Parenting Beyond Belief - edited by Dale McGowan

If God didn’t exist, I would probably be an atheist.

This thought occurred to me several times as I read this collection of essays. “Parenting Beyond Belief” edited by Dale McGowan is a book that I found mostly interesting, but I don’t really recommend it.

I was excited to read this book in the interest of understanding how a system of morality is obtained and taught to children without including belief in God or some other higher authority. This book does contain information about this, but is much more evangelical of atheism than I was hoping.

I did like a few things. For example, the contrasting essays on Santa Claus covered many interesting points in favor and against establishing a belief in your children that you believe to be false. Having come from a family where Santa Claus was not taught as anything other than fiction (and having subsequently felt that I had lost out on a rite of childhood), I appreciated the differing perspectives on the subject. I also liked the chapter on Darwin’s Origin of Species. Darwin’s opus has been vilified in so many ways that I’ve never had the chance to see it as the fruit of a man who was passionate to discover and explain the world as he was able to observe it. Subjects such as these were definitely interesting to read and explore.

However, in the end, I didn’t really enjoy reading “Parenting Beyond Belief.” While it was interesting to get a perspective on morality of those who do not believe in a personable and responsive deity, it often times felt more like reading the boastings of arrogant men and women, rather than reading the caring words of people who actually had compassion for the welfare of their fellow parents. I was hoping for the latter.

The Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis

I enjoyed rereading the Chronicles of Narnia series. While as a series it is fairly disjunct, there are parts of it that I love. Most of those parts include Aslan.

I love how Aslan is written in these books as he encompasses so many of my feelings for God: The grandeur and the intimacy; Being loving and personal, but full of infinite wisdom and knowledge. Like a friend you trust that occasionally will be so brutally honest that you are cut to your soul and feel an exposed, burning pain worse than any you’ve known, but once you’ve healed you realize that a persistent nagging pain is gone and that the scar the cut left behind is as valuable to you as your life. This is what I feel about Aslan as I read him in the books, and he seems to be an excellent allegorical figuration of my feelings about God.

It’s interesting to contrast these feelings with those from the notoriously “anti-Narnian” series by Philip Pullman, the “His Dark Materials” trilogy. There isn’t a single character in “His Dark Materials” that doesn’t at some point succeed in making me feel frustrated, hopeless and cynical, with the possible exception of the polar bear king, Iorek Byrnison. I like the “His Dark Materials” series, but an uplifting tail it isn’t.

My recommendation is to read “The Chronicles of Narnia”, and probably reread the series once ever decade or so, if for no other reason than to be able to relive in print some of your feelings for your Heavenly Father. My apologies to all the atheists (and other humanist types) who don’t choose to regard those feelings as valuable.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J. K. Rowling

“Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets” by J. K. Rowling is an outstanding second offering in the heptilogy of Harry Potter. Though this book is a sequel, it has a very unique story line that builds nicely on the first. The characters mature in this second book into much more unique and three-dimensional elements, which further enrich the story and the world that we explore with Harry. If you liked the first book, you will like the second.

First some plot items I like in this book. I loved the flying car. The way it plays such a major role in the book is just fun, but it makes me disappointed that after this book it isn’t heard from again. I would have loved to at least have found its remains and had a brief eulogy, say, in book seven? I also like the crucial role that Ron’s wand plays throughout the book. On top of that you add mandrakes, giant pumpkins, freaky spiders, parsel-tongue and so many other items that make this second edition in the study of the “science” of magic very enjoyable.

In addition the characters all get a dose of richness in this second novel. Each character is unique and fully emotive in the text. Hagrid is simple of speech but incredibly good hearted and brilliant with magical creatures. Gilderoy Lockhart is conceited and fairly incompetent, but extremely cunning. Tom Riddle is unscrupulously motivated to better his abilities regardless of the expense of others, an obsession that thoroughly lays the foundation for his future exploits. Harry is good-hearted, insecure and full of the self-important poor judgment that I remember having when I was twelve. Dumbledore matures significantly in this book, from the kind-but-extremely-eccentric headmaster of the first book to a competent and loving grandfather figure. Severus Snape’s actions in this book are a little harsher than I would expect given his motivation (as revealed in book seven), but not unreasonable. Character after character is unique and consistent in the way they use words, in the way the circumstances affect them emotionally and in the actions that they choose. If you read “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets” for no other reason, then read it just to observe the beautifully crafted characters.

This second novel in the Harry Potter series builds and matures from the first into a very pleasant reading experience. The bottom line is that if you enjoyed reading the first book, then the depth and colors of the plot and characters in “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets” will enhance your appreciation of J. K. Rowling’s expressive and clear style of writing, and you will thoroughly enjoy this book.

The Five Love Languanges by Gary Chapman

I enjoyed reading “The Five Love Languages” by Gary Chapman and I highly recommend it as your next “self-help” style book. The ideas presented by the book are original and insightful, and have proven to be of great worth to me. This book is so good, in fact, that it deserves a place in everyone’s library.

First some history on why I chose to read this book. It was given to me probably 6 or 7 years ago by someone I am close to, but after discussing the book with this someone it seemed to me that they wanted me to read this so that I would see a justification for them cheating on their spouse. I wanted nothing to do with the book from that point on. It is likely that I still would not have read the book, but the someone passed away this past year, and I was able to finally “forgive” the book for being (to me) a symbol of their disloyalty to their spouse. Having read the book I can see that there is certainly no way anyone can justify using the principles of the book as reasons to cheat.

The ideas of this book are probably the only truly original ideas in improving relationships that I’ve read since reading “Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus” by John Gray, which is interesting in part because they share the same copyright date (1992). The ideas presented revolve around the five “love languages,” which are Acts of Service, Physical Touch, Quality Time, Receiving Gifts and Words of Affirmation. All five are presented as having some importance, but the author claims that everyone has one of these “languages” that is their primary need in a relationship. These languages are prefaced by a description of the “falling in love” experience and why it seems to go away. The author argues that “falling in love” is a wonderful experience that serves to bring people together and cause the propagation of mankind but is mostly accomplished without conscious choices, whereas loving someone beyond the 2 years or so that the “in love” feeling lasts is a constant choice. This assessment is very well supported by the author as well as by my own experience in my eleven years of marriage. Also, the chapter on finding the love languages of your children provides a great framework for seeking to show affection to your kids in ways that they will be most open to accepting. My wife and I still discuss the ideas in this chapter on children’s love languages regularly.

I am very grateful that I was able to read “The Five Love Languages” right after it was read by my wife. Being able to discuss this book together has lead to several positive revelations in our marriage. For example, I enjoy some extravocational activities that take a lot of time away from home to accomplish. In times that I’ve participated in these activities my wife has been frustrated and felt that I was choosing these activities because I didn’t like her and didn’t want to be around her. From this, we assumed that if I just spent more time at home she would feel better, but even as my time with her increased, she did not feel more loved. I abandoned the extravocational activities altogether, and even limited my work hours for a time, and it seemed that things were getting worse. This was extremely frustrating for both of us. It seemed that when I was away that all she wanted was for me to be home, but when I was home it seemed that all she wanted was for me to leave her alone. After reading the different descriptions of the love languages, we both have come to the conclusion that what she wants is NOT quality time, but rather acts of service. She was frustrated when I was trying to spend quality time with her, because what she really wanted was for me to help with the sweeping, the dishes, the laundry, cleaning toilets, vacuuming, yard work, changing diapers, kids’ baths – all things I was neglecting so that I could spend more time with her. I’ve been focusing on doing service to show my affection since this discovery, and it has made a big difference in both her feelings about my desire to participate in activities outside the home, as well as my own frustrations because now I understand how I can prioritize my time when I’m home to help her feel that I do love her. I’ve also finally been able to accept that when she does acts of service for me, it is not because she thinks I am incompetent or unwilling to do the tasks, but rather she is just showing her affection in a way that is natural to her. These changes in my attitude and perception may seem simple and obvious, but to me they were life changing.

