Gender: Male
Status: Single
Age: 98
Sign: Sagittarius
City: NASHVILLE
State: Tennessee
Country: US
Signup Date: 5/11/2005
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Sunday, November 22, 2009
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Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
Phil Cooke is a media guru that has worked within the religious and mainstream broadcasting world for decades. His most recent book, The Last TV Evangelist: Why the Next Generation Couldn’t Care Less About Religious Media, And Why It Matters, is a thought provoking read. The text is loaded with frank discussion on what is ailing the communication techniques that western Christians have employed for the past 50 years that are quickly becoming passé.
Some of the chapter titles alone are spicy:
The Great Deception
The Wacky Factor
If You Want to Reach the Next Generation, Stop Doing This Now
Should We Ever Offend the Audience? Why Conflict Matters in America
Change or Die
Embrace Ambiguity: Appreciating the Mystery of Life
Here are some of my favorite quotes from the book. Let me know which ones resonate with you:
• It’s been said that Hollywood is brilliant at making fake things look real, and Christians are brilliant at making real things look fake. In a culture where design holds a powerful influence, taste—or lack of it—is noticed.
• Are we preaching a message based on the Bible’s intentions or the audiences’ aspirations?
• We start engaging culture by listening.
• In the digital age, our challenge is not the pursuit of information, but rather the pursuit of discernment. It’s not about search, it’s about filters.
• There are a lot of diseases I deal with on a daily basis that have infected the church, but one of the most serious is shallow thinking.
• Accepting ambiguity may be our greatest act of faith.
• From a communication perspective our world has transformed from a one-way model to a two-way, dynamic conversation. Simply put, in the open world of the future, those who just preach or teach without regard to the way the audience understands and responds will be left behind.
• Life isn’t about finding easy answers—life is about asking the right questions.
• To reach this generation, we have to create programming that acknowledges that we have to accept the mystery of life, realize it’s not always fair, and we don’t have all the answers.
• The new media generation is about stories and conversations, not sermons and lectures. It’s about popping the bubble of religious media and embracing the secular audience. To Impact the culture we need to engage, not boycott or criticize.
• From the beginning we have been creatures of choice. We are not ruled by instincts, robotic instructions or programming. We have free will—we can choose. But within that choice is the great paradox. Choice means that we are free to do evil as well as good. Choice means that we live in a world where birth, life and growth are balanced by decay, disease, and destruction. Choice means the responsibility to do the right thing—not the license to do what we please. Choice means that true redemption is in life’s struggles.
• The journey is taking place every day. Stop looking for the finish line and enjoy the race.
• This generation is highly skeptical of an easy fix. They understand that life is complicated and they are far more comfortable participating in a conversation than listening to a lecture.
• Today, it’s not about how we communicate with the audience; it’s how they communicate with us.
• For the most part, traditional Christian media doesn’t unify, it divides. It’s about being against issues, not being for issues. It’s about aligning the Christian faith with a political party or being critical of the culture rather than reaching out and engaging the culture.
• The truth is, the Church today has it backwards. We spend too much time criticizing the outside culture, and not enough time holding each other to a higher standard.
• I’m particularly uncomfortable with “safe” media. “Family safe” is something you hear a lot on Christian radio and TV. But try as I might, I just can’t find anything in the Bible that calls us to live “safe” lives. It wasn’t very safe for Jesus to say the things he did. People who have boldly preached the gospel throughout history have been beaten, tortured, and burned at the stake—so why would I expect the media expressing that story to me and my family to be safe?
• If your insecurity is powerful that you won’t change, then get out of the way.
• We don’t need to water down or compromise our message. We need to be honest about our doubts, our fears, and our questions. The truth won’t make us less credible, it will make us more credible.
If you're in the Christian communication field, I highly recommend you read this book. Let me know what you think.
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Sunday, November 15, 2009
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Category: Writing and Poetry
With all the hoopla about the next Twilight movie coming out next week, I thought I would share this article about America’s most famous vampire novelist, Anne Rice that AP published a year ago:
For those who haven't been paying attention lately to vampire lit, America's most famous chronicler of bloodsuckers, Anne Rice, is riding new waves of enthusiasm: the memoir and Christian literature.
Her memoir, Called Out of Darkness: A Spiritual Confession, is the latest piece of evidence that Rice is reinventing herself in an attempt to build a reputation as a serious Christian writer.
In the memoir, the 67-year-old writer doesn't disavow the two decades she spent churning out books on vampires, demons and witches -- with a batch of S&M erotica thrown in -- following the breakout success of her first novel in 1976, Interview With the Vampire.
But she's clearly moved on.
Rice lays out her goal: "To be able to take the tools, the apprenticeship, whatever I learned from being a vampire writer, or whatever I was -- to be able to take those tools now and put them in the service of God is a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful opportunity," she said. "And I hope I can redeem myself in that way. I hope that the Lord will accept the books I am writing now."
The memoir follows the release of two books in a planned four-part, first-person chronicle of the life of Jesus.
And in this new 245-page memoir, Rice presents her former life as vampire writer as that of a soul-searching wanderer in the deserts of atheism; as someone akin to her most famous literary creations -- Lestat, her "dark search engine," Louis the aristocrat-turned-vampire and Egyptian Queen Akasha, "the mother of all vampires."
"I do think that those dark books were always talking about religion in their own way. They were talking about the grief for a lost faith," she said.
In 2002, Rice broke away completely from atheism -- nearly four decades after she gave up her Roman Catholic faith as the 1960s started. It happened when she went off to college and found her peers talking about existentialism -- Martin Heidegger, Albert Camus, Jean-Paul Sartre. Religion, she writes, was too restrictive to the young Rice. Too out of step.
Yet, religion had to come back into her life, she writes. For her, it was something she'd have to face up to again like an absent parent or a long-lost love child or Banquo the ghost in "Macbeth."
By the late 1990s, when she went back to Mass, Rice -- the author whose books sold in the tens of millions and who had recharged Hollywood's appetite for vampire-inspired horror -- had fallen on hard times.
Her husband, poet and artist Stan Rice, died of a brain tumor in 2002. And she had become victim to diabetes.
When she was 12, she had her father turn a room on the back porch of the family's Uptown home in New Orleans into an oratory modeled after St. Rose of Lima -- the saint Catholics believe turned roses into floating crosses. She wanted to be a saint, she writes.
In the memoir, Rice describes a familiar Catholic upbringing imbued with opulence and mystery. The incense. The statuary. The stained glass. The darkness. She learned the world, she writes, through her senses, through a "preliterate" understanding of the world. She writes that she possessed "an internal gallery of pictorial images" that, lamentably, was replaced "by the alphabetic letters" she learned later.
"You might call it the Mozart effect, but it was the Catholic effect on me," she said.
