Author: AKMA

This morning, as we were getting ready to go in to town, I quoted for Margaret the Valentine’s Day couplet that stands out in my memory: “If you’ll be my Valentine / I will be forever thine.” Margaret said, “OK, but I hope we don’t have to keep talking that way,” to which I responded, “Isn’t it just a lovely day?”
 
That, in turn reminded Margaret of one of the boys’ favorite Sesame Street sketches (It reminded me of The Princess Bride, but Margaret had the floor). “Remember when Nate used to say, “Fer the rhymin’ game, Bert!” At that point, we would have to play the part of Bert as Nate rapped through the scene. “I wonder,” I said, “if it’s on YouTube.”
 

 
Happy Valentine’s Day, Nate! And Si, and Pippa, and Jennifer; and always, forever, rhymingly, Margaret my dearest!

I think Blue Bumpy (our ’96 Subaru Legacy, named after White Bumpy, our Grand Caravan, which in turn was named after Bumpy the Car, our Toyota Tercel which was named after Bumpy the Car, a favorite book of our young’uns) — anyway, Blue Bumpy has been to John LaRue’s repair shop four times in the past ten days. LaRue’s performed comprehensive repairs on several vital systems while we rented a car two weeks ago, but three after days we got Blue Bumpy back, it started overheating like crazy. Took it back to LaRue’s, they refilled the radiator, fiddled with a few things, got it back, and three days later. . again. So I took it back yesterday, and they hazarded a guess that there might be a thermostat problem, bring it in this morning and they’ll replace the thermostat. I just got back, and they didn’t charge me — since they aren’t sure the thermostat was the problem. John has been putting in considerable time and attention to squaring away the cooling system problems, at no charge — and although I don’t imagine that readers will flock to Princeton to have him work on their autos, I wanted to salute him in public.

Benjamin hit a new level, and Micah and Laura are duly proud — gratz!

Someone offered a hockey card of Bobby Orr in the eBay category for Holy Cards.

My installation of Leopard seems stable at this point, and I’m missing only a few passwords and registrations, so far as I can tell. (Whoops! I forgot to add an email account for disseminary.org; oh well. . . .)
 
I’ve had a lot of helpful feedback on the phone topic. Shelley emailed me, then posted, some extensive directions on playing hardball with mobile phone companies. Trevor and Kevin have offered disused Verizon-credentialed phones, while Bruce sent me to an online phone store, and Tom suggested picking up a substitute Verizon-OK model at a Big Box retailer. I’ll probably take up one of these suggestions, but I’m more irked than ever that I can’t just select a server and a phone manufacturer based on the quality and price of their services — rather than participating in a bizarre, anti-competitive hazing ritual to get phone service.

Margaret sent me to the Verizon store yesterday because the microphone on my cell phone no longer works. I didn’t come away with an audible sell, because the very patient Verizon franchisee explained that I wasn’t eligible for a new phone till April 8 — at which time I could receive a “free” phone if I re-upped for another two-year contract. I could, of course, buy a new phone at retail price, which would run about $150. “OK,” I asked, “without disrespect to your helpful service, what if I wanted to switch carriers?” Well, if I switched before August 8, I’d owe Verizon $175.
 
Now, I’m sure there’s someone out there savvier than I about the ways of the telco oligopolies. What would you suggest that I do? You can either leave a comment, or email me, or you can text me at my cell p[hone number.

Jennifer points me to the manga interpretation of the Bible by Ajinbayo Akinsiku. I’ll look forward to seeing a copy, but it sounds promising; comics artists are finally getting the backing to perpetuate the tradition of the blockbooks, stained glass windows, Bibles Moraliseés, and so on. This goes on the reading list along with Scott McCloud’s books and Marked.

I had been delaying the upgrade to the latest Mac OS, and — it turns out — for good reason. This was the most painful OS upgrade I can remember. Luckily, I had cloned my main drive before I started the operation. Unluckily, the cosmic forces of contingency hammered the interactions of my drive, the installation DVD, and the back-up drive, such that I ended up installing the OS about three times (I lost track after a while). Once it was all installed, the system wouldn’t boot; evidently, it needed its PRAM cleared. Then the usually-silky-smooth Migration Assistant pooped out partway into the transfer of files from my back-up to my main drive. I’ve been doing the rest by hand.
 
On the other hand, tomorrow probably won’t be worse than today.

Rowan WIlliams has taken incessant hectoring for his approach to the current miseries of the Anglican Communion. Yesterday morning, I understood one reason I’d been sticking up for him through the storm of dissatisfaction.
 
Internal conflicts in church take shape in a context that is lost once the antagonistic parties formalize their exclusive distinction from one another. That is, once a church divides over the question of whether congregants are permitted to sing in harmony or only in unison, the two parties define themselves as “harmonic Anglicans” or “unison Anglicans” in a way that neither party was predefined before the schism. Once that “not-them” definition enters the self-consciousness of everyone concerned, it can be exceptionally difficult — impossible, as far as flesh permits — to bring together the groups who once separated, even if they no longer sense the urgency of arguing over congregational music. It will turn out that Harmonic Anglicans decide to tithe their gross income, and Unison Anglicans will make a voluntary pledge based on tax-adjusted income. Unison Anglicans will decide to ordain adolescents, but Harmonic Anglicans will reserve ordination to adults.
 
Especially when participants in the conflict believe that the well-being and integrity of common life depends on their interpretation of the gospel prevailing over their neighbor’s, they need to preserve as long as possible the conditions that conduce to sustaining that common life — even if that entails impatience and dissatisfaction — last we burden our heirs with the task of rejoining an even more intractably divided [ex-]communion. So far as I can tell, Williams is not rushing deliberations toward a “decisive” outcome, not because he’s wishy-washy or lacks principle, but because he cares with all his heart for the possibility of unity, and that possibility would suffer devastating harm by any formal schism.
 
Oh, and the Archbishop didn’t suggest that the UK inevitably adopt sharia law, as a careful, patient reading of his remarks should make clear.

In a good way, I mean.
 
I had to take Blue Bumpy back to the garage for some more LaRue Lovin’ (the cooling system had developed an airlock that was overheating the engine, non-heating the cab, and forcing radiator fluid out of the pressure valve), and I discovered that sitting in the garage waiting room, sipping burned coffee and reading, listening to my iPod, that I was overflowing with ideas. I could hardly write fast enough to note down angles that I want to incorporate in the sermon series, in the first chapter of the Matthew book, in articles and talks. I’ll try to develop some here, but my highest priority is whipping them into shape for the particular writing assignments I have this season.
 
But doesn’t that feel great, with ideas sizzling through your mind like lightning, connections between intuitions and evidence coalescing, explanations leading to inferences that lead to new insights. I almost hope the car needs more work in the near future — but you can’t recapture those intervals simply by recreating the circumstances, as any number of novels and films have tried to teach us.

An unusually early Lent and Easter, during which time I have four Holy Week sermons to prepare (about 2000 words each), one article (2600 words), and a paper for discussion here at the Center. Add in a few other preoccupations, and please understand if I’m paying only partial attention to Blogaria.