"Did He Ever Return? No, He Never Returned, and His Fate Is Still Unlearned..."

... Oh, poor Charlie...

... He will live forever 'neath the streets of Boston...

... He's the man who never returned.

"MTA" by the Kingston Trio

Walking... and walking... and walking...

Sheesh! Someone needs to brush!

Okay, right up front, I'm not a zombie fan. I've found the fad a bit overblown and ridiculous; the monsters, as they may be, are usually slow, they don't have any character, and the only thing you can expect to see when they are on the big or little screen, with much depth, is the holes they inflict on a victim's cranium. They rank up there with serial killers, for me. They were human, and still maintain human components, just in a slowly decaying fashion. Usually their dialogue consists of three letters out of the entire twenty-six we have in the English canon. (Hmm... I wonder if the Japanese zombies are able to say more things?)

The whole post-apocalyptic element of a zombie story tends to be so depressing and overwhelming, I'd generally rather leave the medication I'd need to sit through on of these movies in the cabinet and read a good book about giant monsters or something.

Now, how exactly do I explain cramming all four seasons of The Walking Dead into my sparse free time, finishing off the last episode a mere week or two after watching the first? It’s certainly not acquiring a taste for gore, as this show has plenty of it; it’s also not a cheery view of an undead population taking over an increasingly unstable world, as there isn’t room for much to be upbeat about (especially when a beloved character is killed unexpectedly, which causes frequent anxiety).

In other words, I don’t know how to explain it.

Let me say, though, I like the show. Part of it is because – okay, hold your breath, because I’m pretty sure you’ve heard this more than a few times – Walking Dead isn’t really about the dead; it’s about the living. Oh, you know zombies inhabit a huge part of the storyline, and you can bet your bottom dollar there’s going to be blood. But the show, as a whole, is about human beings; living, breathing human beings. The show is about living, breathing, people and how they handle the tragedy that has befallen them. Ironically, it’s more interesting than I’m making it sound.

You know what struck me, though? It took me a few episodes before I realized this was happening, but as we follow a small band of survivors through a horrific and increasingly dangerous world, I found myself increasingly anxious whenever they encountered other survivors; even more so than when they’d run into the bloodthirsty undead! At least with the rotting flesh-eaters (No, I’m not a vegetarian…) you know generally what to expect – there aren’t very good at manipulating a situation. With living, breathing people… well, that’s a different story altogether.

If you are faced with a zombie, you figure out pretty quickly (learning from other’s tragic mistakes) you need to go for the brain. If you are faced with a human, the kill or no kill, murder or self-defense question mucks up what you do. There are characters on the show who don’t feel the need to pause on this philosophical issue; they see what they want and they murder to get it. The survivors you follow on their journey are a little more upstanding, and tend to live to move on, but not always.

I don’t know exactly what I was setting out to do when I sat down to write. I definitely don’t want you going to watch The Walking Dead because I said I liked it. At the same time, I hope no one continues to judge and decide on the show, like I did, without offering if some sort of merit in our increasingly diverse and sometimes messed-up entertainment culture. I was surprised to find a close friend was watching the show – someone who generally wouldn’t watch anything scarier than an M. Night Shyamalan (and those can be scary, but nothing like this) movie – suggesting I give it a shot. I’m glad I did, but not sure I could ever justify it. It’s just a good, creepy, tense, and unpredictable story. I think that’s why I like it, but I’m not sure…

Big and Scary = FUN!

I love a good giant monster story. No, the story isn't necessarily giant, but the monster is. I mean the movie... oh, never mind.

Anyway (you'll probably see this word a lot; it's just one of those words I use far too often), There have been a few great films in the last few years that I thought I'd mention. Why? Not sure. Probably the same reason I enjoy heavy metal. And like music, I'm not interested in extreme movies; not a fan of gore or over-the-top antics; I just like a good monster.

After seeing a recent preview for the new Godzilla movie, I think it just got the juices flowing...

Pacific Rim is probably the most recent movie of this category; definitely not one of Del Toro's best flicks, but a lot of fun watching immense robotic weapons defending humanity against otherworldly dinosaurs! The acting, as one friend pointed out, isn't great, but that's not generally why I watch movies about monsters. Pacific Rim is kind of a cross between the Tranformers movies and the Godzilla franchise, but with arguably better acting than the former and cooler special effects than the later.

Another one worth mentioning is the oddly humorous Irish import, Grabbers. Something has fallen from the skies near an island town off the coast of Ireland. Very original, I know, but the story gets crazier and funnier. 