This is a book that should be available to you on a bookshelf in your home. It is not a thorough psychological explanation of the concepts that are presented, but the book is very well organized for understanding the concepts, and the examples given lend a great deal of support from the author’s experiences that are easy to read and digest. This book can be valuable to everyone regardless of experience, religion or state of relationship if you are willing to contemplate and apply the principles that are given.

“The Five Love Languages” by Gary Chapman, is a book you should read and own. The concepts in the book give some of the best advice on showing love that I’ve ever come across, and it is full of truly original and well supported ideas on how to improve your relationship with your loved ones, be it spouse, children or anyone else. In my own experience I’ve found the book to be an extremely valuable resource that I continue to reference for ideas for showing affection to my wife in ways she will most appreciate it, and I’ve even been adapting the ideas at work to help make the “attaboys” more personal and enjoyable for my team members. You should take the opportunity to read this book; it will help you by revealing more choices for how you can show your love more effectively in your relationships.

The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger

I’ll try to keep this review brief, because I really did not enjoy reading this book. There are a few things, in retrospect, that I find redeeming about “The Catcher in the Rye” by J. D. Salinger, including that it does a good job putting you inside the mind of a person exhibiting traits consistent with mental disorder. With that in mind, this book is controversial enough (and short enough) that you should probably read it and form your own opinion.

I did not find this book to be pleasant reading. The number one reason I found reading this book to be laborious was due to the frequent use of “the name of the Lord thy God in vain.” (Exodus 20:7). Having to navigate through the text while trying to deal with the frequent betrayal of the third commandment made it difficult to relax and just read. I may have been able to get past that if the story was interesting, but it is rather boring and uninspiring. The characters all seem to be angry or hypocritical or both, without much difference between the characters. Granted, this may be on purpose because of the perspective of the narrator of the book. This leads to some qualities that, having completed my reading, I’ve determined that I liked.

“The Catcher in the Rye” is written from the perspective of Holden Caulfield, who appears in the text to be suffering from manic depression. This was the most interesting part of the book, and it didn’t really spark my interest until after I had finished reading. Even the use of God’s name in vain, along with other mild to moderate language used in the book exhibits as a symptom of the mental disorder. If “The Catcher in the Rye” has any real value, it may be in being able to see many of the traits of manic depression in a believable context.

A hidden gem in this book comes in the form of a teacher quoting Wilhem Stekel in the 24th chapter as he tries to communicate his concern as to the path Holden is taking in his life. The quote is, “the mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.” This quote is embedded in the middle of one of the best arguments for pursuing education and the value of applying yourself therein that I have read, which culminates in the words “…nine times out of ten [brilliant and creative men who are educated and scholarly] have more humility than the unscholarly thinker.” This thought that knowledge in the mind of a brilliant thinker will mature into humility is an idea that has great merit, and certainly deserves contemplation. This is, at least, a good reason to read the 24th chapter.

There are also other reasonable arguments for why you should read this book. It does give an interesting perspective of the culture of New York in the 1950’s. Also, the narration of the story is very fractured, almost like reading many short stories along the central story’s path, but it always maintains forward momentum, which is different than other books I’ve read. If the main plot was interesting this bird-walking narrative style probably could have made the novel quite compelling. The lack of conclusion to the story would usually ruin a book, but in this case it fits the book well, which is another aspect that could have been quite compelling if the story was enjoyable. Furthermore, Holden’s contrast in feelings for his siblings compared to his feelings towards the rest of the world is actually very interesting, and again would be great support for a decent plot. I don’t know that these are great reasons to read the book, but they at least make the time spent reading not seem completely wasted.

I don’t recommend “The Catcher in the Rye” as a must read, but its notoriety alone probably makes it a book you should read. While you will probably not enjoy the book if your background is similar to mine, there are some aspects of the book that make it unique and interesting enough to warrant spending the time to read it.

One word of caution, however: If you want to express a negative opinion of the book, don’t do so without reading it first.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J. K. Rowling

"Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone" by J. K. Rowling is a book I highly recommend, especially if, like me, it’s been 7 or 8 years since you’ve been through the text. I have a few grievances with the book, make no mistake, but this book is definitely entertaining, with complicated and contrasting characters and personable heroes in a rich, multilayered environment of discovery and mystery. If you haven’t read this book, you should read it.

I originally included a section here on why having a book about magic is not evil, but it doesn’t really fit in this review. I’ve included the text in a post-script if you would like to read it.

Allow me to vent for a moment. This book is actually called “Harry Potter and the PHILOSPHER’S Stone.” Why do we have the version we have? The philosopher’s stone is an actual legend (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philosopher%27s_stone) and Nicolas Flamel was an actual person tied to the legend (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicolas_Flamel). The “sorcerer’s” stone isn’t anything. I know, it’s not really a big deal, but I just wish the “American” version wasn’t the less interesting version, that’s all. Don’t get me wrong, some of the changes between the two books do improve the readability (http://www.hp-lexicon.org/about/books/ps/differences-ps.html), my issue is just with the substitution of “sorcerer” for “philosopher”. It also begs the question: in the movie, did they shoot two separate scenes for every section that included the phrase “sorcerer’s stone”? Do Britain’s see a different movie than I do? Does this British version come in a format that you can watch in the US? So many unanswered questions!!! (Alright, so in today’s wiki-age there’s no such thing as an unanswered question: see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Potter_and_the_Philosopher under “Filming”.)

Believe it or not, this is actually the first time I’ve read “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone”, and I’ve never actually read any of the other books in the Harry Potter series. That’s not to say I don’t know the text; all of the books have been read to me in their entirety by my wife, Britt. However, this being the first time that I’ve read the text myself made the reading an interesting experience, and made the story seem very fresh. Knowing how the entire series transpires and resolves makes the wonderful Easter eggs throughout the book more interesting (like the mention of Serious Black in the first chapter). The biggest strength of the book is the dynamic range in the personalities of its characters, but a close second is the setting of Hogwarts. This setting allows for a very natural introduction and exposition of many magical ideas, and allows for a nearly unlimited number of contrasting plot developments. The end is exciting and riveting, but I do have to say that I prefer the movie’s rendering of the ultimate foiling of the villain to that of the book; the book’s version just seems much…wetter. Harry Potter is an unlikely and endearing hero, and his friends contrast him so perfectly that the story ends up demonstrating many valuable life-lessons, like the value of teamwork, integrity and courage. A telling mark of an enduring book is its ability to be interesting the second time you read the story, and this is a quality that exists very solidly in “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.”

Needless to say, I highly recommend the book. Despite my frustrations with the removal of “Philosopher’s Stone” from the American version, I find the book to be well written, interesting and very entertaining. If you haven’t read this book, you should borrow a copy today from your friend who keeps bugging you to read it. The book is good enough that you won’t even mind that smug I-told-you-so look on their face.

P.S.
I’d like to put in a plug for why the use of magic in a story plot is NOT evil. I certainly understand why magic can seem inappropriate when you try to mesh it into a spiritual context. Magic can certainly be presented as the antithesis of the power of God. When we see Jesus Christ use the power of God in the scriptures, it often seems like magic, but Christ makes it clear that he is doing the will of the Father and not his own will, and he often attributes the ability for the power to work to a trait (namely faith) in the receiver of the power. This fits the best definition I’ve heard for the ability to wield God’s power: It is the ability to serve others. Contrast this with magic, which is usually depicted as being mastered by an individual so that it can be forced to do their will. Likewise, incantations are the antithesis to prayer. Prayer is an act of seeking to communicate with a supernatural superior, and thereafter trying to learn what answers have come from the supplication. Again, the expectation is that no matter what is prayed for, the answer will be according to God’s will, not according to the will of the party who is praying. Incantations, on the other hand, are repetitive phrases that can force the supernatural power to submit to the one saying the incantation. I could go on, but I think it is clear why some seem to think that magic and religion collide so viciously; it is because some would have you believe that they are competing for legitimacy.

