effective, but I do know that I spent the rest of the day thinking about what he said. I was totally comfortable with a literal interpretation of his words, but maybe less comfortable with the implications although I certainly do subscribe to the basic tenants of his message. Mohamed, the person, is no longer alive. Joseph Smith, the person, is no longer alive. But Jesus Christ rose from the dead and ascended into heaven according to scripture. Of course, these statements are certainly not without their potentially explosive possibilities; but taken literally, and with strong Christian faith, they are simply expressions of truth and belief.

Maybe the exclusionary overtones of this lack of tolerance of other views bothered me a touch or maybe the almost extreme insistence of these views left me a shade unsettled. Or maybe the fact that one either agrees completely with his implications or disagrees completely, left me wishing for less polarity and dichotomy in his content. This may be a character trait since I am drawn more toward dialectic examination of complex issues, rather emotionally-based platitudes of generalized conclusions.

Of course there is also the possibility that nobody was affected by his revelations and in fact his mode of delivery was exclusionary and did not help his cause in any sense. If this is true, then his time and energy were wasted, and all efforts were in vain in which case a less aggressive approach to expressing oneself and making a difference becomes paramount to the end. Yet I cannot determine how effective was his delivery system. This I do know, the message is readily available but is only heard by those receptive to hear it (notice I am avoiding the discussion of Arminianism versus Calvinism which would be counterproductive to my purpose for writing).

But whether one believes the message or not, here is my conclusion of our friend's evangelism technique. I contend his method, while unorthodox and independent, is perhaps more effective in reaching people who do not know the basic teachings of the Gospel, than are the churches with their worship services on Sundays. For his message finds the people where they are, shakes them up a bit, and leaves them thinking. A church service could accomplish the same result but only if those same people were in attendance. This could mean, then, that a church's purpose is not necessarily for the non-believer, but in fact, is there to serve the needs of the believer.

Robert E. Lee Holden

My uncle, Dr. Robert Lee Holden, passed away recently in a nursing home in San Angelo, TX at the age of 77. He was my father's sister's husband and good friend to my Dad. He had served in the military, taught public school, and had spent most of his career as a college professor of education at Angelo State University. I was named after him.

Apparently, my mother not wanting to have "family" names, as opposed to my Dad who was committed to naming me after a family member, was caught unaware of the fact I was named after my uncle until it was too late! Little Robert Lee Tucker entered the world in 1960 named after his Uncle, an Uncle who married my Aunt Patsy at a fairly young age and remained successfully married for 59 years! But I recently discovered more to the story of my uncle's name for, much to my surprise, Dr. Holden informed me about two months before his passing that he was actually named after the great Southern general Robert E. Lee. While I have been asked many times if I were named after Robert E. Lee, I readily denied such a connection since, to my knowledge, none existed.

Dr. Holden, Bob as we affectionately called him, was in fact originally named Robert E. Lee Holden which is what it states on his birth certificate. The E. is not spelled out at all making it not representative of anything more than a letter. This apparently created a problem for Bob as a young enlistee. His officers kept demanding that he tell them what the E stood for in his name. He kept insisting that it stood for nothing more than a letter. Finally, in frustration at the constant harassment, he elected to drop the E from his nomenclature and subsequent correspondence. The result was that nobody question the E any longer and few people associated the famed general with Dr. Holden.

Yet, there is no denying or revising history. I was named after my Uncle who was named after Southern General Robert E. Lee, son of Revolutionary war hero General Henry "Light Horse" Lee. Whether the E is dropped from his name or not does not change his roots and, although somewhat superfluous, may indeed inadvertently contribute to one's own leadership qualities or at least tenacity for a cause. In the case of Robert E. Lee, although his position may in retrospect have been a touch misguided, he was indeed a remarkable leader with great courage, fortitude, and wisdom. For my Uncle, Dr. Robert E. Lee Holden, as a public school teacher and eventually college professor, his leadership was demonstrated in the classroom. For me, named after my uncle who was named after the General, I feel a sense of legacy pervading my thoughts and actions. It is hoped I continue to represent leadership qualities in the classroom, in college administration, in music performances, and in my Christian walk.

An Effort Unrewarded? Maybe Not!

My story begins on a Saturday morning as I was delivering 4 bales of hay to my 2 donkeys, 2 llamas, and 2 goats. I drove my pickup down to the gate and unloaded the hay only to see the horrifying sight that was to occupy my attention for the next several hours. The bigger of the 2 llamas had barbed wire wrapped around her stomach and her legs.

I quickly grabbed my wire cutters that I keep close for those times a goat gets stuck in the fence near a post and requires some cutting to get free, and reached out for the llama, grabbing the barbed wire and hoping to get a chance to snip some of it. Unfortunately, my quick reaction caused her to jump and bolt away. I chased her to no avail and realized I needed some rope, bigger wire cutters, and some help.

