Groundhog Day

One of my parents’ all-time favorite movies is Groundhog Day, and it ranks pretty high up there on my list as well. We watched it tonight, and so, unsurprisingly, I felt a lot like Bill Murray when I checked some other people’s blogs tonight.
Several of my favorite people are just scattered about the globe right now, and all of them have this amazing ability to not update their blogs at all. And since the most recent post on every one I checked was still from the first week of December (or November… or September) I could just hear “I Got You, Babe” as I went through the checklist of favorite (unupdated) blogs.

Then I thought to myself… “Mine looks pretty much the same.”
Now granted, I’m in Elizabeth City, I’ve been working my tail off the last couple of weeks between practicing various instruments and putting musical instruments into the hands of seemingly every middle schooler from Hertford to Manteo. But I’ve just been totally slack on my writing, both my own stuff and my more public face of dannypeck.net (/facebook).
So thanks to watching Groundhog Day all the way through for the first time in many years, here’s what I’d do if I had a day to live over. And over. And over…
1. Learn piano. And flute. And pan flute. And charango. I’d probably brush up on a lot of other instruments I play as well, starting with the guitar. I’ll probably never be Carlos Santana level. But repeating the same day over and over, I think I’d at least try. And I’d resort to music lessons much faster than Phil Connors (and before Sciuridaedicide).

2. Take up ice sculpting. I promise I’ll stop stealing from Harold Ramis after this one. But I mean, really? How many people can even do that? It’s gotta be pretty lucrative.

3. Reading. I think if I lived to be 300, I could start reading now and not stop till I died and still not have hardly put a dent in my personal reading list.

4. See how many languages I could learn. If nothing else, I’d finally know what Paul was laughing at in that Shyamalan movie, and I could exponentially increase the length of my reading list.

5. Travel. Bill Murray was stuck in Punxsutawney, PA because of a blizzard. Hopefully I’d have better weather. If you’re going to wake up in the same bed in the same place every morning, why not at least make it a challenge for God or fate or Harold Ramis to put me back in bed and make it to Ecuador or India or Japan by 5:59 am.

I could keep this list going. I could fill it up with more interesting, meaningful, or at least funny things than these. But I’m going to return to The Epic of South America and simply attempt to live out number 3 instead. Merry belated Christmas, Happy early New Year, and a prosperous Groundhog Day.

Gideons: Third Time's a Charm

Referencing this post from Sept 8, 2008 and this one from September 12, the Gideons came to La Casa today to give out New Testaments, mostly in Spanish, to the kids there. At the end, one of the guys asked me if I’d like one. I simply responded “Sure.”

Good thing he didn’t try to give me a bilingual one. I would have gone through my whole “don’t-want-to-waste-a-Bible” dilemma again since some (really awesome) person I know gave me one of those already. Now if anybody needs a pocket-sized New Testament, I’ve got one handy.

Moravian Lovefeast and little noises

If you don’t know what a Moravian Lovefeast is, here is an okay description.

This was the fourth Moravian Lovefeast I’ve attended and the third one in which I’ve played. I keep hoping Billy will dig up some piece of music that needs a saxophone, but having to practice clarinet again recently I’ve remembered why I liked it so much in the first place. Plus playing something small means I get to sit next to Toni. We get scolded at least once each Lovefeast and Easter for cutting up.

But my main musings tonight were not on the music (holy cow, the solo soprano!) or the sweet buns and coffee (alas, none for the musicians) or the scripture (“rut-row!”) but on the thousand little noises going on in between.

Services at a mainline protestant church in the U.S. are generally solemn occasions, even when they start with something like this. Crying babies are just unacceptable in Stateside church services, which is just a little disappointing after you spend a significant time at worship services in Ecuador. This kid was crying right at the beginning of the service. Not screaming. Not wailing. Not even crying loudly. Just crying the slightly-tired cry of a really small child. Before the three-song prelude was even finished and the bell rung, the family of five with the baby in question was down the balcony steps, through the Narthex and out the big oak front doors because their kid wouldn’t be quiet. I thought he was doing well in finding the strings section’s key. They thought he was being obnoxious. Though in hindsight, it’s also socially unacceptable to quiet a baby here the way you would in Ecuador.

During the middle of the service while the buns and coffee are being distributed and consumed, the choir, the strings, the full orchestra, and one or two soloists take turns playing pieces, and during the last one (which happened to be an organ/choir-only piece this year)  the coffee mugs are collected. I have to admit that the clink-clink-CLINK-clink-clinkity-clink-clink-clink-CLANK-clink-clinkity-clink got to me for a second there right as it started. Maybe it was the sound moving back down the aisles with the Dieners and their trays, or hopefully just my attitude improving (doubt it). But very quickly became musical to me. I think that- much more than the people standing up- and downstairs- just drove home how many people were packed into (what I believe is) the second-largest sanctuary in Elizabeth City.