There are two ideas, then, as to what magic power is. One idea is that for magic to exist, God could not, and therefore to suggest that magic exists is to suggest that God does not exist. The other idea is that to study magic is to seek power from those who oppose God. This is not how it magic treated in “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone”.

In this book, magic is just a cool version of science. Some examples? Herbology, the study of magical plants and their uses, is akin to many ways we study plants in the real world, just more interesting. Aloe Vera soothes your skin (boring); magical plants can make you breathe underwater (cool). Potions is magical chemistry. Mix the wrong chemicals in the real world and your explosion will likely kill you (scary, dangerous); Add porcupine quills before taking your cauldron of the fire and the explosion will be painful, amusing and immediately reversible (funny, poor old Neville, why is Snape so mean?). In “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone”, magic is treated as a source of power (akin to electricity) that taps into both the supernatural and emotional world around us, and Hogwarts school is dedicated to the science of how to use this source of power. Magic, then, is a mixture of science with imagination, and adding imagination to science is interesting, entertaining and valuable. It is NOT evil.

Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

“Atlas Shrugged” by Ayn Rand was a very difficult book to read, because it is not an interesting narrative whose purpose is to weave a story and suspend the conclusion for the entertainment of the reader, but is rather a very, very, very long parable designed to effectively prove the validity of a philosophy, namely objectivism. While Ayn Rand did an extremely good job of presenting her philosophy in “Atlas Shrugged” and wrapping it in a narrative that was often compelling, her book fails to be great fiction and should rather be read for non-fictional purposes as a means for understanding the intricate details of the application of objectivism. As a parable, “Atlas Shrugged” is very compelling and applicable in today’s political climate. While I don’t recommend “Atlas Shrugged” as a great novel, I do recommend you read this book if you feel that the wealthy business owners are robbing their workers of compensation that is the laborers’ entitlement.

Yes, you can.

“Atlas Shrugged” is a science fiction novel that follows the American political system through a collapse due to introduction of “emergency” laws that bring a socialistic system of rule, during which the opposition to these “emergency” laws is not to fight them, but to stop producing commodities that can be seized by those in power. People are divided into producers, competent laborers and moochers (also called rotters, leeches, looters and other names). Generally, producers create things (ore from a mine, crops from a farm, well-crafted art, realistic philosophies, scientific break-throughs), competent laborers work hard and successfully for these producers to enable there production and wealth (and are well compensated for their efforts) and the moochers try to manipulate moral codes to shame the producers and competent laborers into giving the moochers a portion of their wealth for reasons that only manipulated moral codes justify. Politicians in this book are universally in the category of the moocher (one of the leading moochers is even named Wesley Mooch). Successful and competent businessmen are producers. Dishonest and scheming businessmen are moochers. Competent laborers are highly valued by the producers and feared/despised by the moochers. This classification stems from the basic tenets of objectivism, which is, according Ayn Rand:
1) “Nature, to be commanded, must be obeyed.” – You can’t master science by pretending the laws of nature don’t exist.
2) “You can’t eat your cake and have it too” – You can’t consume something and expect it to still be there.
3) “Man is an end in himself” – Seeking your own survival as a rational being is the most basic virtue.
4) “Give me liberty or give me death” – Trading value for value by mutual consent is good; Forcing the exchange of goods with threat of force is bad. Redistributing wealth is evil.

As a novel, “Atlas Shrugged” starts with promise but ends up being boring and long. The story itself seems to grind to a halt in part three of the book and the reader must trudge through endless pages of essays on objectivism to come to the somewhat anticlimactic conclusion. If you boiled out all of the essays and made the novel to contain just the story, it wouldn’t be considered a great story.

The heroine of the story, the railroad executive named Dagny Taggart, is compelling but fairly disloyal and wishy-washy in her relationships. This is presented as a virtue, because to be loyal would be to deny her true feelings. As a heroine of objectivism I’m sure Dagny Taggart is almost perfect…but as a human hero, her desires shift a bit too frequently to make her trustworthy.

As a parable, “Atlas Shrugged” is exceptional. By placing her philosophy in a very carefully controlled atmosphere she is able to manipulate a very persuasive argument for objectivism. Her characters choices are realistic and usually believable, making the characters themselves seem much more human, which in turn makes the events seem very plausible. Furthermore, the political environment created in the story was so similar to today’s that it was eerie. “Atlas Shrugged” serves objectivism well as a parable.

I’m not going to spend a lot of time on the ideas of objectivism other than to say that I find it to be very interesting and to contain a lot of truth, but it is also rather self-promoting and inflammatory. Where Ayn Rand’s essays on objectivism become wearisome is when they start playing games with phrase meanings in order to illicit a response. For example, the “Love of money” in the 6th chapter of Timothy is akin to seeking to get gain without doing the work to produce, i.e. a robber loves money so he lies in wait to steal it. “Love of money” in objectivism is reinterpreted as the virtue of wanting to work hard to produce, akin to the attitudes of the first and second servants (given 5 and 2 talents) in the parable of the talents in Matthew chapter 25. The two ideas actually agree as to what the actual virtue is, so repurposing the phrase to try to create a division is frustrating.

If you want to read good fiction, pass over this novel. If you want to learn more about objectivism and have a chance to compare it and your philosophy, this novel will be a good one for you to read.

A word of warning, however: upon finishing this novel I didn’t want to read anything for several days because I was tired of trying to last through page after page of repetitive essays. No book should make you dislike reading; this one does.

Duwaigunali: Chapter 1

Gaindohi - gain-‘Doe-hee
Chunulay - ’Chew-‘New-lay
Duwaigunali - due-way-guh-‘Nah-lee

The sun was shining pleasantly in the sky as Jackson walked through his fields. He had always enjoyed farming, and this year was especially good for him. His corn was already up to the top of his head, and it still had several months of growing left to do. His wheat was coming in thick and strong, and, as he walked down the evenly spaced rows, the smell of his crops greeted him; a smell of sweet grass and earth. It was a smell that always reminded him of summers as a kid when he had helped his Dad in these same fields.

This has to be the best day that we’ve had yet this summer – thought Jackson – with the warmth of the sun in a cloudless sky, except for a few distant clouds behind the northwest mountains promising to bring some light rain this evening. It might be a good day to just sit outside, and maybe take a nap under a tree after lunch.

Jackson was so content that it took several moments before he realized that a woman was screaming.

It wasn’t a cry of pain or of grief. It was much more like the scream of terror a mother would give if the side of her house was crumbling and she looked out to see a thousand men tearing down her walls. It was a scream that captured that moment of awe in seeing such a sight, along with the realization that everything you’ve depended on for years is being turned to rubble and your safety has forever been compromised.

Jackson ran quickly toward the sound as what he assumed was a cloud cast a shadow briefly across the ground. He ran toward his neighbor’s home and saw in the distance his friend’s mother making the sound and staring at the southern sky behind him; screaming, but not moving.

A deafening roar knocked him to the ground.

The roar wasn’t savage like a beast seeking food nor was it a sound that brought terror at the fearful thought of what could produce the noise, but it was big, deep and loud. It started with a sound that was very similar to waves crashing into the seashore (that is, if you were standing under the waves when they crashed) and then expanded into the sound of a thousand of the lowest notes of the largest ram’s horns. The sound felt like it was taking root in the inside of his chest, vibrating everything including his heart, and then trailing off lower until he wasn’t sure he was hearing the roar anymore, but rather just feeling it in his bones. He felt paralyzed as he lay face down in thick grass, barely able to breathe until the roar stopped. As the mighty sound faded into the distant mountains, he took a deep breath and turned over.

Standing above him, three times the height of a horse, was a monster more fearsome than any childhood story had ever described. Its body was covered in black scales that looked like glassy lava rock, and it was clearly built for strength, with strong, thick shoulders rippling out to strong, thick forelegs that blocked the view of the lower half of its body. A neck as thick as an ancient tree sprung from between the shoulders and two large, thick and powerful looking wings sprouted from somewhere on the monster’s back. Glassy black horns ran down the monster’s neck like an aging mane. The fearsome face looked wise and terrible, with the features appearing like the cross between a lizard and a horse, but with green, piercing eyes that looked too clear to belong to a beast. The fluid lightly streaming from the edges of the eyes gave the creature the look of an ancient bleary-eyed wise man that has lost his mind and now endures the tortures of a paranoid insanity.