The creatures that are discovered are relatively small and would land somewhere between a starfish and a Pompeii Worm, but obvioiusly things get worse as the town discovers these things grow quickly and enjoy non-inebriated flesh whenever they can get it! Sound corny? Well, yeah... it is... but it's also one of the funniest horror/monster movies I've seen in a while. Kind of a Shawn of the Dead-version of the kind of sci-fi invasion movies I remember seeing as a kid. Good Stuff...

Another import, this time from South Korea, is The Host. Unfortunately, there is another, bigger-name movie that came out a few years ago with the same name. Just look for the one with the humongous tail coming out of the water and you'll be alright; otherwise, all bets are off.

All of this got me thinking; and that can be a dangerous (or obnoxious) thing. Why do I like big monster movies? Why do I like any monster movies, for that matter?

Probably the greatest book Stephen King
has ever written... and it's non-fiction...

Stephen King wrote "We may only feel really comfortable with horror as long as we can see the zipper running up the monster's back, when we understand that we are not playing for keepsies." (Danse Macabre, p. 45)

I think this is a fundamental part of the good monster movie for me. I like knowing the zipper is going up the back, while at the same time getting completely sucked into a story. I don't think anything freaks me out (or turns me off) more, as a movie-goer, than a psychopathic killer. Okay, stories involving exorcisms and demons (from a Christian perspective) ... and zombies - Sorry, Brad and Shane - bother me, too, but nothing quite like the "real" evil that lives among us. 

If you think about it, an over-sized reptilian or simian creature that crushes cars underfoot and knocks down buildings in its path is far more fun than scary, generally. Man? A psychotic killer? Someone that looks like an ant from the fifteenth floor of a building? Freakin' creepy.... he could disappear at a moments notice and we wouldn't find him until long after it's too late for some innocent victim. A humongous creature from the sea... or outer-space... or some primitive undiscovered island? Where's he going to go?

Okay, I think I'm going off track a little, again. 

I grew up watching Godzilla movies on our little color TV, after school. If it wasn't Godzilla, it was Mothra... or Son of King Kong... or Mighty Joe Young. I had visions of a great monster coming up out of the ocean, on the horizon, when we'd go to the beach. I also remember thinking, once or twice, how cool... and scary!... it would be to see a giant reptilian form slowly arising behind the hills in the distance. I had similar thoughts about flying saucers, but that's another blog...

Big monsters are cool and fun. Large teeth, great appetites, and the mystery surrounding a massive creature that comes out of virtually nowhere? Good stuff.

Lately...

 I’m not sure how to start this post, so… well, I guess I just started it, huh?

I’ve lived a relatively uneventful life the last forty-years, or so, and yet I’m still surprised at how things change. Maybe (and I second-guess myself often) it’s taken me four decades to finally realize how life really is.

Heh, I wonder how I’ll respond to this writing when I’m in my sixties.

About a year ago, my wife and I (individually, mind you) realized that we were called to serve in sharing the Gospel overseas. I don’t put CALLED in quotes because I truly believe in what that word means; we were driven, for lack of a better word, by God, to serve people in Africa. Sierra Leone, Africa, specifically. We have been blessed with the opportunity to share the goodness of His grace with a people that believe very differently than we do.

We have been given strange and spicy food; yelled at for being white and privileged; begged by young men on the side of the road that were missing limbs. It has been an adventure, to say the least. Heck, Kristie has even been called “whitey” in a native dialect.

Along this, we also feel compelled to bring orphans from the small country of Sierra Leone into our lives and call them our own. To clarify, we plan to adopt. We have met numerous obstacles on this decision, and I can only imagine there are quite a few more to come.  

Well, first, let me clarify. We have had a desire to adopt since before we had our first child. In fact, we were in the beginning stages of adoption when we found out we were expecting Olivia. Needless to say, that put our plans on hold, to a degree, but is has always been a part of our “bigger” plan. After much discussion, much travel (we’ve been to Sierra Leone a combined five times since last February), and crunching the numbers – as small as our numbers tend to be, they still need crunching – we feel ready to advance in this goal.

Now, having been involved in The Raining Season (TRS – which runs an orphanage in Sierra Leone) for a few years, now, we have gotten to know quite a few dear friends who have chosen a similar path. Some have decided it was better to support the orphanage prayerfully and financially, but not adopt; others have adopted some of the most beautiful children from TRS; while the rest of us are in the process of pursuing this elusive prospect. We have watched friends’ heartbreaking challenge as the doors open… then close suddenly. We have friends just a few blocks away who have chosen to adopt four kiddos… AT ONCE! … and add them to the two they already had.

I’m still blown away at how well they’ve done with a family of eight in their tiny little house.