I jumped in the pickup, called my oldest son to come help, and headed to my 2nd feed and agriculture store for the day. I purchased bigger bolt cutters, some rope, and some sweet feed that I hoped would be enticing for the llama. As I drove, I wondered why the llama didn't know that I was simply trying to help, not hurt. I also found myself swearing at the fence builders for leaving loose strands of barbed wire lying around.

Upon my return, my son and I chased the llama around the field, no easy task considering the amount of cactus and mesquite that pervades our "ranch," trying to get a rope around her neck so that we could keep her still long enough to remove the barbed wire. But our efforts were in vain. He did point out that she didn't seem to be in pain. I wondered about that, however, since my experience with animals has been that their faces do not seem to register emotions. This has actually bothered me for several years and I would like to analyze this fact at some point. Nevertheless, whether she was in pain or not, I felt oddly responsible to at least remove the barbed wire from around her body.

I knew I needed some panels, so I made my 3rd trip to town to yet another store to purchase some corral panels needed to "capture" my elusive friend. I bought two panels thinking I could use the current gate as one of the ends of my little make shift corral. My thoughts on this 3rd trip were more utilitarian and less philosophical as I envisioned capturing the llama and fixing the problem. Arriving back home, I lifted the panels out of the pickup and placed them in position only to recognize my plan was not going to work without another panel. 

On the way to town to buy another panel, I reflected on how I was making my 4th trip for the day to help the animals. For not the 100th time, I wondered about my competence in raising farm animals especially considering the time and money spent for little to no gain. Yet, I knew without a doubt that I would not quit this particular objective to rid that poor animal of the chains that enslaved her through no fault of her own. As I made that commitment, I also began to reflect on how many times we are enslaved by bonds that do not allow us to reach our full potential as people. We are often restricted by a multitude of sources both immediate and far-reaching. In fact, it is of supreme value to operate within the confines that surround you but to be successful in spite of and maybe because of those very barriers. Such is life!

I returned to the "ranch" and set up the 3rd panel, got the family out to help me, and anxiously awaited the moment when the llama would walk into my ingenious structure, and I would then fix this problem. But she remained outside the walls and all our efforts at encouragement only resulted in her moving away from us. My frustration at this problem was reaching epic proportions and I wondered how my blood pressure was going to handle this when I glanced near the llama and saw something on the ground. I walked over to it only to find the entire strand of barbed wire had unwrapped itself and fallen off!

The goal, to remove the barbed wire, was met, but my efforts had not contributed to the goal. 4 trips to town, lots of money, lots of stress, concern, fear, anger, and frustration had all amounted to nothing. Yet the goal had been met. I think there is a lesson in here somewhere but I don't know where. Do you?

If you know the lesson, please share it with me!

Why Can't He Sing?

Having grown up in a family of singers, I unfortunately was not blessed with a beautiful voice; yet I was blessed, if one can call it a blessing, to have a great zeal and love of singing along with a general love of music. My somewhat nasal sounding, rattly voice does not deter me from frequently applying my love of music and the "natural" instrument God has given me to a multitude of circumstances, including but not limited to, showers, driving, walking, shopping, and maybe thinking out loud (much to the chagrin of my friends.) But the question on the table today is not about me but rather about Joel, our 18 year old autistic son.

He has never sung a note. He loves music and discusses it frequently (I smile as I think about this morning when he said, "How about 'I'd Do Anything'?" Not understanding his question at first, I remembered discussion in the car the day before when we were trying to decide the best song from the musical "Oliver!") and with great interest. He has a special love for organ music and hymns but also gravitates to marches played by a band. A musical highlight for Joel is getting to hear a march played on the organ. With his enjoyment of organ music, comes frequent practicing on the organ and the piano with most of the music being hymns of various types and in various keys.

So why doesn't he sing? Is it due to a fear of failure or does he actually lack the ability to sing? I have heard a few people who could not seem to match pitch, which implies a judgment on my part, but I do not think I have encountered someone who simply cannot do it. Obviously, a person without the ability to speak would also lack the ability to sing. But this also brings to mind the odd cases of people who stutter when they speak but can sing without hesitation (Mel Tillis, and Carly Simon to name two). Yet, those people and there are many, can and do sing with success and more importantly, enjoyment. The obvious answer to this mystery is that singing requires a slightly different part of the brain than speaking. But is it really that simple?

There has been much research relating psychology and singing that reference the benefits of singing for mental health, for physiological gain, and for general peace and welfare of the individual countenance, and I find this to be generally true for most people. Singing is a creative venture that requires memory, expression, emotional cognition, depth of thought, a sensitive awareness of the environment, and sense of goal-direction and purpose. We sing as an expression of our feelings, our deepest thoughts, our emotions, as a way to put shape and form to our joys and fears, our optimism and our sorrows. Singing does all that and more. But, coincidentally and unfortunately, the act of singing uses all the faculties that are missing or weakened in autism--a disability that tends to affect the ability for creative expression of emotions.