It was also hilarious to see Billy’s eyebrows get closer and closer together the longer the “clinking” went on. He eventually just rolled his eyes and started to ignore it, but I guarantee that it will be mentioned before the 2009 Lovefeast.

And finally, my favorite little noise of the night. Just before we played “Silent Night” at the end of the service, in came the ushers, Dieners, and Junior Dieners to light all the candles. Off went the electric lights (in a relatively stately manner- not bad for Baptists). The sanctuary held its breath in silent anticipation.

Now in 1818, “Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht” was oiginally written for and performed by one unamplified classical guitar. In 2008, it was desecrated by half a dozen grill lighters CLICKing for dear life, trying to set aglow 400 little somethings I’ve always taken to be symbols of simplicity. And while the CLICK CLICK CLICK did make me cringe and will probably set Billy to swearing tomorrow, I think little things like that tend to put us in our place.

We can plan and practice and perfect our performances and services and songs all we want. But what it really comes down to is using those talents (planning, putting together that gigantic bulletin, playing or singing music, or just sitting and appreciating it) that God has given us and giving them back to him.

My philosophical musings are not going to stop me from suggesting that the candles are lit by other candles (in turn lit by matches in the Narthex) next time around. Neither is the fact that I’m not going to be in the Moravian Lovefeast next year (something I’m both extremely excited about and slightly saddened by, and that’s as much information as you’re getting right this second). But initial annoyance or not, I’m thankful for all the “distractions” tonight.

Not Classifiable as "Witness"

Billy, you are forewarned. This is a rant.

I get invitations all the time to join facebook groups about Christianity. And I would feel bad if I ignored them, but I felt ridiculous joining the “I Believe in Jesus Christ” group a couple days ago, already being a member of the “Christians” group, along with “The One Body of Christ Experiment” as well as “Jesus Christ is the Freakin’ Man.”

I would have just joined the group so as not to offend the person who sent me the invitation, and then never thought about it again. However, I got a message from the group administrator to all the members this afternoon. It said “Imagine what kind of witness this group could bring if all of us added just ONE person a week [to the group].”

Shane Claiborne once said something (I’ll find the quote when I’m not full of turkey and lazy) about people giving money to charities to insulate themselves from real charitable work, from having to be exposed to poor people themselves.

I think we invite others to these little groups on facebook and join them ourselves similarly to the useless way we put the Holy Mackerel on our bumpers, making a silent statement about our faith and thinking that’s the only way we are expected to live it out. Aside from the fact that inviting people to the “I Believe” group is only going to end in a big group of people who already believe and not be a “witness” to anybody, I think labeling and classifying ourselves with names and groups and facebook invites is just another self-serving insulation from evangelism and living out faith.

While I may or may not go on a deletion spree of my own group memberships, I hope that my faith is both more evident than my facebook participation, and evident to more than just like-minded people. As St. Francis of Assisi said, I want to “Preach the gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.” Or facebook.

Presidential Poncho

This is just too wonderful not to be shared. I’m doing a bad thing and using up the Associated Press’ bandwidth by linking to this photo, but doing a good thing and not outright stealing it. W’s Press Secretary really should have foreseen this being a problem for him before he was allowed anywhere near cameras in it.

And I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth. I’ve actually been writing, and there are 4 drafts saved to my blog software right now. Maybe I’ll have some time to polish and publish those over Thanksgiving. Enjoy this in the meantime.

 

Photo Credit: Associated Press

Update, September 2020: Because I originally did a good thing and linked to the photo, it eventually went away when the AP archived their original story. So twelve years later, I did dig it up in another place on the internet and uploaded it to my own site. Not only was this too good not to share, it’s too good to let disappear. I truly miss the days that the President of the United States managed to still be charming and entertaining even when he was an idiot.

Comings and Goings

This week I’ve talked to Mike in Morocco, Skyped Teddy in Wales, and said good-bye to Julia before she heads to Ethiopia. I’m planning for Jerry and myself to see the Vivancos in South Carolina and play some music when they come up from Ecuador, and setting in motion some other plans that will take me back to la mitad del mundo. I’ve sent text messages to California, Michigan, and half the South, and got a super-brightly colored envelope from Wisconsin.

I don’t particularly like the way people boil down surprising relationships to a set of coincidences when they say what a “small world” this is. But that doesn’t mean I brush off how how amazing it is that certain people have been brought into my life at discrete times (not to be confused with discreet times, though that can be said as well).