In a sense, the memoir also is a confessional about her struggle as a writer to be a reader, a thinker and an author with a distinct literary style.
And the bar is high when it comes to writing about Jesus. Jason Berry, a novelist and journalist who has written extensively on the Catholic church says "A lot of narrative artists in both literature and film have taken on Jesus, like (G.K.) Chesterton, and Norman Mailer."
Rice isn't out to impress the critics, though.
"My objective is simple: It's to write books about our Lord living on Earth that make him real to people who don't believe in him; or people who have never really tried to believe in him," she said.
She pressed the point: "I mean, I've made vampires believable to grown women. Now, if I can do that, I can make our Lord Jesus Christ believable to people who've never believed in him. I hope and pray."
(Adapted from an AP story, Oct. 2008)
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Sunday, November 08, 2009
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Category: Life
Two weeks ago marked 10 years since I moved into my home in the Twelve South neighborhood of Nashville. Reflecting back on this decade has been an exercise that has made me both pensive and thankful for the new friends, experiences, and stability that home ownership has brought. I had never had proprietorship of a place in my previous 4 decades---always rented because I didn’t want to be tied-down to a mortgage and all the responsibilities. But I knew with my then-growing artist management business in the late 90’s that it was going to be difficult to continue operating out of my tight apartment in Hillsboro Village. I was also ready to take on the investment and everything that it would entail to be the king of my own castle.
With my good friend Rick Florian serving as my real estate agent, we looked at over 20 homes. The one I settled on was actually the second one we looked at. We were both amazed at its relatively low price in a locale that was in the beginning stages of a renaissance, especially in comparison with several others we looked at within two blocks. It had also been on the market for 3 months, which was awfully long by Nashville standards at that time. It had character, but we wondered if something might be wrong with the property, so we decided to look at other options while some inquiries were made. But I kept thinking about it as my overall favorite due to its traits, the way it could be divided for living on the first floor and business upstairs, and the huge elm tree in the back yard. The fact that it was a mixed neighborhood was very appealing to me as well.
After getting positive reports from several sources and an A-OK on a residential examination, we were convinced that God seemed to be holding this house for me. The financing worked out nicely, and everything was settled in a matter of weeks.
I set the somewhat ambitious goal of paying off the joint in 7 years. You see, I hate debt. I buy all my cars used and with cash. I shop around for deals on furniture and appliances. I never possessed a credit card until I was in my mid-30’s, and that was only to develop a credit rating. In those 16 years, I’ve only not paid it down monthly on two occasions. I keep my AC at 78 in the summer and heat at 62 in the winter. I own the same stereo system I had in college. I have a cost-effective electric lawnmower. So, in many ways, I was Dave Ramsey before Dave Ramsey existed. It took 22 months longer than I had hoped, but indeed, the mortgage was finished a year ago September. How freeing it is to not owe anyone anything other than paying my Visa bill off each month.
In some ways, not much has changed about the house or neighborhood, and in others, it has been quite the upheaval. For instance, my good neighbors James and Barbara, Eunice, Sam and Michaela, and Emmitt have remained steady. But there have been 3 different families in the rental home across the street, two addresses down from there has had 4 families in that refurbished place. My favorite neighbors, Carl and Carol, replaced Martin the second year after I arrived. And I’ve made friendships with others that have moved-in along the way like Barrett and Rachel behind me.
On the deed of my home, it states that it was built in 1927. However, a residential historian friend of mine who knows much about this part of south Nashville believes it might be 15 years older than that. It certainly looks like it was added-on to several times, and was most likely a duplex at one point. One of the unique features is that the right side of the house has all the floorboards running east and west, but the left side they are all north and south; you can also see where there used to be other doorways in the front and back---both pretty good indicators that there were additions along the way.
Other than changing the exterior paint from gray to red velvet this summer, repainting the upstairs interior, and having to basically get the whole house rewired to support all the computers, printers, photocopier, and additional window air units for the second floor headquarters of my business, I’ve done little to the structure itself. The lot, however, looks rather different. I tore out several rows of ratty bushes along two sides of the front yard, and several ill-placed trees next to the foundation and along the back of the lot. The lawn was in bad shape upon my arrival, so I worked many years to get better grass sewn into the mix, leveled out some spots where there had formerly been some large stumps, excavated and leveled the area where an old overgrown brick walkway cut through the center of the back yard.
Employing my old buddy Marc Wozniak, we tore down an aging shed in the back and replaced it with one of those slick Home Depot models. Also ripped out the back deck which had developed a termite issue the second year after my arrival (thank goodness they never got anywhere in the house), and replaced it with a smaller all-concrete version. We removed the logs that had bordered the back driveway/parking area from the alley entrance and replaced them with two layers of castle rock trimming. That same type of retainer was built along the front sidewalk to replace some decrepit cinder block that was collapsing. The 3 foot high, 50 foot long decorative wall with trimmed “monkey grass” adorning the top layer now makes the front view of my home so much better. My property is the only one along the block with this effect, and, if I do say so myself, it looks terrific. I am so thankful for Woz’s skill and muscle in putting all of that together.
As I reflect on these years, however, it is what happened with people on the inside that gives me the most joy. It all started with 16 friends showing up on a nippy October morning in ’99 to load up a 24 foot Ryder Truck with the incredible amount of stuff (mostly business related) out of my 750 square foot apartment, and move it two miles to the house. We got everything transferred, unloaded and set up in less than 4 hours. It still boggles my mind how much quicker it took than any of us expected.
My little business continued to run for 2 more years after my arrival, and two full time employees, Carey Dodson and Rann Russell, did so much to add ethos and fun to those months trying to keep fledgling rock groups on the road and on budget while the music industry was beginning its decline. We had many college interns during that time like Kelsey, Melissa, John, Christie, three Michelle’s, Morgan, Crystal, and Connie who added thousands of extra hours of assistance in arranging press, advancing concert dates, organizing bulk mailings, data entry, and much, much more.
My side business with Curtis Swartzentruber on Jungo International provided mail-order and internet fulfillment for tour merchandise by the bands I managed along with several others, and that kept us all busy packing, weighing, and sending out thousands of packages around the world.
It was a bustling time that not only featured as many as 5 people working at once in our 800 square foot upstairs office space, but also many times when up to 8 band/crew members from either Smalltown Poets or Clear would be staying in my home during layovers on tour runs—sometimes for 5 days at a stretch. And there were untold additional meetings on the premises with record labels, producers, booking agencies, ministry partners, t-shirt companies, and so on.
In the spring of 2001 I decided to stop managing artists when I was asked to return to Compassion International’s employ as the manager of their retooled Radio Marketing Department. Though the headquarters are in Colorado Springs, they were fine with me running the endeavor out of my dwelling since I already had the necessary equipment and the fact that most of our primary radio relationships were in the eastern U.S. at that time.