So Joel does feel what we feel and experience what we experience, but when he tries to express those events in an emotional way, he gets blocked by the weakness in the central nervous system, that area of the brain that allows and encourages the outer expression of feelings. He cannot sing because he cannot demonstrate his deepest emotions. Are they in him? Yes, without a doubt. He cares, he fears, he loves, he worries, he reaches out, and he is comfortable in his skin. But he cannot sing and while it is hard to understand, it is simply a characteristic that makes him who he is--Joel Tucker.

Curiosity Doesn't Kill the Cat

As a curious child, a child who tended to get into things, a child who questioned why things were the way they were, a child who wondered about people, places, sounds, words, and virtually everything within the sense realm and even the abstract imaginary world, I recall hearing the words from teachers and well-meaning friends, "Be careful, curiosity killed the cat." Ironically, I don't believe those words came from my parents who encouraged independent but respectful character and fostered and gave impetus to a healthy examination of a variety of experiences. The admonition may have come from others whose caution overruled their curiosity.

But it was this curiosity and tendency to go my own way, that shaped me into being a person with a plethora of interests, a child-like eagerness, and a desperate need to know more, a risk-taker, and a preference for the road less-traveled. It makes me both exhilarated and saddened to know that I have never been quite sure what I wanted to be when I grow up. It is a type of Attention Deficit Disorder that luckily manifests itself primarily in the arts, specifically in music, and is seen in eclecticism difficult to describe but certainly fun to embrace.

I remember as a child relishing those strange days when Dad would say "Let's go for a drive" and we would jump in the latest vehicle acquisition, perhaps a station wagon, or a sedan, or a little Volkswagon, and head out to the desert. At first we covered the paved roads seeing the same sights as everyone, but soon he would see a dirt road and his eyes would light up with curiosity, and we would find ourselves bouncing along wondering what we would find. Perhaps a gold mine or a tunnel or a den of rabbits or a secret society or discover the real meaning of life. Unfortunately, we would inevitably get stuck in the dirt and begin the arduous process of digging our way out which in and of itself was an adventure.

Occasionally, we would come across small treasures such as old books or lamps discarded along the sides of the dirt road. If we saw an abandoned building, it was a chance to stop and go look and to create a hypothetical scenario of who had lived there and why they left their humble (usually very humble) abode. More often than not, however, we would venture down the road only to find a dead end or another road that would circle back to our original spot causing us to continue on the quest for another path not yet explored. Our adventure was usually nothing more than a road trip for no purpose and with no result.

Except the result for me was the instilling of curiosity and a quest for what magic, what joy, what adventure might lie ahead. On these outings we often asked unanswerable questions and wondered about things of which there was no definite conclusion. Dad would teach us about the world and press us to ask questions about any subject in our thoughts. We discussed religion, politics, nature, music, books, people, places, smells, sights, and each other. These little trips were not about the trip but rather about growth, learning, seeking, and finding.

Many years later, as I think back I realize several things: yes, no doubt, there is danger in too much risk taking, and certain activities hold little appeal to me such as skydiving or rounding up rattlesnakes; but academically and musically (not that the two are exclusive of each other) my quest for adventure continues at a fast pace. Sometimes the ride is bumpy and sometimes it is a dead-end. Sometimes the treasure I find is minimal and sometimes I get stuck. Usually the adventure returns me to whence I first started and the adventure was not much of adventure. But the constant quest for new knowledge, for new sounds, for rich experiences, for explanations, for enjoyment, for sights not seen, and for views not heard, is all part of the adventure and the result of curiosity.

Tempered with wisdom and common sense, laced with integrity, morality, compassion, and education, curiosity will not kill the cat, but it could get the cat in trouble now and then! What it does give the cat is a broad look at life and an insatiable desire to know more (of course, that is assuming the cat's curiosity is governed by more than his stomach!). Yet, I think I will continue to tread the dirt roads, look at the abandoned buildings, ask the hard questions, and learn more what the world has to offer.

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.

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!

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.

Free Frenzy

The line extended down the hall and was growing quickly with many people holding a ticket to receive their free item. There was an animated conversational energy resulting from the recent experience and the anticipation of the upcoming reward combined together with a tinge of anxiety that there could be a limited supply of the gift. Heads far back down the line would rise up and lean forward or move side to side, craning to see how the line was doing, hoping to catch a glimpse of the arrival of more gifts. Foremost in everyone's mind, "I can't wait to receive something for nothing." Soon the fear was alleviated for down the other end of the hall, a worker in uniform came hurrying with a large box full of the free things for the well-deserving lot. A large sigh of relief and pleasure emitted from the growing line of people at the sight of the box filled with gifts for all with a ticket. It was a great moment.