Even looking around the Tangent Minds several months before I left for the summer, I  realized that it’s very likely that some time in the near future, not a single one of the people then present will even live in this country, and how significant that group has become in the lives of each other and how strange (and yet how reassuringly) we all found ourselves (or found ourselves placed) at the same certain place at the same time.

Pilgrimage

Pilgrimage is the UMC North Carolina Conference annual youth conference in Fayetteville, NC. I’ve been going since 2000 with a several-year hiatus and a semi-disastrous return last year.

Last year’s sleeping conditions were “not condusive to”, the  showering conditions were “non-existant”, and the music was actually somewhat a solution to the first problem. I was a little more realistic, hopeful, and generally prepared this time around. And overall, from a standpoint of looking at a conference as a success or not, this one was fantastic.

I did some strange things, like consistently getting in the back of the line for food, obsessively counting my ten charges, and drinking at meals in a manner that did not necessitate refills. It was Saturday afternoon before I realized this is the first leadership-type activity of this sort that I’ve done since Quito Quest this summer, and was therefore unsurprised at my disappointment in the (lack of) length of the Pilgrimage leaders’ survey. Habits die pretty hard.

I discovered several things over the weekend though. The first is that I cannot spell “coliseum” or “disappointment” (spell check came up when I just typed both of those).  Another is that the Everything skit still brings me to tears. And finally was a more realistic view of both the vulnerabilities and the strengths of ten teenagers, Kelli, and myself.

Something I’ve been struggling with lately (as I told the D group tonight) is my ratio of giving to getting in worship. Another general struggle is not knowing how to deal with some of the stuff that my brother’s age group is going through because the Band Mafia and the BROs were apparently so sheltered in high school. But that third realization came from seeing God move this weekend beneath the surface-level emotions and interactions of our group.

Some things just need an honest conversation. But sometimes you just need your Merkel Cells stimulated. A middle-schooler with a wide-eyed question brought my to my knees where a Bishop failed  to inspire any emotion this weekend. I know I’m going to be chaperoning Pilgrimage for years to come.

DST Thoughts

I was watching Jon & Kate Plus 8 last night. Get off me, I like it. At any rate, they took a two-stage trip to Hawaii. The first stage was a stop between their Pennsylvania home and their Pacific archipelagic destination for a few days in California. The idea was that they’d put all eight kids on Pacific time so that the transition into UTC-10 (Hawaii time) wouldn’t be as drastic.

It’s something I totally appreciate. Granted James has been home so I’ve not really cared about what time I’ve been going to bed this week. But even taking that into account, I’ve just been exhausted this week because of the time switch. Even five days later I’m not fully adjusted to it (and Pilgrimage this weekend is not going to help). And coming off Daylight Savings Time is only an hour difference. It makes you appreciate how sensitive the human body is to its environment.

My other observation about Daylight Savings Time is that almost every news article about it that gives any kind of history always mentions one the the “pros” of DST being the fact that children can trick-or-treat with more daylight. Why in the heck would you want more daylight? I always thought it was strange when I watched the movie ET and all the kids were trick-or-treating before dusk. Maybe it’s just a Southern thing, but everywhere I’ve ever lived, Trick-or-Treating begins when it starts to get dark and ends at about 9:00.

Are Georgia, Mississippi and the Carolinas just weird?

Unique Halloween

Heather asked me last night how my Halloween had been. I described it as “uneventful.” I think that analysis came to my mind because at that point Jerry, Adam and I were sitting around my house doing nothing and it was 11:00.  But upon further reflection I decided it was one of the most eventful I’ve ever had.

I went trick-or-treating with Kelli, Nick, Christopher and Madeline. I was Johnny Cash. But even walking around with a guitar, you don’t get much recognition when you’re escorting a 4-year-old Batman. A sculpted 4-year-old Batman, at that. I don’t think my Batman costume was that buff back in the day.

We were mostly done trick-or-treating when “Yan” attacked me with what I thought was silly string. Turns out my hair was full of spray cheese. Yeah. Spray cheese. Not remotely silly (or tasty. I wasn’t even sure if it was cheese after consuming some of it- out of the can, not from my head).

Turn It Around. You'll Get More Leverage.

A couple days ago my parents bought a new chair for the computer and desk downstairs. My dad opted not to pay the $4.99 to have Office Max put it together. “It’s probably only in two pieces,” he said.