There was a tremendous amount that needed to be done to rebuild partnerships and strategies that had fallen into disarray, and my boss was fine with me bringing in more interns from Belmont University to assist with the load. So over the next five years great assistants like Carrie, Nathan, Amber, Katy, Hannah, Adam, and Kyndall once again pitched-in with thousands of hours worth of help. In the process, over 60,000 poverty-stricken kids in the developing world got sponsors to assist them with health care, nutrition, clothing, education, and the hope of Christ through the radio events that we helped organize and stage across America. They were often tireless in data entry, editing audio clips, researching broadcasters, setting up phone centers, organizing artist interviews, etc. On top of that, the youthful energy and great attitudes by these interns added so much to my life, and kept me from despairing at times from the work load.
By the time this decade reached its midway point, Compassion had created enough capacity with full-time support staff in Colorado so that I didn’t need regular help on the business side. But I continued to hire Katy Kinard as a personal assistant of sorts. For these past 5 years she has been such a blessing in everything from organizing receipts for tax returns to power washing my sidewalks; from figuring out computer glitches to mopping floors; from hanging curtains to duplicating CD’s. On top of that she is an extremely reliable driving service to and from the airport on hundreds of pre-dawn departures and late evening arrivals. Her smiling face is such a respite for this often travel-weary soul. I’m so indebted to her for the great touch she has brought to my habitat.
One of the areas I’ve especially liked in my abode is the space to more fully decorate with paintings, sculpture, weavings, and photos I’ve collected from each of the 49 countries I’ve visited. Katy has also been a huge help in picking out the right frames and best spots around the homestead to make it visually intriguing, but not overwrought with kitsch.
Of course, it hasn’t all been labor-intensive at the ol’ hearth. There have been multiple big blow-out parties like the Titans-Rams Super Bowl of 2000 (when 17 people were crammed in my den screaming their heads off in that amazing 4th quarter comeback that fell just a yard short), or the Academy Awards party last spring when nearly the same amount watched our favorite, Slumdog Millionaire, sweep to 8 Oscars; or viewing get-togethers for Presidential Debates, Stanley Cup Playoffs, Election Nights, World Series, or dozens of Movie Nights. There have been at least ten different Game Nights where we crack up until we’re sore with Uno, Taboo, charades, and the like. Then there were Village Chapel Dinner Clubs with groups of 8 of us sharing communal meals and getting to know each other better. I hosted some Art Nights where folks could share their paintings, poetry, and music for mutual inspiration and encouragement. I’ve sung-in several New Years with family and friends, hosted the occasional cookout, and had sign-painting get-togethers with some of the other crazies from Cellblock 303 at Predators’ games.
The most people ever crammed into my 1900 square foot digs were when 47 showed up for my 50th Birthday Bash. I’ll never forget the gales of laughter when I was forced to be humiliated as “Mini Mark.” I sat at a table and put my arms through some little pants and my hands were placed into some old shoes; then my sister, Joyce, stood behind me, covered with a blanket, and placed her arms around me through a little shirt. It was her task to then feed me, wash my face, brush my teeth, and shave me, etc. without being able to see me. One guest said she nearly peed her pants she was laughing so hard.
One of the favorite uses of this homestead has been to host visitors who needed a place to stay. Of course my family members have come on lots of holidays, and the aforementioned bands spent many a night on the hide-a-bed couches, air mattresses, and sleeping bags on the floor. There have been guests from Canada, El Salvador, and Scotland; homeless guys that I’ve taken in on cold nights; families stopping at the midway point of their trek from Chicago to Florida; young couples with infants; guys who were going through separations or divorces who had nowhere else to stay; friends in town for extended work projects who needed lodging; folks whose homes had been damaged in ice storms and needed shelter until repairs were made; other musicians in Music city for gigs, or songwriting sessions, or conventions that would rather stay with me than in a lonely motel. All told, to the best of my recollection, I’ve had 79 different people stay at my home for a total of 1,066 nights since I’ve been here. And I can truly say that I have enjoyed every visitor and the time they have helped fill these walls and my soul with the hustle and bustle of life, laughter, and meals.
Along the way there have been some unexpected challenges. Like the central air unit failing on Friday afternoon of 4th of July weekend when I had 7 guests, and hence, not finding anyone to repair it until the following Tuesday. It literally got to 99 degrees inside the house. Or, on the other end of the spectrum, the furnace dying on a Saturday in mid-February during a snow storm and the inner temp diving to below freezing (thank goodness for my heated waterbed). Then there was a wasp infestation of my front porch while I was away for 10 days (and the resultant attack and multiple stings I received upon my return home), moles in the back yard, a few mice in the kitchen from time to time, and the water heater failing on a frigid January morning. Though frustrating at the time, I can say they were character building now.
My time here has now outdistanced the longest I’ve ever lived in the same residence by two years, and honestly, it may well be the last place I ever own. I say that with much gratefulness in my heart, and anticipation of what new adventures may come my way on this beloved property that God has entrusted to me.
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Monday, November 02, 2009
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Category: Life
Back in the day when I shared apartments with some rowdy friends, we got hours of in-house entertainment from constructing involved answering machine messages. This was long before digital voice mail. Even before code-a-phones allowed you to produce the spot to the length of your choice. At that time, your answering tape could be either 60 or 30 seconds. Should we have finished the text of our message before the allotted time frame, then there would be either dead air until the tape ran out, or an annoying *beeeeeeeeeeeep* covering the remainder of the tape. Most folks hated that, so we chose to flesh out the time with oft complex productions.
At first, just friends and family would hear our thespian efforts, often leaving messages that were nothing more than laughter. I guess they were so tickled they began letting other folks know, and we would get calls from those unbeknownst to us. Imagine how weird it was sometimes when we would be home and answer, only to have a stranger ask if we could hang up so they could call back to hear the recording.
Eventually it started to get out of hand, because a local radio station began a bit on their morning show where they would pick the “Answering Machine Message of the Day” and play it over the air. Ours became one of their ongoing favorites. But instead of playing it multiple times throughout the show, they would just give out our number.
I recall being away on a business trip for a few days, only to come home and find something like 109 messages on the machine. Most of them just chuckles and guffaws. A few with mock indignation over one of our satirical forays. Occasionally some folks who truly thought we had crossed the line. Of course, since they called, we could hardly be guilty of crossing anything—they came to us. : )
So, you ask, what exactly were these miniature epics like? Imagine anywhere from two to ten people each with script in hand, various sound effects, synched background music, and even choral arrangements worked out. Like the old days of recording--before multi-tracks or dubbing—we had to get everything right from all participants in one pass. Often it ended up being 20 or more tries, punctuated with much hilarity and mock disgust when someone would miss their cue, mispronounce a word, or crack up. The absolute worst was when you would finally get a brilliant take, but the tape would end 1 second before we did, thus cutting off the punch line or the beep. So we would have to try to do it all again just a tad faster.