I brought my family to the Gaylord Texan motel in Grapevine for a brief respite from the normal activities of home. It is a magnificent motel replete with Christmas decorations, restaurants, coffee shops, entertainment, shopping, swimming, exercise, and many other sundry experiences for all ages. While a bit costly for our budget, it was nice to be pampered and to experience the pleasures and glitz of a nice hotel. As we drove into the garage (no, we did not pay extra for valet parking), I noticed many expensive and new automobiles. Checking in, I looked around to see leather briefcases, $1000 suits, expensive dresses, polished pricey shoes, and sensed a typical confidence and air often found in people to whom money is not an object. People who do not necessarily worry from paycheck to paycheck and who do not hesitate to spend $30-$50 for a meal. I felt myself not fitting in with the crowd!

Included among the many great qualities in the Gaylord Texan is the ICE exhibit, a large frozen world of aesthetically pleasing, stunning ice sculptures and ice events for everyone. For a minimal cost of $20 per adult, which included warm coverings for the 9 degree climate, we were treated to an incredible and beautiful, artistic world of ice. Afterward, we were each given a small card to redeem for our free gift for visiting the ICE world. So, like the others, we stood in line, in a near frenzy to turn in our card and be handed our free gift. It reminded me of those times at a football game when our team would score, and we would jump to our feet desperate to catch the little white plastic football thrown to the crowd by the cheerleaders; we were willing to risk life and limb to get that little ball. And so we stood in line for the free gift, and it was great.

So great, that I noticed several people drop their's in the trash, and my gift is still sitting in our room unopened. I asked several people I did not know why they were excited about the gift. Some weren't sure, some said they liked this particular item, and one person was honest and said, "It is just fun to get something for free, no matter what it is."

Actually, I do like gingerbread cookies and this one is good. It is especially good that I received it for free. Now it is time to check out of our room and finish paying $225 for the room, $10 for parking, $20 each for the ICE, and $61 for our dinner last night. I am so glad to have the gingerbread cookie for free!

Short story--The White Horse

The magnificent white horse stood atop the hill, a hill normally filled with sunflowers, berries, grass, and pecan tree saplings looking forward to future growth, but which today was barren due to having been subjected to difficult wintry conditions, and thought about his role in the world. He had no name for none was needed, no family for all were his family, no past and no future; he represented the moment as well as a lifetime of accomplishments and contributions, and he rarely thought of himself but rather considered his purpose to be entirely selfless as he traveled quickly and magically across the country seeking an opportunity for yet another change.

His character and personality were warm without excess, charming yet distant, compassionate without being contrived, positive but not unrealistically polished, energetic but calm, confident without arrogance, and mostly containing leadership qualities born of natural gifts rather than prescribed expectations. He was the perfect horse, the every-horse that all aspired to be, the stylized manifestation of everything right and good in the horse kingdom, he with his tall, muscular frame, long torso, and aesthetically appealing visual sensations. His was a comfortable existence due to his natural charisma, appearance, and mostly his remarkable leadership abilities, for all the other horses would follow him, listen to him, and trust him explicitly. Since being a leader of horses had very few requirements, he could spend most of his day standing on the hill, looking over his herd, and basking in his world of horse glory.

Such a naturally gifted leader would usually fall into a pattern of vanity whose actions would be self-serving without the risk of any kind of negative appearance in any sense; a leader who would be lacking in depth, a leader with little true leadership actions, replaced by superficial arrogance, and rooted in gross insecurities. But for the white horse, such an inane, useless practice and lifestyle were not within his character. Instead, he found himself avoiding the typical pomp, imitation, and outward glow that usually accompany such natural qualities, and preferred introspection and perception of the world, with a startling radar for finding goodness in others. He could stand on his hill, look out on the world, and see within the inner soul of other beings, and not just the inner being but, in fact, was able to block out and mentally eradicate any sign of corruption that existed on the peripherals.

And it became inevitable that the white horse, with his unusual ability to perceive strong personal character, became somewhat anxious to act on his sensitivities and to create, not simply prevent or stop a particular action, but rather to form a world that enabled all good things to come to pass. His ability to see and to know only goodness led him to reject the possibility of anything else to participate in his world, his perfectly designed world of excellence and moral rectitude, a world with a compass that disallowed any ethos not directly beneficial.