It took several moments for Jackson to realize what the beast was, and for good reason. He had never seen a dragon before.

Jackson drew in a breath to scream out his own involuntary cry, but before his fear found voice a dark blue flame burst from the dragon’s mouth and enveloped Jackson and the ground around him. The distant woman’s scream was no longer heard by Jackson, because he could only hear the fire raging across his body. He writhed under the flame as he felt his clothes being consumed from his skin and every inch of his exposed body burning, from the soles of his feet to top of his head, to the crevasses under his fingernails. Jackson gave himself up to the heat and the pain until, after what seemed like several agonizing minutes, the flames stopped. He opened his eyes and looked again into the black dragon’s eyes, but they were now wide with what looked like confusion. The fluid still glistened at the edges of the mystical lizard’s face as it swept forward to Jackson’s pain-weakened form below it, and with a deep inhale the beast pulled back, grunted with a low growling sound and leapt into the sky. As the beast flew off, Jackson noticed that the hindquarters, though not as massive as the monster’s shoulders, were no less muscular and a long tail as thick as the dragon’s neck and equal in length to the rest of the creature’s body trailed behind.

Jackson watched in awe as the dragon swiftly disappeared into the southern horizon. Looking around him he saw nothing but raw, rich, dark dirt for thirty feet in any direction. His arms and hands were cleaner than he’d ever been able to get them in a bath, and the skin was reddening as though he had been rubbing his whole body vigorously with a coarse cloth. A few scars from long-forgotten injuries radiated red and raw.

The pleasant summer breeze suddenly brought him to a realization that his clothes were completely gone. Jackson’s mind stopped trying to make sense of what had happened and flew into a flurry of protective reactions. He stood up and raced to his home, without any thought other than hoping that his departure was not being seen by his friend’s mother.

When he reached his home, he quickly dressed and, having no further sense of immediate need or purpose, he crashed to the floor as the gravity of what had just transpired came to him with as great a force as had the roar. He laid on the floor of his home weeping with relief and gratitude for his life being spared, and shaking with the terror he hadn’t had time to feel when the dragon was standing over him. He lay that way for several hours as his emotions had time to run their course and he finally relaxed and fell into a light, dreamless sleep.

He awoke to pounding on his door and a voice saying, “Jackson, are you in there! Sir Jackson of Gaindohi! Are you alright?” The voice was distantly familiar, but the last remnants of sleep were still clouding Jackson’s mind. As he opened his eyes he saw his door open and one of the king’s riders enter into his one-room home. The rider’s eyes opened wide as he saw Jackson on the floor. “Are you alright?” he asked with concern in his voice, “are you injured?”

“No, I’m fine,” Jack replied groggily, as he slowly lifted himself from the floor and discovered that his only pains were a kink in his neck and slight ache in the front and back of his head. “What are you doing here?”

The rider, his tone sounding like the conditioned response of a soldier, said, “I’ve been sent by the king to bring you to the castle.”

“Why?”

“Because of the…events that happened earlier,” the rider’s military tone faltered slightly, “He'll want to know what you saw and…how you survived.”

Jackson nodded slowly, grabbed his travelling cloak and walked out his door with the rider, who was looking at him just a bit too intently.

“Is everything alright?” Jack said, causing the rider to look away with a hint of embarrassment.

“Did … it … really breath fire on you?” the rider asked.

Jackson sighed and rubbed his forehead, “yeah, it did.”

“But your hair isn’t burned.”

Jackson ran his fingers through his hair, “no, I guess not.”

“Did it…hurt?”

“Yes … a lot,” Jackson replied, “look, let’s just go see the king. I’m sure he’ll want to hear all of this as well, and right now I’m not really up to talking about it.”

The rider blinked and nodded, and walked over to his horse. As the rider mounted and waited, Jackson went to the stable to saddle his horse, Chunulay, a strong workhorse with a white and brown hide, whose stockiness showed her strength but did not give any hints as to her incredible speed. That being accomplished, Jackson mounted as well and the two riders began to trot towards the center of the kingdom of Duwaigunali, towards the castle of King Robert.

After some time had passed, Jackson asked, “What do you think the king is going to do about all this?”

The rider replied, “Actually, that will probably be up to you.”

“What do you mean?”

The rider stopped his horse and turned to face Jackson. “The king doesn’t want you to come just to tell him the story,” the rider half smiled, “he wants you to renew your service to him.”

Next: Chapter 2

Fablehaven: Secrets of the Dragon Sanctuaryby Brandon Mull

I like the Fablehaven series and this fourth installment is a good addition to the set, which (according to the back of the fourth book) will conclude in a fifth book due out sometime next year. “Secrets of the Dragon Sanctuary” lacks the full emotional involvement that could catapult Mulls writing into the realm of the classics and suffers from some minor philosophical contradictions, but it is nevertheless an exciting and fresh story with unique characters and an unexpected conclusion.

Mull doesn’t fully develop the emotion of his stories, and this ends up hindering both the story and the speech of some of his characters. For example, in “Secrets of the Dragon Sanctuary” chapter 3 should be read before chapter 2. The 3rd chapter of the book (along with pieces of chapter 5) weaves an immensely emotion story that tears at your hopes and bolsters your fears, and makes you anxious to read on for a resolution, desperately hoping that Mull has a way to undo everything that he has done. At least, that’s how you would feel if you hadn’t spoiled it by reading chapter 2, pre-empting the emotional investment you could have made and the wonderful sense of unexpected relief that chapter 2 could have given you (by the way, there is a very similar situation in Book Two: “Rise of the Evening Star”; Chapter 13 should be read before chapter 12). Seth and Kendra’s grandparents also suffer emotionally in the story, often sounding very detached and business-like when they speak to Seth or Kendra, rather than sounding like a grandparent that truly loves and adores their grandchild and therefore can’t help but let that adoration make their communication more intimate. This lack of emotion doesn’t ruin the story by any means, but it is one of the things that keep the books of this series from being books that you are anxious to read again.

The books of the Fablehaven series also suffer from a few contradictions, and this fourth book is no exception. For example, Fairy’s are presented as not being able to be good or bad because they don’t really choose to do good things, and yet some of the fairies make choices that separate them as clearly being more trustworthy and friendly than other fairies. Another contradiction is how deception is treated in the “Secrets of the Dragon Sanctuary”. Betrayal and deception are the cornerstone of the evils of the book, and yet the “good” caretakers employ similar deceptive tactics in betraying the trust of some of the creatures on their reserve, justifying the deception and betrayal because of their need and the difficulty of dealing truthfully with the creatures. Honesty and integrity are the most important tenets of the “good” heroes I want to believe in, and if a hero must deceive I anxiously await the moment when all is revealed. A hero willing to permanently deceive others for sake of convenience is not the hero I want to stand behind, and these types of heroes should be presented as characters whose integrity needs to mature. Once again, however, these contradictions are minor annoyances, and don’t detract much from the story.

What makes this book worth reading is the story, and the rich array of characters and creatures that are a part of its world of magic. The creatures are exciting to learn about; some of the dragons introduced in this installment being especially interesting. The ending twist caught me completely off-guard, which hasn’t happened in even some of my favorite books. If anything, my criticisms described in the previous two paragraphs are the result of my love for the story of the Fablehaven series, and the rich magical world in which Mull immerses the reader. The contrast and collaborative possibilities presented in “Secrets of the Dragon Sanctuary” that result from the special magical abilities that have been granted to Seth and Kendra are possibly some of my favorites in any book that I’ve read. I am hoping strongly that the conclusion of the series in book five, “Keys to the Demon Prison,” will be inextricably dependent upon some great power that can only be wielded by these two young heroes.