Colin and I were both home when they got there and Dad handed Colin the keys to his car and told him to bring in “the package” in the back of the Jeep. Mom, Dad, and I were talking in the kitchen for several minutes before Colin came back, somehow managing to open the door with one hand and hold this gigantic box in the other. Deeply engrossed in whatever we were discussing, nobody noticed the gigantic racket he was making as the poor kid struggled to get it in the house. After a minute or so of banging noises, a roughly 3′ x 3′ x 4′ box on legs went by us, saying “No thank you, family, I don’t need any help.”

We laughed sheepishly as Colin thunked the big box on the floor and said “Danny can put it together.”

I rolled my eyes, but my dad said “Go ahead, it won’t be hard. It’s only in two pieces.”

Dan: “You should have just paid the $4.99.”
Dad: “I’m trying to be green and save money.”
Mom: “What’s green about saving money?”
Dad: “I’m saving my green.”
Danny: “I would have paid the $4.99”
Colin: “Yeah, that would be green and save energy. Ours.”
Dad: “Office Max probably makes a ton of money off lazy people that do that. This will only take 30 seconds. It’s only in two pieces.”

I opened the box and pulled out seven pieces, a box of screws, an Allen wrench, and a bag of wheels. “You should have paid the $4.99, Dad.” “Oh well,” said Dad, “it still can’t be but so hard.”

The directions had me stumped by step two.

Connecting the wheels to the “star base” was not much of a problem. But when I put on the cylindrical part that actually holds the “chair” section to the “base” section, nothing held it there. “Mom, I can’t figure this thing out by myself.” I took off the cylindrical mechanism and handed it to her. Colin walked away before anything could be handed to him, probably to relax in the old computer chair that has now made it to his room.

Said mom: “Well it goes right here.” She placed it in the same place from whence I’d just removed it, in the same way the directions showed to do so. Nothing held it in place.

Oh well. We went on.

Assembly of the “chair” section meant using the box of screws. We managed to attach the “gas lift” mechanism to the bottom, which should have been the complicated part. Flipping it over, we began the “easy” assembly of the seat, back, and two armrests. Mom held each piece in place as I began to place the washers and screws and tighten them. By this time we’d spent twenty minutes putting together this “two piece” chair that should have theoretically taken 30 seconds. Dad was now observing again.

Dad: “Dan, use the other end of the Allen wrench, you’ll get more leverage.”
Danny: “Dad, I’ve put together a lot of crap with an Allen wrench at Goody’s and Albemarle Music.”
Dad: “Yeah, okay. But use the other end. You’ll get more leverage.”
Danny: “I will turn it over when I get to where it needs to be really tightened.  Right now I just want it to turn quickly.”
Dad: “Right. With the other end you’ll get more leverage.”
Danny: “I want it to turn fast right now while I’m screwing it in, until it gets tight. I can’t turn it as fast if I flip it the other direction and hold the long end.”
Mom: “You’re just like your dad.”
Danny and Dad: “Hey!”

By this time, the screw was in plenty far and began to resist as I tightened it. I flipped the Allen wrench around (just as I had intended to do) and my dad thought he’d won. “See. You get more leverage.” My hand flew off the Allen wrench. “See, I can’t hold onto it. You should have paid the $4.99.”

We attached the two armrests to the seat. Next was connecting the back to the armrests so it would stay in place relative to all three other components. I began with the fifth screw so far out of six total.

Dad: “Will you turn that Allen wrench around? You’ll get more leverage.”
Danny: “I will when it starts to get tight.”
Dad: (Reaching for the wrench and then stopping himself multiple times) You just need to- Will you turn it ar- I’m just gonna- mmm.”
Mom: “Do you just want to do it yourself?”
Dad: “So I don’t have to watch? Yes.”

Dad took the Allen wrench, which I gladly ceded as I stood up from a crouching position on the floor and traded places with him to watch the continued efforts struggle.

After ten more minutes, Dad still hadn’t managed to line up both the screw holes both the left and right side of the seat back at the same time and get a screw through one of them without turning the seat back to a position that would leave it impossible to finish the other side. Finally, I placed the seat back in the correct position, my mom held it there, and my dad started to screw it together.

He turned the screw. And turned the screw. And turned the screw. “It won’t go in there.”

Danny: “Maybe you should turn the Allen wrench around and get some more leverage.”
Dad: “Danny!”
Danny: “Or you could have just paid the $4.99.”
Dad: “Danny!”

By this point my mom and I were laughing too hysterically to really be helpful anymore. I’m not even exactly sure what held the components of the chair together until Dad actually got it screwed together.

It turned out to be a really comfortable chair, and a good hour of family entertainment. But next time they buy a disassembled piece of furniture, I’m going to Adam’s house. And next time I buy a piece of furniture, I’m paying the $4.99.