The anxiety and purpose that began to infiltrate his every thought process resulted in a magical ability to see through a portal into the world with a perceptive clarity that could not hide the truth of the hearts of the animals thus presented. Within moments that felt like seconds but which time could not define, the magnificent white horse landed in the midst of a world of wild dogs busy planning their next foray into rabbit kingdom where they could wreak havoc and have dinner. While the great horse respected the natural ecosystem of the world in some ways, in other ways he wanted good to triumph over evil regardless of the inclination of the perpetrators. Wondering the best way to accomplish the most good, and trying to decide whether to destroy the wild dogs, or to lift the rabbits out of danger, he elected instead to change the hearts of the dogs and create a small but Utopian world of mutual cooperation between the entities involved.

As the dogs viciously attacked the rabbit kingdom and the horrific assault began, our white horse brought the dogs to a standstill with a strong command and maybe a life-altering emotional education that could not be seen but was felt by every dog. So the dogs abruptly changed their purpose and elected to work with the rabbits rather than eat them. It was a strange occurrence and one that dissolved the hate and emphasized the love and was not necessarily a technique the horse used in all situations, but in this particular case, it was effective, and caused the result intended.

Our magnificent white horse left the world, went through the portal, and returned to his post to give more thought to how to use his powers of perception and change. He stood on the hill and felt both burdened and liberated by his character and his gifts, recognizing that with such abilities, came the need for more wisdom. For as the great book says, "To Whom Much is Given, Much is Required."

Christmas Blues

I have been feeling a little blue as this Christmas season progresses, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it is the stress of getting presents for all my family members. Or maybe it is the general busyness that accompanies the life of a musician at this time of year. Or perhaps the blues are a reaction to the constant red and green that seems to permeate the clothes, decorations, cards, ornaments, and even the cars. It seems that every time I look somewhere I see green and red. The other night, as I walked into a theater to experience an enjoyable evening of Christmas Gospel music, I felt accosted by the color red and the shining festive glitter that emanated from the people in the audience and extended to the poinsettias on the stage. It was just too much for my brain, and I felt that odd but recurring desire to escape into a world of books and thinking where colors do not seem to matter. Yet, at the same time, it was an overtly fun concert, well performed, thrilling, warm, and entertaining, the perfect event for this time of year.

So why am I a little down? Is it due to some kind of insecurity on my part? Maybe it is the fear of tomorrow that seeps into my thought process--fear of failure, fear of success, fear of Joel's future, and for that matter all my children's futures; not really fear, more like curiosity or anticipation maybe. Perhaps my blues are caused from the simple concern of getting everything done or leaving something out. What if I forget a friend or a family member or get the wrong gift or spend too much on one person and not enough on another? Or run out of money before buying presents for everyone. Or the fear that my truck with high mileage decides to hang it up. Or maybe I have the blues because I am worrying about little things and in the deep recesses of my mind, I realize how silly it is to be concerned over things that don't really matter.

Or maybe it is the sense that we are somehow missing the boat in all this Christmas stuff. While it is a little cliched to attack the glitz and glitter and excessive materialism of this time of year, it is difficult not to do so, for in truth, Christmas should be about celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ and honoring the life of the greatest man to ever walk the earth, a man born of a virgin, a man who spent 30 years preparing for an incredible 3 year ministry, and a man who gave of himself so others may live. A man who changed the world and continues to have vast influence over our lives individually and collectively. The son of God, the Lord of my life.

There is nothing wrong with celebrating and I enjoy it as much as anyone. To celebrate can mean many things from loud music, to dancing, to general festivities, to food and candy, concerts, excitement, joy, affirmation, sharing, and most of all, openly expressing happiness in a multitude of ways. This year, however, I seem to have a monastic desire, almost a requirement, to celebrate quietly in a tranquil setting that seeks to calm the fears, quell the anxiety, envelope the inner senses, feed the soul, and reject the vain shallowness that pervades our cosmetic culture and desultory delusions. But, you know what? It is not that simple, for I really do not want to escape that which is the core of my world. My computer, my cell phone, my family, my music, my things, my talents, my friends. All shape me into who I am, for I like my shallow life, and, conversely, I like my profound life. I like the journey of existence that takes me from materialism to spiritualism, from the concrete to the abstract, the known and obvious to the unknown and subtle. All are important, and all provide sustenance for our Christmas experience. Ironically, being selfish can provide the means to becoming selfless, which ultimately could be what Christmas is all about.

So I conclude this odd essay ambiguously by encouraging our holiday time to be an acceptance of festivities, the color red, expressive joy, excessive spending, sharing, wrapping, shopping, dancing (figuratively of course since dancing is not a personal gift) and singing. But, no doubt, I also will find the time to meditate, to supplicate, to pray in abject humility, and to dedicate myself to inner peace and soul serenity, free of the cacophonous discord that seems to balance precariously on the precipice of an emotional abyss, that either sends a person on a free fall with no end, or supplies the foundational fortitude necessary for success at any time of the year.