I’ve kept several cassettes loaded with these behind-the-scenes shenanigans, and they never fail to keep me and others rolling when revisited. I believe one 30 second production took close to three hours before finally hitting the mark.
Here is a selection of some of these prodigious performances:
- Just 20 days until Oral Roberts dies! (counting down his self-imposed “calling home” if he didn’t raise $8 million by a certain date)
- Pristine Potentate’s Gymnatorium (featuring lots of “lift, clean, and jerk” references)
- Mortimer Snerd’s Hairlip Enunciation Courses
- Jim Rockford’s Answering Machine (featuring Lance, his limp-wristed house boy, who would often be beaten viciously by Jim while he told Rockford “Ooooh, Jimbo…Owwww…I’ll give you ten minutes to stop that!”)
- The Porgy Tirebiter Singers (kind of a cross of Up With People and South Park)
- The Adventures of Underdog, Sweet Polly Purebread, and Simon-Bar-Sinister
- Dial a Debutante (a precursor of Girls Gone Wild)
- The Opera of the Absurd
- Various Pro Wrastlin’ Throwdowns (featuring Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake, Adrian “Man Boobs” Adonis, BoBo Brazil, Dale the Bus/Pile Driver, The Pencil Neck Geek, Hip Hulgan, Sergeant Slaughter, Jimmy “The Mouth of the South” Hart, Bobby “The Brain” Heenan, Rowdy Roddy Piper, etc.)
- Headbanger’s Ball (tributes to various heavy metal anthems and cliches)
- Phil Madeira’s Flippin’ Keyboards (sordid ditties by the one and only songwriter extraordinaire)
- Uncle Remus’ Unrighteous Riddles (loads of double entendres)
- Poetry’s Royal Promenade (ribald stanzas often hosted by Percy Persimmons)
- The Stammer/Stutter Debate Team (not in very good taste—but insanely funny)
- Billy Grahams’ Sermonettes for Sinners
- Insipid Interludes w/ Jeff, the Angriest Evangelical in the World (some serious rants)
- Las Vegas Lounge Lizards (featuring memorable performances such as “Don’t Go Changin’,” “Love Ya Like a Rock,” “Babe,” “You’re The Only Reason,” “Torn Between Two Lovers,” “Shannon,” “Two Outta Three Ain’t Bad,” “Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady,” and “Don’t Fight the Feelin’” among others)
- Bobby T’s Hazardous Waste Clean-up Crew (usually in the aftermath of a large party)
- A Flatulence Festivale (you could almost smell how good these were)
- An Amish Eubonics Seminar (quite bent)
- Bong Water! (odes to stoners, reefers, snort-mongers, and waste-oids)
- Feeders Anonymous (detailed descriptions of our culinary mannerisms)
- Johnny Dangerously’s Swearing School (featuring variations on “fargin’ icehole!” “sons of bastages!” “Shhhhell!” “Judas H. Priest!” “brickin’ brackin’ frickin’ frackin’ son of a badger pup!” and many more)
- He-man Pink Steel (our resident porno star)
- Whinin’ Simon LeBron from Duran Duran butchering numerous pop classics
- Epic Tales (Tails?) of Buddy the Cat (perhaps the strangest of all our campaigns)
- Karl the Latvian Love King (indescribably bad)
- Sex: Fact and Fiction for Teenagers. Excerpts from a 1957 handbook put out by the Southern Baptists. What made each portion unique was that it was ever so slightly edited and read by “Walt Disney Documentary Guy” (ya know—overly enthusiastic and condescending). Here’s an example:
There are some girls who feel that in order to be popular they must do the “expected” thing. Oddly enough, most boys don’t expect anything. Even the boy with the reputation of a “wolf” has a basic respect for girls, in spite of all his bragging. How far he will go depends entirely on how far the girl lets him go. If he thinks the girl is “easy,” he’ll take advantage of it; but if the girl lets him know she’s not “fast,” the boy will accept it, in most instances gracefully, and end up having more respect for her. However, sometimes girls, you need a baseball bat.
Each boy reacts differently to a baseball bat. You’ve probably had a date with a boy you didn’t know too well, and been told by your girl friends the next day that this boy takes girls out for one purpose—to eat rhubarb pie. This may have come as a big surprise, since he never made a false move. As a matter of fact, you thought he was a very nice boy, and you rather liked the rhubarb pie. You had such a good time, you were hoping he’d ask you for another date. Don’t worry, he probably will…and we will to if you leave your name and number for Dale, Karl, or Mark.
- Others from this sex handbook would be narrated by two flaming fellas who massively over-enunciated and pranced about the text (I usually voiced one of these, and, will have to admit, I’m awfully good at it….hmmmmm). For example:
Whatever you do, dress like a girl. Blue jeans and slacks are all right for picnics, horse back riding, cycling, and other activities when a dress might be a disadvantage; but don’t wear them all the time. The same goes for shorts. Use your head when you choose what to wear.
Clothes should be kept clean, too. Wearing a soiled blouse, skirt, or sweater does not add to your attractiveness. This goes for under clothing, too. Even though they are hidden from your outer wear, good grooming makes it a must for them to always be fresh and clean. Make a habit of washing your panties, bras, and stockings before you go to bed at night...they’ll be fresh and clean in the morning.
Don’t overuse cosmetics. Actually you should not use anything but lipstick; pancake makeup, rouge, powder, and all the other things that are supposed to make you look “radiant” often do just the opposite. If you do use a little make-up for dress-up occasions, use it sparingly and make sure you choose the proper shades. Unusual or off color shades may be used to advantage by older men, but they’re not for you. However, Mark, Karl or Dale could be just right for you if you’ll just leave ‘em a little messagy thingy.
Alas, we’re now in an age where—in most cases--folks no longer want to listen to a 30 or 60 second message. But, it was a fun period while it lasted. Now you can move on to your next blog at the sound of the tone……….(wait for it!)…………………………………*beeeeep*
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Sunday, October 25, 2009
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Category: Life
Nelson Mandela is a South African political activist, co-winner of Nobel Peace Prize with F.W. de Klerk in 1993, and in 1994 he became the first President of South Africa to be elected in fully-representative democratic elections. Previous to that, he had been imprisoned unjustly for 27 years because of his anti-apartheid views and activism to bring about social equity for all in South Africa.
Mandela's inauguration brought together the largest number of Heads of State since the funeral of US President John F. Kennedy in 1963. After he retired the presidency in 1999, he went on to become an advocate for a variety of social and human rights organizations and greater international cooperation. He is one of the world's most visible figures regarding race relations and is a symbol to many people of the struggle for racial equality.