The fourth installment of the Fablehaven series, “Secrets of the Dragon Sanctuary” is a book worth reading (after the first, second and third books, naturally). I wish that the stories were a little more refined to my taste, but they are still wonderful stories that are well written. Brandon Mull is an author that I will keep on the list of those whose books I am interested in reading.

All-American Girl

In 1948 the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League was in its sixth year and looked as though it would continue to draw crowds long into the future. The war that had conceived the girls league in 1943 had ended, but the league continued to draw huge crowds to their games. The AAGPBL was doing well enough that it easily supported ten teams.

The Rockford Peaches had a new player that year whose name was Riian, and she was destined to be the star of the team. Early in the year she had a batting average of .324 with only Audrey Wagner anywhere near her in the standings. In runs batted in only Dorothy Shroeder was near Riian’s numbers that year. She and Alice Haylett were the top pitchers of the league, both with almost perfect records and earned run averages under one. Everyone, from the bum on the street to the Wall Street executives, agreed that Riian was the best player in all the AAGPBL.

Even though Riian was excelling, the Rockford Peaches were struggling. Early in the season, with only ten wins and a disheartening sixteen losses, they had fallen to the lowest ranks of the league (well behind the Springfield Sallies) and Coach Allington didn’t know what was to be done. Riian was a clear stand out, but the other girls struggled in hitting, pitching and fielding, so it became very difficult to win games when Riian wasn’t on the mound.

Riian loved being the best at what she did. She worked very hard in batting practice so that she could not only hit the ball well, but also gain a lot of control over where the ball would go when she hit it. She’d spent years working on her pitching, so that now it felt like she just had to think and the ball would do what she wanted. Knowing that she had become the best player in the league gave her a wonderful feeling, but she was also very frustrated that her team kept struggling to win games.

It was in the 22nd game of the Rockford Peaches’ season that Riian began to watch the other girls on her team to see if she could determine ways they might be able to improve as a team. After all, these girls were all good ball players; it didn’t make sense that their team would lose so consistently. They were playing the Peoria Redwings on a warm and humid day in the early part of June. Riian watched as the other girls batted, and she noted that her teammate Jenna “Dottie” Kamenshek was doing well, and just needed to swing a little more level and she’d be able to start batting with much more power, accuracy and consistency. Riian got very excited and after the game (which, unfortunately, they lost) she told Jenna what she had seen.

“Could you help me level out my swing?” Jenna asked after Riian had explained her observation, “I would love to start hitting better!”

“Definitely,” Riian promised, and at the very next practice Riian helped Jenna learn the different techniques that would help. Soon, some of the other girls came over and Riian was able to watch each of them and help them improve their batting as well. The whole team became very excited at what they were learning, and Riian found she was really enjoying helping her teammates improve.

The Rockford Peaches won the next five games.

The team was ecstatic! They still struggled when Riian wasn’t pitching, but they were now much better as a team when it came to batting averages and runs batted in. Everyone was thrilled.

Everyone, that is, except Riian. She had been happy to help the other girls get better and winning the games was great, but Jenna had just passed her batting average and RBIs for the season. For the first time that year Riian wasn’t the best batter on the team. In the next few games Riian’s frustration grew as she fell into a slump and didn’t get on base for several games, games which her team lost.

During this time, Riian began to watch some of the other pitchers on the team, and she noticed that Carly “Eleanor” Callow looked very adept at hurling. All she needed was to improve her balance during her windup and perhaps try throwing a couple of new pitches, and Carly could easily be the best pitcher on the team. After the Peaches fourth loss in a row, Riian approached Carly and explained her thoughts in regards to Carly’s pitching.

“Can you show me how to do that?” Carly questioned after Riian had expounded, “I really want to become a better pitcher.”

At the Rockford Peaches’ next practice Riian and Carly began working on pitching techniques, including how to throw curveballs and knuckleballs. Soon the other pitchers on the team were asking Riian to help them as well, and they were all improving.

Once again, the efforts had a tremendous effect on the team’s performance, and they started winning a lot of their games. Throughout the season, their games became some of the most interesting to watch, and members of the crowd were often heard to call the Rockford Peaches the “most talented team in the entire All-American Girls Professional Baseball League.” They did so well, in fact, that they ended the season with the third-best record in the league, having won seventy-four games and lost forty-nine.

Riian, again, was happy but frustrated. She loved that her team was doing so well, but the end of the season had come and she was no longer the best at batting and pitching on her team. Jenna had ended the season with a batting average of .311 and 98 RBIs while Riian had come in second with an average of .310 and with 92 RBIs. Carly had finished the season with a win-loss record of 23-7 and an earned run average of .81, whereas Riian had struggled at the end of the season and had ended with a record of 22-8 and an earned run average of .85. With the playoffs approaching, Riian resolved that she would do everything she could to improve her batting and pitching so that she could have statistics that were better than those of Carly and Jenna.

Riian worked hard. In the post season games, she batted and pitched better than she ever had before. Jenna and Carly watched her improve and sought to improve along with her. The Rockford Peaches dominated the post season as these teammates competed with each other and helped each other refine their skills. They rallied against the Grand Rapids Chicks in the final games and won the league championship!

After the game, Coach Allington helped lead a celebration in honor of the girls’ achievements. Near the end of the festivities, it became time to announce the team’s Most Valuable Player.

“The recipient of this award has been difficult to single out, since we have had several top performers this season.” Coach Allington began.

Riian’s hopes began to rise. She felt certain that she had done the best she possibly could in the post season, and she desperately hoped it would be enough for the award.

“First we considered Carly, who ends the year as our number one pitcher!” At this the girls erupted in applause and cheering. The coach continued, “Her contribution was a major part of our ability to earn this championship, but she is not the one who earns our MVP award tonight!”

The cheers were replaced by a soft, interested whisper among the teammates. Riian, whose heart had sunk slightly at the news that Carly had finished as the top hurler, glanced at Carly and was surprised to see that Carly was looking at her and smiling warmly.

“Next, we considered our best batter of the season, Jenna!” Again the girls applauded joyfully. “But once again she was not the one who we chose.”

The murmur from the girls was much louder this time. Riian was a mix of joy and sorrow now, being happy that Jenna had done so well, but having realized that she was not going to be the best at anything this season. Looking up at Jenna with a fleeting tear of disappointment in her eye, Riian noticed that Jenna, too, was smiling at her. Her eyes widened as her hope rose again. The coach continued.

“Our MVP, however, did much more than have the best stats for our team. Our MVP recognized that she could help her teammates become better, and then dedicated herself to finding ways for them to improve. Our MVP also became one of the very best pitchers and hitters in the league, and without her we would never have reached this championship. Because of her, we are this year’s champions. Our MVP is…”

Coach Allington paused for effect, and the girls were unable to contain their cheers. All eyes were on Riian now, and Riian’s eyes filled with a few more tears that helped clear away their disappointed predecessors.

“RIIAN!”

The cheers were deafening now. Jenna and Carly came over to give Riian a big hug. “I knew he was going to pick you,” confided Jenna, “I just knew it!” “Me, too,” agreed Carly, “I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than you.”

…

Riian stayed on with the Rockford Peaches for two more incredible seasons before giving up the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League before the 1951 season to raise a family in her hometown. She later taught math and coached the girls’ softball team at the local high school for thirty-one years, and helped lead them to nineteen championship games, of which they won twelve.

Her family always remembers her as being very helpful, and very happy.

The End

The Chanseite Wall

There was once a man in the kingdom of Yantha, long, long ago, whose name was Cole. Cole served the king of Yantha and was one of the king’s best servants. When the king would ask Cole to clean the stable; Cole would clean the stable AND feed the horses. When the king would ask Cole to help plow a field so that it could be planted; Cole would not only plow the field, but also teach the younger men and women to plow the field so that they could help. Cole loved working for the king and he and the king became good friends. In fact, just like Joseph of Egypt, Nehemiah and Daniel, Cole was made the king’s second in command.