Christmas--buy your presents, receive your gifts, celebrate loudly and have fun, but do not forget to take a moment or two for reflection of the depth of Christ, His life, His sacrifice, His teachings, and His purpose. Coincidentally, as I write this entry, I feel lifted out of the blues and into the reds! Time to be happy.

Then and Now--1970 and 2007

The crowd roared as I was fouled again and stepped up to the line for my 12th free throw attempt of the game. Except for the first attempt, I had not missed and was about to hit my 11th and 12th in a row, much to the chagrin of the other team and to the delight of my many fans cheering loudly for my success. I was a good player and found success at the free throw line. I went home after the game feeling refreshed and happy, and awoke the next day anxiously awaiting recess and an after school practice game.

Rarely are fouls called and there is no free throw shooting. Most of the playing is geared toward managing to stay on your feet from the body smashes as you make a poor attempt to drive toward the goal, or to prevent the other guy from scoring. It is brutal under the boards and not for the faint of heart (although fainting does seem like a viable option at times!). I go home totally exhausted, and the next day brings with it aches and soreness in virtually every muscle and joint identifiable, and some that did not previously exist.

The constant affirmation built confidence, and I felt myself bursting with pride with the high fives and the encouragement from the coach and the other players. Mistakes were overlooked and the slightest good was elevated to heroic status. Even the other team members would shake your hand at the end of the game. How you played the game was more important than the final result. Your effort was rewarded with "good hustle" or "way to go."

There is no affirmation, only criticism. The slightest moment of pride is quickly and aggressively destroyed by college students intent on making the old men look bad. Only a final victory is respected and nobody cares how you just played. The goal is to win. Granted, the college students have a different purpose from the college professors whose primary desire is to have fun and get some exercise. Still, testosterone pressure inevitably sets in and winning becomes the secret desire in the end. Your effort only means something to you, nobody else cares.

If you get hurt, there is someone near to help you, a coach, mom and dad, another parent, a teammate, or a friend. There seems to be an unlimited supply of bandaids, hugs, ice, and TLC for every challenge encountered. Of course, we all had knee pads, elbow pads, and wrist bands which not only protected our bodies but were quite fashionable and necessary for personal success. Our clothes were clean, shiny, and our shoes were all white.

You are not permitted to get hurt or to show pain. If you fall, get up. Nobody will help you. If you can't play anymore, get off the court, someone wants your spot. Stop sniveling and play. Wear what you want to wear, but no pads allowed. Fashion means nothing. Of course, in my case, I wear an old, faded Dennis Rodman jersy. It is to send a message that I am a rebounder, unfortunately not a good one, unlike the real Rodman. No, before you ask, I am not covered in tattoos, nor am I interested in riding a motorcycle wearing nothing but my birthday suit.

We extolled the virtues of Jerry West, Pete Maravich, Wilt Chamberlain, Lew Alcindor (soon to become Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and Oscar Robertson. Of course, being from El Paso, the name Nate Archibald was on every tongue, and the Harlem Globetrotters were without question the greatest players on the planet. We argued in practice and didn't always like each other, but Dad was always around to offer some valued wisdom after practice, wisdom and an arm around the shoulder fixed all problems.

The college professors are past the hero worship stage and are painfully, or maybe joyfully, aware that their career path is not basketball, but the college students seem to have a kind of latent inner desire to be picked up by the Spurs or the Mavericks. We occasionally argue, and nobody offers any wisdom, but when the game is over, our natural maturity takes over and we leave our problems on the court--okay, for the most part anyway.

After basketball season, we got out our baseball gloves, found the balls, asked Dad to play catch and started getting ready for baseball season. We bought some new cleats (before you could screw them on and off), we asked for a new glove and a new bat (before there were $200 bats), and began to extol the virtues of Johnny Bench, Willie Mays, Al Kaline, and Tom Seaver.

We play basketball all year when we can get away from the office. The college students play all year and hope no teachers show up. If teachers do come, the students give each other the glance that says, "Now is our chance, let's get the old guys." We, the teachers, show up anyway and play hard until we cannot move, then we return to our offices in misery. We remind ourselves that it is good for us to get some exercise, and we know we will return for more punishment. In truth, I am a less than average player and rarely score. I give up points, lose the ball, get confused, worn out, and having little to no ability, nobody wastes the effort to cover me. Yet, I love the game and enjoy the opportunity. It would be nice to be 10 years old again, but 47 isn't too bad either!