Here are some of my favorite Mandela quotes. Let me know which ones resonate with you.
A good head and a good heart are always a formidable combination.
After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb.
No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.
For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.
I detest racialism, because I regard it as a barbaric thing, whether it comes from a black man or a white man.
There can be no keener revelation of a society's soul than the way in which it treats its children.
I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.
There is no such thing as part freedom.
If there are dreams about a beautiful South Africa, there are also roads that lead to their goal. Two of these roads could be named Goodness and Forgiveness.
Man's goodness is a flame that can be hidden but never extinguished.
If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart.
If you want to make peace with your enemy, you have to work with your enemy. Then he becomes your partner.
In my country we go to prison first and then become President.
The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.
There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires.
There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.
We must use time wisely and forever realize that the time is always ripe to do right.
It is better to lead from behind and to put others in front, especially when you celebrate victory when nice things occur. You take the front line when there is danger. Then people will appreciate your leadership.
Money won't create success, the freedom to make it will.
As I have said, the first thing is to be honest with yourself. You can never have an impact on society if you have not changed yourself... Great peacemakers are all people of integrity, of honesty, but humility.
True reconciliation does not consist in merely forgetting the past.
We are really appalled by any country, whether a superpower or a small country, that goes outside the U.N. and attacks independent countries, No country should be allowed to take the law into their own hands.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
It always seems impossible until its done.
A new society cannot be created by reproducing the repugnant past, however refined or enticingly repackaged.
I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.
 | Currently listening:
The Whirlwind
By Transatlantic
Release date: 2009-10-26 |
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Sunday, October 18, 2009
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Category: Life
The last 5 days I’ve been driving through Indiana and Kentucky. Seeing the riveting display of autumn’s final shout before giving-in to the inevitable next cycle of life got me thinking…
Last April, these hills became filled with greens, mostly very similar to each other. Young buds of rebirth and youthfulness. As spring evolved into summer, the trees were reaching skyward in their most accelerated time of growth, striving to gain more sunlight than their neighbors. The leaves are nature’s food factories, soaking up water and carbon dioxide to generate sugar. Through the energy provided by light, “photosynthesis” as I recall from my biology classes, there is spectacular advancement.
Besides the warming light, however, there needs to be moisture. It can come via glooming sprinkles, or frightening torrential downpours. It can sometimes hang thick in the air as sweltering humidity. It can appear as clammy, cold dew throughout each evening. What often appears as too much of it can accumulate as puddles, or bogs, or floodwaters overreaching nearby stream banks. Even the freezing snow and ice of the previous winter helped strengthen the roots and hardwood portions when everything else appeared dead on the outside. Unless the water becomes stagnant and inundates a tree, however, there can rarely be such a thing as too much moister. The growth pattern drinks it up, and stores it for future needs.
We all know that water can be a fun diversion for a time—but after a few hours of fun, it becomes a frustration. Often we are more interested in the happiness that it can bring in shorter increments, but forget that the ongoing consistency, even relentlessness of moisture is what is needed, along with the warmth and energy of God’s illumination, to help sustain us in times to come when the inevitable cycle of life will not provide the same levels. Perhaps this is the depth and meaning of joy—the felt knowing that we are being cared for, even when it may not make us happy, or even feels a bit uncomfortable at particular stages.
During fall and then winter, there is not enough light nor water for photosynthesis to continue. The trees will rest, and live off the food they stored during the summer. The bright greens fade away, and we begin to see yellow and orange colors. Small amounts of these have been in the leaves all along—we just can’t see them in the summer because they are covered up with green chlorophyll of youth and discovery.
The combination of all these circumstances—when the sun’s warmth and moisture both lessen--leads to a much different kind of blooming—the fabulous fall foliage.
We can see the uniqueness of each type of trees’ transformation. American Chestnuts, 6 types of Oaks, Aspens, Sugar Maples and 4 other Maple cousins, Dogwoods, Sassafras, Black Cherries, Choke Cherries, Fire Cherries, Elms, Buckeyes, Ashes, Sycamores, a quintet of different Hickories, and Beeches, to name but a few. Like snowflakes and fingerprints, no two are alike. And each one is fully realized in its own way. It is as if they are celebrating all that they have learned and endured that summer. Their maturity and character on glorious display.
This final fling of exuberance comes out in scarlet, tope, mauve, royal purple, dandelion yellow, even some like orange sherbet. Hillside mosaics featuring brass, cranberry, blood red, various chocolates, magenta, osage, and a sprinkling in a sea foam tint. Pastiches of burnt sienna, maroon, salmon, lavender, and goldenrod. Fruity pigments like peach, lemon, plum, Granny Smith apple, tangerine, banana, watermelon, mango, and lime. Some licked in flaming yellows with torched, fire-engine red edges. I even saw the Oakland A’s uniforms from the early 70’s dappled in some groves. Like a fluorescent Peter Max painting, the kaleidoscope of color pulsates with each gust of wind, and mutates in various hues and combinations with each passing day. If it had been a dry summer, none of this would look like it does now.
This all adds to my pondering about the cycles of my life. Maybe it’s due to the fact I’m about to celebrate another birthday, or that I recently finished my Last Will and Testament. Perhaps it all the time I spend with my aging father in a retirement community with other souls in their final glory, or that I’m still grieving the loss of four friends in the past 10 months. The wind and cold will finally have their say, no matter how hard we wish otherwise. When we see a few straggling leaves that are hanging on, it is not attractive. By not letting go, we end up embarrassing ourselves and the dignity of our role. In the process, we miss out on the deeper joy that comes from knowing this is all part of the plan.
Even in the regular, tighter cycles of our lives when the winter winds begin to blow, it’s best to bow in humility. And we also need to yield for our cleansing, our scrubbing away. This can only happen when we are stripped. Hopefully, with each new round we learn to acquiesce to the de-clothing with a willing heart. That surrender is part of the joy. Like an infant who often initially kicks and screams before a bath, but then can be cooing as her mother carefully washes and wipes away to prepare for re-dressing.
Soon enough, there will a fresh robing in vibrant greens come next spring. And hence, the cycle continues. So I want to enjoy the colorful celebration of what I’ve experienced this year. Some dark, murky, and even dank colors for sure. But those are the ones that give perspective for the exuberant tones. Beauty, what Aristotle called “the magnitude of truth,” comes from these contrasts. And the deepest joy results in an unmatched vista.
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Sunday, October 11, 2009
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Category: Religion and Philosophy
I was absolutely thunderstruck by the extraordinary reality of the man I found in the
Gospels. I discovered a man who was almost continually frustrated. His frustration leaps out of virtually
every page: “What do I have to say to you? How many times do I have to say it? What do I have to do to
get through to you?” I also
discovered a man who was frequently sad and sometimes depressed, frequently
anxious and scared…a man who was terribly, terribly lonely, yet often
desperately needed to be alone. I
discovered a man so incredibly real than no one could have made him up.