One day the king came to Cole with a job for him to do. “Cole,” said the king, “I need you to go and protect the city of Chanseth. This city keeps getting attacked by the Maislebessians.”

“Yes, my king.” said Cole, “I will gather the men I need and go to the city today.”

Cole immediately called upon two hundred of the best workers in the kingdom and together they made their way to the city of Chanseth.

Chanseth was built inside a wide, horseshoe shaped mountain range on the edge of the kingdom of Yantha. The mountains rose tall all around with small hills in front; these hills dotted with the houses of those who farmed the fruitful potato fields and houses of those who tended the cattle. The fields and pastures lay in the wide valley, and the city was centered near the mouth of the mountains. The wide opening at the end of the horseshoe valley made it very easy to pass to and from the city, but also made the city very vulnerable to the attacks of the neighboring kingdom.

This neighboring kingdom, named Maislebessia, could grow corn and other grains very well, but could never seem to have a successful potato crop. Since Chanseth produced the best potatoes in all the land, the Maislebessians would attack the town and raid their potato stores.

Cole quickly determined that he wanted to build a wall across the opening of the horseshoe valley, so that the Chanseites could more easily defend themselves from attack. With his two hundred men he began to lay the foundation of the wall. The stones had to be very large to be able to offer the protection that was needed, and two men were needed to carry every stone and put it into place.

A single Maislebessian approached one day, after Cole and his men had been working for about a month. By this time, the wall spanned the entire mouth of the valley and went up to a man’s waist. The Maislebessian, seeing the wall, shouted, “What are you doing! How dare you build such a wall!” Cole, hearing the man, went out speak with him, saying, “We are building this wall to protect ourselves from your attacks. Go and tell your king that should he attack this city again he will not prevail.” The Maislebessian replied in anger, “How DARE you say such a thing to our king! I will go get him now and he will send his army against you!” At this, the unfriendly Maislebessian ran away.

Cole asked his men to focus on continuing to build the wall, and he chose two of the men to help him watch over the building of the wall and help the men continue to construct. He then went to the city of Chanseth and asked the people to begin to prepare weapons of war.

After about another month, a small group of almost a dozen Maislebessians approach the men at the wall. Having had another month’s worth of effort applied to the construction of the wall had allowed it to grow to the height of a man’s eyes, and the work of building the wall was much more strenuous now. The small group of Maislebessians began to taunt the men building the wall, and would occasionally throw rocks at the builders. Cole’s men, however, had by now grown very strong from lifting the rocks for the wall, and rarely noticed the taunting or the rocks that would glance off of their arms and legs. Cole, however, would not stand for his men being treated this way. “Stop!” he cried to the pestering group, “be done this instant. We would prefer not to be taunted and abused in this way. Go and tell your king that this behavior will NOT be tolerated!”

“Ha ha ha ha!” the Maislebessians laughed, “You would not prefer this treatment! Such weak words will be easily met by our kings’ army!” This said, these rude men went their way.

Another month passed. The wall was now taller than a man, and the labor to build the great wall continued to strengthen the two hundred men who were working on it.

In the distance, a slow moving, thin cloud of dust showed the army of the Maislebessians approaching. Cole consulted with the leaders he had appointed and together they determined what they felt to be the best course of action. Each man was given a weapon and stood upon the wall. As the attacking army drew near, Cole and his leaders rode out to meet with the king to try to discuss options that would not need to include warfare.

The Maislebessian king brought two of his most fearsome servants to meet with Cole. Cole spoke first, “Oh king, we would prefer not to battle you today. Please leave us in peace.”

“Ha ha ha!” the king laughed darkly, “You should have never built your wall! We have come to tear your wall down, stone by stone, and to kill any man who will stand in the way! I have fifteen hundred men with me today; your two hundred will be no match!”

“King of Maislebessia,” Cole replied, “again let me say that we do NOT want to fight you and your army today, but WE WILL if you should attack.”

The king gave another dark chuckle and said, “You and your men will be attacked, and your wall will be torn down. I have nothing more to say to you.” At this the king began to turn to join the ranks of his army.

Cole called out, “King, let me say just one more thing.” The king stopped and Cole continued, “I believe you have not clearly grasped the situation. Look at our wall. The stones are large and expertly fit, and will not be easy to tear down into rubble. Also, my men have worked steadfastly with these boulders for three months and have become extremely strong. If you look at them you will see that each of them has the strength to exceed ten of your men. If you should attack us today, you will be met with our strength and your army will fail.”

The Maislebessian king swore in his anger at being so addressed, but he took a moment to assess the words which had been spoken. The wall was indeed finely built, with seams so tight between the hewn rocks that a man’s finger would be too large to find leverage. He then glanced at the men standing on the wall, each with a weapon in his hand. They appeared to be at least as strong as Cole had said, and possibly quite a bit stronger. Suddenly, the king did not feel that he had an advantage.

“I’m afraid it appears you are right.” said the king, “it is clear we will not likely prevail against you today.” At this the king was suddenly at a loss for words, fearing lest Cole and his men attack the king’s army.

Cole broke the silence, “King of Maislebessia, you will no longer attack this city! Should you try again, we will destroy your army. However, today I offer you a chance for peace. If you will promise never to attack any city in our kingdom again, we will build gates into our wall and allow you to bring your corn to sell to us. In return, we will bring our potatoes to your lands and sell to you.”

The Maislebessian king was quite surprised at this offer. The Maislebessians had been fighting with the people of Yantha for centuries and never had there been talk of the two kingdoms selling produce to each other. After talking with the men of his army, the Maislebessian king consented to promising never to attack any city in Yantha again.

Cole and his appointed leaders redesigned the walls to widen the gates to allow for trade, and (after several months of encouragement) Maislebessian corn was made available all through the kingdom of Yantha. At the same time, Yanthite potatoes began to grace many a Maislebessian stew. After many more years, the boys and girls of the two kingdoms began to marry, and the kingdoms found themselves tied together in bonds of family as well as commerce and friendship.

The king of Yantha was extremely proud of Cole for not only finding a way to protect the city of Chanseth, but also for using the strength of his men and the wall as a tool for befriending the nation that had, for so long, been unkind to the Yanthites. Cole had taken an enemy nation and made it a close friend and ally.

Even to this day, Chanseth holds a yearly celebration remembering the strength, change and friendship that came from the building of the Chanseite wall.

The End

The 360 Degree Leader by John C. Maxwell

I have to admit that I haven’t read a lot of leadership books, and so my take on “The 360 Degree Leader” by John C. Maxwell may be a little naïve, but I liked this book and think it is worth reading. I would highly recommend it to anyone who desires to be a leader in any organization.




One of my favorite books on leadership is “The 7 Habits of Highly Successful People” by Steven R. Covey. This book, published in 1989, has many ideas that are so engrained into business now that they have become cliché (e.g. being proactive & synergy) , but one idea that especially struck me was that of the abundance mentality. This idea is that you, a person in a business, a family or other cooperative organization, do not have to take from others in your organization in order to advance, but rather everyone in your organization can advance if they are willing to continue to add value to themselves and to each other.

“The 360 Degree Leader” expands on the abundance mentality by presenting ideas on how a “middle management” leader can support those who lead him, learn and grow alongside his peers and teach & help develop those whom he leads. The principles that John C. Maxwell teaches and evangelizes persuade that by doing everything you can to help others in your organization, while doing your own job well, you will not only improve your organization, but also improve your own influence, leadership skills and eventually your own financial compensation.

The book is written in a very easy to read style that helped it avoid the dry-textbook style I was fearing when I first decided to read it. Maxwell has filled his book with personal, historical and biblical stories that help to support his principles as he presents them, and which make it easy to continue reading.

One of my favorite stories he presents is the account of Nehemiah as a “middle management” leader who is allowed by the ruler to rebuild Jerusalem. This story lead me to think of many biblical accounts, such as Joseph (of Egypt), Daniel, David, Esther and others who had great influence as “middle management” and helped me understand just how important those who lead in the middle can be.