Typical Conversation

Dad: Hey Jordan, Porgy and Bess will be at Fair Park in Dallas at the end of February. Do you want to go?
Jordan: Sounds good to me.
Joel: What?
Dad: Porgy and Bess will be at Fair Park in Dallas. Are you interested in going also?
Joel: Maybe. Will there be an orchestra?
Dad: Yes
Joel: Will it be big?
Dad: I think so.
Joel: Will there be flutes?
Dad: Yes.
Joel: Clarinets?
Dad: Yes.
Joel: Oboes?
Dad: Yes.
Joel: Bassoons?
Dad: Yes.
Joel: Saxophones?
Dad: Not sure, but I think so.
Joel: Drums?
Dad: Yes.
Joel: Trumpets and Trombones?
Dad: Yes.
Joel: French Horns?
Dad: Yes.
Joel: Tubas?
Dad: Yes.
Joel: Violins and Violas and Cellos and the big, gigantic bass?
Dad: Yes, lots of instruments.
Joel: Will there be an organ?
Dad: I doubt it.
Joel: How come?
Dad: Usually there is not an organ in an orchestra playing for a show, but I am not sure about this one.
Joel: What about a piano?
Dad: Maybe so.
Joel: Oh, good.
(a moment of silence)
Joel: Will there be a tenor?
Dad: Yes, lots of singers.
Mom: Joel, it is an opera. Of course there will be tenors.
Joel: Lots of tenors?
Dad: Well, I think so.
Joel: How many tenors?
Dad: I don't know.
Joel: Probably, like about 6 or 8 or 10 tenors or 20 tenors.
Dad: Probably not that many.
Joel: A baritone?
Dad: Yes.
Joel: A soprano?
Dad: Yes. Probably a choir too.
Joel: A big choir with lots of people?
Dad: Maybe, but not too big since there is a stage.
Joel: How big is the choir?
Dad: Not sure, but it will be good.
Joel: How many are in the choir?
Dad: I really am not sure.
Joel: Who will be singing?
Dad: Not sure, but most of them will be of African-American descent like Gershwin intended.
(more silence)
Joel: How far away is it? Can we stay in a motel?
Dad: About 3 hours but we will probably not stay in a motel.
Joel: I like motels with pools. Indoor pools.
Dad: I know but they cost money and it will be enough just to pay for the show.
Joel: How much?
Dad: I am not sure yet.
Joel: About, like, $5.00?
Dad: More like $50 or $75 probably.
Joel: Oh. I have $50 but I want to buy a pin-stripe suit. Where will we eat?
Dad: Joel, I just don't know. It is not happening for several months and we don't usually plan our eating places that far in advance.
Joel: Can we eat Mexican food?
Dad: Maybe so.
Joel: With lots of chips and tacos and enchiladas and hot sauce?
Dad: Probably but let's don't think about that right now.
Joel: Okay. What time will we leave?
Dad: Maybe 3 or so.
Joel: What should I wear?
Dad: Well, I guess nice clothes but you don't need to worry about that right now.
Joel: Can I wear a tie?
Dad: Yes.
Joel: Should I wear a sweater or maybe a black shirt and tie?
Dad: Yes, but since it is a long time, let's don't talk about that.
(long silence)
Joel: Are there lots of songs?
Dad: Yes, like "Bess You Is My Woman Now" and "Summertime" and "I Got Plenty of Nothin"
Joel: Those are good songs.
Dad: Great songs.
Joel: Great songs. But I might not go.
Dad: (after thinking about that) Well, we'll talk more about it later.
Joel: But I might go.
Dad: Okay.
Joel: But I might stay home and eat Mexican food.
Dad: Maybe that is best.
Joel: But I want to see the orchestra.
Dad: Joel, let's talk more about this later. Right now it is time to eat.
Joel: Okay.

Thus is a typical conversation with our 18 year old autistic son, Joel!

Whirlwind of Wonder

It was a thrilling evening in all respects. Jacob and I jumped in the car on Wednesday afternoon and headed to the Metroplex for the Stevie Wonder concert. On the way, we stopped for a delicious dinner of shrimp and steak, followed by a few minutes at a men's clothing store, and finally made our way to the theater for the concert. We hurried to our seats to await the entrance of the immensely talented musician, Stevie Wonder. When he came on stage, rather he was led onto the stage due to being blind since birth, I felt myself in awe at a 57 year old man whose career has spanned decades and generations. Beginning as a youth in 1963, with his first hit, Fingertips (Pt. 2), and having his first greatest hits album in 1967 at the age of 17, Stevie has had an enviable career due to several characteristics not found in many pop music artists.

One of the most striking elements of Stevie's music, and meets my own criterion for musical excellence, is his harmonic invention. His music, like most pop music, emphasizes the I, IV, and V chords, but unlike other popular music, he feels free to alter that system at will by adding to the chords, changing their texture, and moving freely away from the expected progression by shifting to exotic scales, modal inflection, and diminished passing chords. In other words, his music stays alive and fresh due to his harmonic creativity, balance of chords, and musical perspicacity.