It occurred to me then that if the Gospel writers had been
into PR and embellishment, as I had assumed, they would have created the kind
of Jesus that three quarters of Christians still seem to be trying to
create…portrayed with a sweet, unending smile on His face, patting little
children on the head, just strolling the earth with this unflappable,
unshakable equanimity…But the Jesus of the Gospels—who some suggest is the
best-kept secret of Christianity—did not have much “peace of mind,” as we
ordinarily think of “peace of mind” in the world’s terms, and insofar as we can
be His followers, perhaps we won’t either.
-M.
Scott Peck, Further Along The Road Less
Traveled....
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Saturday, October 03, 2009
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Category: Music
Since the Album format seems to be on its last gasp this year, here is my tribute to the cherished memory of 45-90 minutes of uninterrupted listening entertainment.
My “Most Listened To” Album List is not what I consider the “Best” nor are they “Most Critically Acclaimed” albums, just the ones I’ve listened to the most. To make it more interesting, the List is limited to just one album from each artists, and “Greatest Hits” compilations are included. I currently have close to 2,000 in my collection, and at one point it was over 6,000…so there are a lot to choose from.
You’ll also notice a fair amount of “Live” albums. Since I have been a concert connoisseur for 35 years, I often find that an artist’s ability to perform their best songs in concert and to relate to their audience is even more moving to me.
So here is my current Top 60 in no particular order (this list might look different a year from now depending on my mood):
Bruce Springsteen and E Street Band “Live From New York”
Yes “Yesshows”
U2 “Joshua Tree”
King’s X “Gretchen Goes to Nebraska”
Midnight Oil “Diesel and Dust”
David Wilcox “East Asheville Hardware”
Transatlantic “Live from Europe”
Don Henley “End of the Innocence”
Rossini “Collection of Overtures”
Kansas “Two for the Show” (2008 reissue)
John Hiatt “Slow Turning”
Rick Elias and the Confessions
Genesis “Seconds Out”
Police “Regatta de Blanc”
Rush “Different Stages”
Mussorgsky “Pictures at an Exhibition”
Gentle Giant “Live: Playing the Fool”
Dixie Dregs “California Screamin’”
Mark Heard “Second Hand”
Squeeze “A Round and a Bout”
Led Zeppelin “Houses of the Holy”
Cheap Trick “In Color”
Roy Buchanan “Livestock”
Black Sabbath “Master of Reality”
Emerson, Lake, and Palmer “Trilogy”
Monte Montgomery “Live at Caravan of Dreams”
Muse “Absolution”
Cream “Wheels of Fire”
Liszt “Hungarian Rhapsodies”
Simon and Garfunkle “Greatest Hits”
Resurrection Band “Colours”
Focus “3”
Deep Purple “Made in Japan”
Duncan Brown “The Wild Places”
Allman Brothers Band “Live at the Fillmore”
Jeff Beck “Blow by Blow”
Steely Dan “Greatest Hits”
Journey “Live in Houston ‘81”
The Who “Who’s Next”
Supertramp “Crisis? What Crisis?”
Jesus Christ Superstar (brown album)
Thin Lizzy “Fighting”
Crack the Sky “Live Sky”
Bob Bennett “Lord of the Past”
Peter Gabriel “So”
Chagall Guevara “Chagall Guevara”
Frank Marino and Mahogany Rush “Live”
Bob Dylan “Oh Mercy”
Bruce Cockburn “Waiting for a Miracle”
Pat Travers “Makin’ Magic”
J. Giels Band “Full House”
Daniel Lanois “Acadie”
Jethro Tull “Live Busting Out”
Shawn Phillips “Transcendence”
Queen “Live Killers”
The Waiting “Blue Belly Sky”
Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band “Nine Tonight”
Phil Keaggy “The Wind and the Wheat”
The Beatles “1967-1970”
Chicago “At Carnegie Hall”
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Wednesday, September 23, 2009
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Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
Bumpersticker Man
One of the more thought-provoking documentaries, and certainly the most relevant to our agitated national discourse, finally hits the theaters this weekend. Lord Save Us From Your Followers was produced, directed, and MC'd by independent film maker Dan Merchant, and is based on his book by the same name.
Having read the book, and seen the movie at least 6 times (I own an advance DVD), I can highly recommend it as stimulating towards an honest conversation that we need to have in our culture. I'm not the only one who thinks so...it has been recognized at 5 film festivals (winning awards at several), and has received glowing reviews from USA Today, Chicago Sun Times, The Today Show, Relevant Magazine, and many more.
For the the cinema trailer, check this out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJRvUtL2H58
The film opens Sept. 25 in Nashville, Atlanta, Houston, Portland, San Antonio, and Seattle. I'm getting a group together this Sunday (Sept. 27) for the 4:55 PM show at Green Hills Cinema in Nashville. We'll meet in the upper lobby at 4:30. Let me know if you would like to join us, and then have discussion over coffee afterwards.
For more specific info on the film, locations/show times in other cities, press, etc. go to the official website:
http://www.lordsaveusthemovie.com/
Here's an overview:
If you were to meet ten average Americans on the street, nine of them would say they believe in God. So why is the Gospel of Love dividing America?
Dan Merchant put on his bumper-sticker-clad jumpsuit and decided to find the reason. After talking with scores of men and women on streets all across the nation, and also interviewing many well-known activists in today’s “Culture Wars,” Dan realized that the public discussion of faith doesn’t have to be contentious.
From its opening Talking Heads sequence through its touching look at faith in action, Lord Save Us From Your Followers is a fast-paced, highly engaging documentary that explores the collision of faith and culture in America while opening up this important conversation to all of us.
As discussion of religion floods the media, the rhetoric is divisive, hyper, and most often, angry. With humor more common in a comedy-sketch program than a documentary, Merchant brings the sensibilities of someone who is deeply concerned with how his faith is being represented by others. Lord Save Us provides a provocative, funny, and redemptive discussion that is sure to continue long after the credits run.
Merchant sits down for interviews with well-known people on all sides of this great divide, including best-selling author William Paul Young (The Shack), comedian/politician Al Franken, former “Religious Right” Senator Rick Santorum, noted “liberal evangelical” Tony Campolo, conservative radio host Michael Reagan, and racial reconciliation activist Dr. John Perkins.