The principle that made the highest impact on me in this book was the idea that a leader should see everyone whom he leads as a “10”. I have a tendency to try and determine the limitations of those I lead and then try to do the best with what is left, instead of embracing the idea that they not only CAN do better, but also WANT to be better than they are. If I’m not willing to believe they can be one of the best producers and leaders in my organization, why on earth would they trust me enough to let me influence their growth? Changing this part of my leadership mentality will probably be the biggest initial growth that this book inspires in sme.

My only real issue with the book is that it feels like John C. Maxwell is not fully focused on what he is trying to teach, and therefore the book doesn’t seem to be as important to him as other things might be. The simple fact that this is one of over 40 books that he has written on many topics, and that his focus seems to be torn between his organizations, his public speaking and the production of his books, makes it seem as though there could be a much more concise and focused version of what he is teaching if he would spend more time and energy distilling and researching the ideas. This isn’t a major problem for the book, just a nagging personal feeling. I’m much more likely to trust insights if they represent a heavy investment of the author, rather than just one of a few dozen concepts that have been fleshed out into a 300+ page book.
However, as I have mentioned above, the principles taught in this book are sound and worth adopting. I think anyone who invests their time in reading this book will easily reap sufficient benefits to make the time worthwhile if they are willing to continue to change themselves and put into practice at least a subset of the principles taught.

Newborn Tragedy

A quick disclaimer: I didn't actually make this story up for my kids. I needed a monologue for an acting class last year and wanted to try and write one, this being the result. It was supposed to take 5 minutes, but ended up taking about 10.

We brought Emily home 3 days after she was born. I offered to take the nights. It’s not like I was going to get any sleep anyway. That first night Emily cried and I barely heard her. I didn’t talk to her, I didn’t rock her, I didn’t sing to her. I just fed her and changed her, and went back to not sleeping.

Amy and I met when we were in high school. We were paired up as dance partners, and both of us wanted to dance with someone else in the class. But, Amy was too tall for the boy she wanted and I was too tall for the girl I wanted, so we had to dance together. We were dance partners for 7 years, and it took us 3 years before we realized our crushes were ignoring us. At that point, it seemed pretty natural to start dating each other.

The second night with Emily I was angry, and I wanted her to stop crying. I fed her and changed her and yelled at her. I almost shook her I was so mad. But instead I put her down and let Amy’s mom deal with her, while I went back to not sleeping.

I gave Amy the tiniest little diamond ring. It was such a small little thing, but it was real and she loved it. We were just a breath past 21 when we were married in a friend of her family’s backyard. It was a wonderful ceremony, with just some close friends and family there. Later that night our friends threw us a party since we couldn’t afford a reception, and it was probably the most fun I’ve ever had; eating, drinking and dancing. We were pretty good at dancing together by then.

The third night I cried and prayed. Somewhere I new I couldn’t change things, but I was ready to make a deal with heaven or hell if things could go back to the way they were. It was no good. I finally talked to Emily that night; and I fed her and changed her, and went back to not sleeping.

After 3 years of trying, it was pretty obvious that maybe we weren’t going to have children. Amy tried to convince me we were just unlucky at first, but nobody is that unlucky. The anger and depression followed and seemed to hit each of us differently, but once we finally accepted that we weren’t going to have kids we decided we were going to try to take our minds off of it with missionary work. So, off we went with our church’s youth group to Mexico, neither of us speaking a lick of Spanish, to teach bible school. There was one little girl who came that we just fell in love with. She’d sit on Amy’s lap as we tried our best to read our pamphlets, and she would just talk and talk to us. We couldn’t speak much more that “Christo Vienne” by the end of those 2 weeks, but we loved that little girl. It was really hard on Amy after we left. Really hard. We didn’t do any more mission trips after that.

The fourth night I heard Emily, but I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. I wanted to die. Amy’s mom got up with her, fed her and changed her. I was in my room with the baby monitor off…not sleeping.

All Amy ever wanted to be was a mom. She had friends that were going to be doctors and veterinarians, but she was always going to be a mom. So after 8 years of trying and not succeeding, we were not being very patient with the little plastic stick that was going to tell us whether Amy really was late for a reason. It seemed like forever, but finally there it was…a little plus sign telling us that we were going to have a baby. Amy was finally going to be a mom.

We buried Amy yesterday. In the delivery room Amy got to hold Emily for a few minutes before the pain started. They took Emily to the other side of the room, and there I was, my brand new baby girl crying on one side of me, my wife bleeding to death on the other side. Amy finally just fell asleep and didn’t wake up.

Last night it finally hit me that the only way Emily was ever going to know about her mom was if I told her stories. I fed her, changed her, sang to her, rocked her and told her stories about her mom all night long.

This morning I fell asleep, and I dreamed I was dancing with Amy.

The End

Cloud Flyers

In a little town out west an amazing thing happened. A family had four children who all had super powers. OK, so this really wasn’t all that amazing all by itself; lots of families had children who all had super powers. Usually, however, the kids’ super powers were things like being able to grow your fingernails really fast, or being able to sprout a four inch hair in the middle of your forehead. What made this family amazing was that all four children could fly, and everyone agreed that (since flying was definitely the coolest superpower they’d ever heard of) this was a special group of siblings.

These brothers and sisters loved to fly on hot summer days when clouds would lazily cross the sky. There was nothing like a good cloud to cool you off, and the air was always cooler at cloud level. One thing that they always wanted to do was to fly through the big, fluffy clouds, but their dad had told them that it was a bad idea.

“Trust me,” he’d say, “it just isn’t safe to fly through the big, fluffy clouds. Try to stick to the flat and wispy ones and you’ll be fine.”

Their Dad’s super power, by the way, was that he could make his voice get very loud. This was handy, because no matter where the kids would fly off to they would always hear him call them home for dinner. In fact, pretty much everyone in the state would come home for dinner at the same time, thinking that maybe their father was calling them home, too.

One especially hot day, the children were looking at the sky hoping to find a nice cloud, but the only cloud that they could see was a big, fluffy and inviting cloud on the horizon. It was probably the biggest, fluffiest and most inviting cloud that they’d ever seen.

They went to their father to beg for permission.

“Dad, can we please fly through that cloud today?” said Cole, the oldest of the four, “It’s such a hot day and that cloud looks so nice!”

“Yeah, dad,” said Riian, who was second oldest and arguably one of the top 7 sisters in the world, “Please?”

“No, you guys,” their Dad said tiredly, “I’ve told you, it’s not safe to fly through the big clouds.”

“Aw, dad,” Jack whined, “it isn’t fair! That’s the only cloud in the sky. You have to let us fly through it!”

Izzy, who was the youngest and who was often a bit bossy when she spoke to her father, agreed, “Dad! You let us fly through that cloud!”

“Watch your tone, young lady,” said their dad, “and my answer is still no. You guys know better than this; please don’t ask me again.”

“ I need to go help your mother get through some doors.” Their mother’s super power was that she could hold an unlimited amount of things in her hands at one time. Unfortunately, when her hands were packed with everything she wanted to pick up, she very often would have problems with doorknobs and handles. “Why don’t you guys fly over to the pool or something?”

As soon as their dad was out of sight, Izzy turned to them defiantly and said, “I’M flying through the cloud.” Whoosh! Before the other three could respond she was off, and they quickly took off after her to try to catch her.

Izzy, though very small and awkward when walking on the ground, was almost as fast as the other three when it came to flying, so catching her when she had a head start was not going to be an easy task. Cole, Riian and Jack flew as fast as they could and slowly, slowly closed the gap between them and Izzy, with the cloud looming ever closer. Just as they grasped her feet, they passed into the cloud.

All four children stopped and hovered in the midst of the water vapor. It felt very good to be out of the sun and in the dampness of the mist. Cole was a bit confused. “This doesn’t seem very dangerous,” he said, “and it feels SO good.” Jack agreed, “I don’t think this cloud is dangerous at all.” Riian had a thought, “Maybe we should hold hands and fly around in the cloud for a little bit just to see what it’s like?” “Sounds good to me!” said Izzy, and they all began to drift slowly through the cloud.