Another trait of Stevie's music is melodic unpredictability and wide tessitura of vocal range. His use of melismas and ability to cover a wide range in a short time make his music difficult to perform even for the most advanced singer. Large leaps, falsetto interjections, and extended vowel sounds are juxtaposed with quick and complex articulations of words and sounds sometimes requiring a delivery that seems almost impossible. In addition, Stevie will often ornament his melodies with arpeggios, appogiaturas, escape tones, and grace notes that add great depth to the music but once again demand great flexibility from the singer.

His musical skills include high level harmonica playing with a unique and individual style, piano and keyboard playing again at a high level, syncopated jazz/rock rhythms, and an incorporation of electronic sounds including a synthesizer and a voice box. Stevie's odd blend of rock and jazz including blues, ragtime, folk, and ethnic music has allowed his music to transcend cultural implications and move through and beyond the dated sounds of each generation. During the 1960s, his sound was distinctly representative of the time; during the 1970s, again his music was characteristic of the time; on into the 80s, 90s, and finally the 21st century, Stevie Wonder continues to alter his approach to music giving him a sense of timelessness and appropriateness for all ages.

Unlike many popular musicians who rely on someone else to write their music, Stevie has written and performed most but not all of his most well-known works, and he continues to generate original compositions at a prolific rate. Comfortable in a large band setting or alone at the piano, Stevie Wonder seems adept at an incredible variety of styles and genres. This particular concert demonstrated a remarkable blend of old and new, fast and slow, complex and simple but all done tastefully, artistically, and mostly musically. The evening progressed quickly and I did not want it to end. Songs like Sir Duke, You and I, Ribbon in the Sky, Blowin' in the Wind, My Cherie Amour, You Are the Sunshine of My Life, Superstition, I Wish, Livin' for the City, Signed Sealed Delivered, As, and many others thrilled the audience of over 5,000 of all ages. While I enjoyed every minute of the experience of seeing and hearing Stevie Wonder, there is no doubt that the concert was topped by the opportunity to spend time with my oldest son Jacob who enjoyed it as much as I did.

Musicals

Like many people I know, I love musicals. Yes, it is true that in many ways they are unrealistic. People on dates do not break into song accompanied by a full orchestra, and I have yet to be in a library where dancing occurred on the tables, or seen gangsters doing ballet on the streets, or witnessed a forgotten world that only shows itself once a day every hundred years, or experienced a group of people floating up from unbridled laughter and happiness. And yet, while none of these events are a normal part of everyday life, at the same time, a musical can lift us beyond the drudgery, the mundane, the inane, and the malicious malapropisms that seem to occupy most of our attention.

A good musical reaches into our emotional wing, our sensitivities, our heart and soul and takes us into a new territory we often cannot seem to find on a daily basis. In school we emphasize the attainment of cognitive facts, application of logic, intellectual development, passing standardized exams, scientific data, knowledge, truth, awareness, mechanics, reasoning, understanding, and comprehension. All these things are important and without them, we would not have the great musicals that we can all enjoy. Our enjoyment is dependent on the skill and knowledge of someone else who wrote the story, acted the part, wrote the music, created the film, produced the work, designed the stage, dealt with the lighting, sound, and the endless vicissitudes of events that go into making a musical.

But in the end, we can simply bask in the pleasure of all this work and sit back and enjoy a musical in all its magnificence and glory. Although I could change my mind at some point, I believe that West Side Story is the greatest musical ever made. I realize this kind of statement is bold and arguable but I base this on several factors including story, design, musical quality, juxtaposition of elements, emotional content, and depth of presentation. Yet, each musical seems to reach a different emotion. When I am looking for artistic expression and gut-wrenching emotion, West Side Story meets that musical and aesthetic need.

Last night, however, we watched The Music Man. A delightful musical about a con artist who sets out to "sell" a town on the idea of a boys band. The budding romance of the music man and the librarian, the creation of a town barbershop quartet, the sarcastically charming practices of the ladies club, the blossoming of a little boys' verbal abililties, and mostly, the transformation of the salesman, come together with engaging melodious music that although not overly profound, makes up for in musical wit and memorable lines. My own favorite song is "Marian the Librarian," although "Till There Was You" certainly has some fascinating chromatic alteration and difficult melodic leaps. It is a great musical and worth seeing over and over. Robert Preston does a great job of "snowing" the town and then getting "caught" himself.

My personal list of other favorites is almost too long to mention but here are a few: Oliver, Phantom of the Opera, Les Miserables, My Fair Lady, Sound of Music, Mary Poppins, Singing in the Rain, Brigadoon, South Pacific, Oklahoma, Cinderella, Showboat, Fiddler on the Roof, On the Town, Wizard of Oz, Into the Woods, An American in Paris, and many others. Anytime you need something to see on a Friday night, check out a musical. You won't be disappointed.