If that’s not divergent enough, other features include Bono, Rick Warren, Bill Maher, James Dobson, George Clooney, Jerry Falwell, Stephen Colbert, Ann Coulter, Pat Robertson, Lewis Black, Tony Perkins, Monty Python, and even Stewie from “Family Guy”… along with many others
Add to that the nationwide man-on-the-street interviews with “Bumper-Sticker Man,” the Culture Wars game show, the “renaming” of St. Paul to New Leningrad, and a controversial and moving “Confession Booth” at Portland’s Gay Pride celebration, and Lord Save Us From Your Followers delves into religious hot-button issues with candor, humor, and balance.
Engaging, unpredictable, and challenging, Lord, Save Us From Your Followers will change the way you talk about faith!
Here's an interview with Dan Merchant on the Today Show:
http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/24047551#24047551
Remember, let me know if you'd like to join our group for Sunday afternoon's showing. : )
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Sunday, September 20, 2009
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Category: Music
The cloudless skies above Chicago’s lakefront were finally darkened for a night time launch of U2’s mammoth 360 Tour. Massive not only in its ambition (planned for 130 shows in at least 30 countries on 6 continents), but also the scope of the presentation itself. The first of the North American shows had reached orbit the night before at refurbished Soldier Field. Critics had claimed when the venerable 75 year old stadium got its facelift and reconstruction five years ago that it appeared that a mongoloid flying saucer had landed on top of the Romanesque colonnades. Now, that image was made complete with the gargantuan “Claw” stage that the lads from Ireland had to present this latest globetrotting escapade.
Four billowing smoke machines each stationed at the base of one of the muscular legs began dusting the stage beneath, hearkening blast-off of a Saturn rocket at Cape Kennedy. The image of a 4 story-high clock emanated from the 54 ton cylindrical screen hovering overhead, and the familiar strains of David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” seared through the roar of the crowd, which quickly began singing along…
This is ground control to Major Tom
You’ve really made the grade
They hadn’t even entered the view of the 70,000 in attendance, and the coliseum was already up for grabs. The Dubliners have never been wont for the dramatic entrance. It reminded me of 28 years ago when I saw them just a few miles away at the storied Park West nightclub with 600 others packed inside, and the pimply-faced quartet was led up to the stage by the 20 members of the Chicago Irish Bagpipe Ensemble to the strains of “Amazing Grace.” Then, as on this night, it was drummer and group founder Larry Mullen Jr. who came on stage first, pounding out the initial drum line of the opening number. Nearly 3 decades ago it was “Gloria” from their just-releasedOctober album, and the band exploded into an evening of gut-wrenching honesty and praise. This night it was “Breathe,” considered by many the defining song of their 12th album, No Line on the Horizon. And, once again, it foreshadowed 150 minutes of soul-searching and celebration that only U2 and their fans can deliver.
As the accompanying instrumentation built up over Mullen’s creative pattern, the other members appeared out of the darkness. First bassist Adam Clayton, then guitarist The Edge, and finally Bono sauntered up to center stage, grabbing the mic with his bravado and…it was on.
Walk out, into the sunburst street
Sing your heart out
I’ve found grace inside a sound
I found grace, it’s all that I found
And I can breathe, breathe now
In the 14 previous times seeing the band, I had only been on the main floor once—that for one of the two nights at Sun Devil Stadium in Phoenix for the Rattle and Humfilming in 1987. This time around, with friends Debbie, Paul, and Amy joining me on the trek northward from Tennessee, we arrived early enough a few hours before show time to take possession of a prime spot in the G.A. standing area just 150 feet dead center back from the primary stage, and 40 feet from the outer ring walkway that encircled the rest. The enormous sound and lighting rig that rose 14 stories was directly above us. We were going to get stereophonic sound and one of the best views of the entire undertaking of anyone in attendance.
Even though we were exhausted from 8 hours of wandering about the sights of Grant Park before the show, the mixture of the our fellow attendees’ elation and exuberant outpouring from the world’s biggest band was going to keep us positively poised the rest of the night.
The guys started with quadruple shot of material from the new CD, with the whooping and wailing of the euro trash dance rhythms of the title track coming next, then the frenetic “Get On Your Boots” with it’s “Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee” Wesleyan hymn intro, and then their own old-school-sounding praise number, “Magnificent,” letting us know that this was not a band satisfied with being a touring jukebox of golden oldies.
After Bono greeted the crowd in earnest for the first time, Edge began the familiar guitar signature of “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For,” a tune not often played by the band in the past 4 American tours. It sent the crowd into a frenzy as lead singer implored “It’s time to go to church!” and everyone gladly came along. It was one of those classic U2 moments where the throng was louder than the band in their vocal accompaniment.
You wouldn’t think things could get livelier, but when the raucous fuzz tone/wah-wah peddle distortion of “Elevation” began and Bono teased us yelling “We’re gonna turn you loose now!” However, the stadium needed no encouragement as the throng began to shake while jumping and bopping along. Even the top row of the furthest balcony was on its collective feet boogying to the infectious groove.
What followed next was unique in U2 annals…the debut live reading of a song they had written 14 years previously, “Your Blue Room.” Composed and performed for a little known Brian Eno Original Soundtracks album under the moniker of Passengers, this was a hauntingly beautiful melody that had footage from a Russian cosmonaut who recited some of the lyrics as poetry from his weightless space station on the prodigious screen. But due to its obscurity, it served as the only misstep of the night, really slowing down the thrust that had been forged in the first 35 minutes.
One of my faves from the new album, “Unknown Caller,” ensued. The benevolent lyrics of a redeemer calling out to those who would listen punctuated the mammoth shield, prompting those not as familiar with it to sing along with the triumphant music…
Re-start and re-boot yourself
You’re free to go
Shout for joy if you get the chance
Password, you enter here, right now
You know your name so punch it in
Hear me; cease to speak that I may speak
Shush now
Then don’t move or say a thing
After two lesser-known songs in a row it might prove difficult to regain momentum for most groups in a venue that huge, but when they lurched into an aggressive—even angry—rendition of “Until the End of the World,” the joint came to life again. This song may be the preeminent example of U2’s reckless rock’n’roll abandon, fueled by the imaginary conversation between Judas and Jesus on the night of his betrayal. As the raging guitar solo punched the early autumn air towards the end of the piece, Bono sprinted several hundred yards around the circumference of the outer ring only to symbolically collapse under the weight of God’s relentless grace…as if to say we can’t outrun His love.