After the heat of the day, nothing could have felt as good as the cool, moist breeze that greeted them as they wandered further into the fog. Every inch of skin that was exposed was bathed in the mist and it felt like every tiny spec of vapor was trying to kiss away the tiniest fraction of the heat that had made the day miserable. They continued to drift, and each one began to think that they just might stay in the cloud as long as they possible…

WHOOSH!

“Whoa, what was that?” said Cole, “Did you guys see something?”

“No, I felt something.” Izzy corrected, “it was right behind me.”

“Maybe we should try to find a way out,” Riian said a bit warily, “before…”

WHOOSH!

“There it was again,” exclaimed Jack, “What is that?”

“It looked kind of like a wet snowball!” Cole yelled.

WHOOSH!

“That’s not snow!” cried Izzy

WHOOSH!

“No! It’s ice!” Yelled Riian.

WHOOSH!

“Let’s get out of here!”

They began to fly with all their strength when WAP! a large hailstone struck Cole in the shoulder. With the ice flying past them at an ever-increasing rate Cole began to fall and Jack flew to catch him. In the next instant WAM! Riian was hit in the leg and also began to fall with Izzy in pursuit to catch her. When Jack and Izzy caught the other two they decided to try to fly straight down to get out of cloud, but SMASH! Cole stuck out his good arm to stop a softball sized hailstone just before it was going to hit Izzy square in the head. Izzy and Jack quickly changed their direction to try to avoid being hit so directly by the ice and slush and flew faster than they thought they could, especially with their injured siblings in tow. Hailstones of all sizes were striking the siblings all over their bodies now, with Cole and Riian bravely trying to take the brunt of whatever collisions they could so that Jack and Izzy could keep flying. The violent storm in the cloud was blinding them now and they were positive they could only last a few more moments when suddenly everything stopped.

They were out of the cloud, and back in the warmth and calm of the sun.

Izzy and Jack were exhausted and bruised, and Cole and Riian could barely breathe, but the peace of the air around them enveloped them and they began to recover. The unmoving air seemed much more inviting and welcome than it had just a few minutes prior. Cole and Riian began to breathe easier and could just start to fly on their own again…

CRACK! KABOOOOOOM!!!!!

A bolt of lightning soared past them; it’s origin in the cloud that suddenly seemed way too close. With what remaining energy they had they flew home, bruised but grateful, and vowing never to disobey their father again.

At least when it came to flying through clouds…

The End

Songless New York

Once upon a time there was a little boy named Jack who loved to sing. In fact, he loved to sing so much that he decided one day that he was going to go to New York to sing on Broadway.

He quickly packed his bags, got on a plane and flew to New York City, New York. The first thing he did when he got there was walk up to a theater, knock on the door and as soon as someone opened it he sang out, “I want to sing for you!”

They slammed the door in his face.

This was not what he expected, but he decided he would just try the next theater. Again, he walked up to the theater, knocked on the door and when they opened it sang, “I want to sing for you!”, but again, at this theater and the next and the next, the doors were slammed in his face.

Finally, Jack sang his “I want to sing for you!” song at a little off-Broadway theater in the basement of a doughnut shop, and the owner didn’t slam the door. The owner, a young man named Cole, hushed him saying, “sshhh!!! You can’t sing in New York anymore!” “Why?”, Jack asked. “Because the governor passed a law saying that all people who sing in New York from now on will be put in jail!”

“What?” Jack cried, “He can’t do that! We have to go talk to him!”

“I’ve tried talking to him,” said Cole, “but no one will go with me.”

“I’ll go with you!” Jack said proudly, “We have to convince the governor to let people sing.”

Without further talk, Cole and Jack made their way to the governor’s palace which was on the far end of Central Park. They climbed the many steps and went inside the huge front doors. Looking around inside of the Governor’s palace, they discovered it to be very beautiful, and when they talked their voices echoed.

“This room,” (oom-oom) said Cole, “is very nice.” (nice–nice).

“Yes,” (yes-yes) replied Jack, “I like it too.” (too-too). “We should sing in here!” (ere!-ere!)

And they did. Together in a very nice harmony they sang, “Twinkle, twinkle little star.” (tar-tar-tar), “How I wonder what you are.” (are-are-are). The notes and words echoed and filled the giant space of the palace with beautiful tones, but before they could continue singing the palace guards grabbed them.

“Hey!” said the biggest and ugliest of the guards, “you can’t sing in New York anymore!”

“That’s right,” said a slightly less big and slightly less ugly guard, “And you definitely can’t sing in the palace!”

“Take them to the dungeon,” said the last guard, who actually could have been quite handsome except that when he was seven years old he made an ugly face and it stayed that way for the rest of his life.

The guards carried Jack and Cole down several flights of steps to the dungeon of the Governor’s palace. The guards threw them roughly into a dark, dank cell and slammed the door with a brutish round of laughter, the ugliest one saying, “That’ll teach you to sing! They’ll be no singing here!”

Jack and Cole couldn’t see anything but the dim glow coming from the tiny window of the cell that let in only one tiny, single ray of sunlight.

“Hi.”

The voice scared them so much that they bumped their heads together (which did NOT feel very good). They fought back tears as the voice continued, “Sorry, your eyes will adjust soon and you’ll be able to see us. My name’s Riian and this is my sister Izzy. They threw us in here for singing, too.”

As Cole and Jack’s eyes began to be able to see in the dark and their heads stopped throbbing, they saw the two girls in the corner of the dungeon cell. The four of them talked about their favorite songs for a long time. Finally, Izzy said sadly, “I want to sing.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jack, “Why don’t we sing?”

“Yeah,” Cole agreed, “why not? They can’t throw us in the dungeon again!”

With Izzy and Riian in agreement, they began to quietly sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, first all together and then each of them singing different parts. The guards started yelling at them to stop, but as Cole had said, what could they do? They couldn’t throw them in the dungeon more than just once!

Outside of the governor’s palace, right next to the tiny little window in the dungeon, people started to hear the voices of the four brave children singing. Those who heard were so excited that the music was coming from the palace that they began to sing themselves. Soon others heard the new singers and joined in, the pattern continuing until the whole city was singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star in one giant, eight part chorus that could be heard all the way in New Jersey!

The sound and music was so big that the Governor himself came out of his palace to tell everyone to stop. He yelled with all the strength he had, “Thtop! Thtop it! Thereth no thinging in New Yo-ahk!” The Governor had a very high pitched voice that included a rather nasal quality that made it sound very silly. The people who had heard him stopped singing and said, “Governor, we’ve never heard your voice before! You should sing soprano for us!”

“What? Who, me? Do you really mean it?” the Governor responded, “I’ve alwayth wanted to thing, but nobody’th ever athked me before. I would love to!” And the Governor began to singing a beautiful descant as the chorus enlarged singing “Like a diamond in the sky”. Or “thky”, as the Governor would say.

The Governer changed the law so that New York could sing again, and Jack, Cole, Riian and Izzy were let out of the dungeon to sing many songs with the governor that echoed through his palace that day. The people of New York were so grateful to the four children that they moved Cole’s “off-Broadway” theater from the basement of the doughnut shop and put in the middle of Broadway, making it the only truly “on-Broadway” theater in New York.

Jack, Cole, Riian and Izzy perform in that theater five nights a week these days, in very funny musical comedy about lisping Governors, big palaces and stars up in the sky. Sometimes during the Saturday matinee the Governor himself makes an appearance to sing about flowers in June. Everyone who sees the show thinks it deserves a Tony Award.

The End

And so I eat my words...

I said I would never blog, and that I didn't even like the idea. Apparently I've changed my mind.

My intent is to use this blog as a place to post my thoughts as I finish books, and also as a place to post the stories that I make up for my kids.

Here goes.