As he writhed on the walkway, breathing heavily into his mic while the crowd’s bluster died down, it was one of those “what is he gonna do now?” moments that make Bono so special. He eventually calmed from a tortured, tensed demeanor to laying flat on his back with his arms outstretched in release and acceptance as Edge came walking across one of the motorized bridges from the main stage. He was gently picking on an acoustic guitar the opening sequence of another not-oft-played number from the Zooropa album. But the gathering sang along boldly to the duet that the two performed of “Stay (Faraway So Close),” and it came across as a plea from an adoring father towards his prodigal to come home…
If I could stay, the day would keep its trust
Stay with the demons that you drowned
Stay with the spirit that I found
Stay and the night would be enough
It’s three o’clock in the morning
It’s quiet and there’s no one around
Just the bang and the clatter
As an angel runs to ground
This led into a trio of songs where the fantastic computer screen above the group took over and became like a fifth member. On the rarely played title track from their fourth album, The Unforgettable Fire, the orchestral stabs and Bono’s falsetto perfectly matched the wondrous effects where the 200 foot cylinder slowly slid downward, unfolding like a slinky showing over 1,000 individual elongated hexagonical panels each filled with hundreds of LED lights. Deep violets, brilliant scarlet, and sunrise gold washed across while blending with images of the members as they played (these images along with many others are featured in my U2 Photo Album on this profile).
When Edge began the shimmering six string line of “City of Blinding Lights,” the rig revealed even more tricks with thousands more red LED lights on the inside of the cone creating a swirling effect while the outer panels blinked with a cornucopia of every imaginable color cascading downward. Bono pulled a 9 year-old boy from the crowd and strode, hand-in-hand, the length of the walkway, emphasizing the song’s message of hope for the future despite its many challenges.
Then, with Bono ready to propel us with the now famous verbal count-off of “Vertigo,” a rowdy rendering once again had the triple-decked amphitheater rocking, and images of the band swirling at racetrack speed around the humongous display. I can only imagine how dizzying it looked to those further back in the bowl.
Not letting the foot off the accelerator, they careened into a manic disco house mix version of “I’ll Go Crazy If I Don’t Crazy Tonight” complete with lots of call-backs from Bono and the fans. Larry donned a bongo with a strap that allowed him to march the perimeter pounding away on the backbeat.
As the crowd caught its breath, the huge screen turned fluorescent green and various images of the people’s protest and uprising in Iran were melded together. Bono then dedicated “this freedom song to our brothers and sisters in Iran who need our encouragement” as Larry began the staccato drill-corps pattern to “Sunday Bloody Sunday.” U2 has continually made this song relevant by tying-in with the sadly never-ending parade of political unrest that smothers parts of our world. Originally written for the conflicts in Northern Ireland, it has also been employed to spotlight South African apartheid, Serbian atrocities, the injustice of Darfur Sudan, the Contra/Sandinista battles of Central America, and the Iraqi occupation. And it rings just as true with each telling.
Serving as a gentle segue, Bono reminded us of the band’s long-standing relationship with Amnesty International, and spoke with deep concern over the unjust jailing of popularly elected Prime Minister of Burma, Aung San Suu Kyi for the past two decades. The tender, sad strains of MLK were sent out as a prayer of remembrance to her.
Immediately thereafter, as the band initiated “Walk On” as a further exhortation to strive for justice, many in the crowd donned the cut-out cardboard mask of Aung San’s face that was included in the concert program. During the final choruses, over a hundred audience members that had been chosen encircled the stage with those same masks as silent sentinels reminding us that we can and should speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves, as Proverbs 31: 8 instructs us.
When the band left the stage, tens of thousands of cell phone were opened and held aloft, this century’s homage to the lit cigarette lighter from days gone by. As they returned, Bono asked the crowd to wave them even more to create a pulsating star field of witnesses, as we all sang in accord with the passionate plea…
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we’re not the same
We get to
Carry each other
Carry each other
One
As Bono is so talented at doing, he blended the end of that into an acapella version of “Amazing Grace” which every soul present gladly partook-in. After the second chorus, an image of Archbishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa appeared on the screen. He buoyed all of us with good news about progress on the continent because of the One Campaign—over 3 million lives being prolonged due to anti-retroviral drugs to combat HIV/AIDS, over 34 million new children now in school that weren’t five years ago, deaths from malaria being cut in half in Rwanda, Ethiopia, and Zambia due to mosquito nets and vaccines. It was not a guilt trip, but rather a positive report card to instill even more resolve that many of these issues do have answers if we’re willing to get involved.
When his visage began to fade, the monstrous screen transformed into an intense orange orb as the subterranean tones of U2’s most famous hymn began shaking the foundations. The stadium was awash in a glow that accompanies a new day, the sun rising, bringing life and hope equally to all, even those who are forgotten in places “Where the Streets Have No Name.” Over the decades this has become the signature song of their concerts, even though it was never a single. It never fails to bring tears as the ebullient, shiny notes of Edge’s Stratocaster, Adam’s driving bass, and a blast of nearly atomic light bathes the arena and signals a roar that continues unabated for nearly four minutes. In my mind, it is just a hint of what heaven will be like…
And when I go there
I go there with you
It’s all I can do
After a three minute standing ovation, the boys return for their second encore, the stage enveloped in deep purple mist as Bono came out with a jacket laced with hundreds of tiny laser red lights punctuating the air with needle-like shafts of light. They pounced on another song long-ignored from their catalogue, the infectious “Ultraviolet” from Achtung Baby, as the iconoclastic Irishman grabbed the illuminated microphone swing hanging from the scaffolding above and swayed, twisted, and floated back and forth across the ellipse.
This led into what became the world’s largest sing-along for “With or Without You,” the stadium steeped in white light for the stratospheric choruses and everyone singing full-throat to the enigmatic refrain.
Finally, as the pulsating horde began to subside, the haunting chord progression of the underrated “Moment of Surrender” from the new album set the tone for the evening’s benediction. A soulful, Peter Gabriel-esque groove and melody that beckons a heartfelt petition…
It’s not if I believe in love
But if love believes in me
Oh, believe in me
At the moment of surrender
I folded my knees
Like many other elements of the concert, it was not an expected closing, but it worked on many levels. We all felt full and drained at the same time as we exited the arena floor, damp from sweat despite the 68 degree evening and no humidity. It didn’t dawn on us until we were striding on the two mile walk back to the car that they hadn’t played “Pride, In the Name of Love,” “New Year’s Day,” “Bad,” “Mysterious Ways,” “Desire,” or “40” to name a few of concert staples...but they were not missed. You have to hand it to U2: they are never afraid to try things, to stretch and even rip the envelope, while simultaneously helping engender community through the bedrock of so many tunes that have become part of our collective consciousness.
U2 has already played to over 2 million people in 28 sold-out stadiums, mostly in Europe. There are a few scattered seats available in some of the remaining 16 shows at stadia across North America on this second leg of the tour. As I mentioned earlier, there are plans for about 85 more world-wide starting in the winter of 2010, with perhaps as many as 40 of those being on this continent. If you get the chance, definitely go. It should go down in history as the biggest tour of all-time as far as attendance, and it will be embedded into your memory banks forever as well.
(44 photos I snapped from the show are featured in my photo profile under "U2 360 Tour")
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