Okay, I’m going all over the place, again… I guess I wanted to note that we were prepared for some of the financial hardship that comes with pursuing adoption. We’ve read numerous books and articles about what it means to adopt and the challenges therein. We’ve even read some brutally honest blogs about what mothers are going through trying to raise a child with a differing family history before finding a stable home. It’s intense, and I’m a little nervous.

What I didn’t expect – at least, not to the extent we’ve been getting it, lately – was the amount of critique we’ve gotten from our own family. While we do experience some tension between family on occasion, I’ve always thought that was par-for-the-course, so to speak. What has surprised me, as of late, is the accusation that because of our desire to go to Africa and our desire to adopt, we have somehow caused a “rift” in the family. What’s even weirder is the fact we didn’t know there was any more tension than usual until we asked our family to support our decision to adopt.

NOTE: we did not ask for financial support, but it still came with a backlash of criticism and questioning our motives.

While it breaks our hearts, it does not even weaken our resolve to continue on this journey to expand our family. 

On a Wing and a Pra... Well, Almost Falling Off the Wing

I was thinking a lot this week about what to write. In fact, I have a little ditty on monster films and why I like them already in the works (don't worry, it's not that exciting), and have been thinking a lot about the music industry and how it affects a person's gray matter... in both good and not-so-cool-ways. But for now, I figure I'll just jot down some train of thought... and hope not to offend anyone.

If you didn't know, we got slightly more than dusted, here, with snow, since last night. I love watching it drift lazily to the ground; heck, I like watching it stream kamikaze-like when the wind's blowing hard enough! Either way, I love to watch it snow. 

Wait, what's this "it"? 

I hadn't thought much of that phrase until I wrote this. Watching it snow. Is the sky snowing? Is the air snowing? What is "it"? And why do I care?

There are so many things in this world, one can only assume, that are so far beyond our comprehension. I have had the opportunity/privilege to travel to many places throughout my relatively short lifespan, and the variety of culture and geographical layout is astounding; not to mention the amazing people I've met, or simply seen in passing. Anyone's who has been to the East Coast and the Mid-west can see the differences in our own country.

I had the great honor to go to Sierra Leone (in
Africa; just in case you're as geographically challenged as I) twice this past year, and it affected me on deeper levels than I could have imagined.

(… okay, a little distracted… watching Phantom of the Opera, performed in London, on PBS… Almost as fun as the first time we saw it here)

I’m back. 

Sierra Leone is one of the dirtiest, poorest, most broken and crowded places (in the city, that is) I could imagine. And, yet, it’s so beautiful. Vast landscapes and mountains shrouded in cloud. One can see the ocean lapping along a golden coast, while a short distance down the harbor, an entire village is built on a refuge heap. I was also told stories of distraught parents who would leave their disabled children on the beach to be taken out with the tide.

Beautiful Sara; now with her family in the U.S.

I am not completely sure of the whole story, but one of the little girls I got to meet on a few occasions was force-fed boiling water or some type of acid when she was small. It was obvious, when I met her, that she was what we would consider mentally delayed, but it was also transparent that this is a beautiful soul. She smiles and giggles, regardless of the scars visible on her chin; regardless, indeed, of the fact that she lived in such an impoverished country. Now, as of a handful of months ago, she has arrived in the States and lives with a loving adoptive family.

Similar to thi

s little girl are the history surrounding Sierra Leone. A beautiful country, with equally beautiful people, but also riddled with scars. 

Okay, enough babble, or hopefully I'm stopping before it becomes babble... anyway, have a good week!

A friend mentioned tonight that I've been pretty bad at keeping up a blog. I don't think he said I was 'terrible' at it, but if he did I wouldn't have argued...

The thing is, I've struggled with what a blog is supposed to be. I've also struggled with ADHD. Wait, did those two sentences rhyme? Heh, I'm off to a good start!

I've got numerous opinions that I could share on here, but they shift a bit as I get older, and things I really didn't like when I was younger (like Iron Maiden and Red Moscato), I enjoy quite a bit, now (in moderation, of course). I've also gotten a little soft on what I think of others opinions, even if I vehemently disagree; what I mean is I have a bit more respect for an opposing viewpoint... to the point that I cherish an opposing viewpoint on things if only so that I can better cultivate my thoughts even more.

Another thing is... wait, did I mention ADHD? Yep, I see it up there...

Another thing is, my brain has been increasingly erratic when it comes to getting my thoughts down on "paper," and I've been entrenched in getting a better education to get a better income and get better opportunity to adopt (not sure that last sentence made as much sense as it did in my head).

Besides, how many people actually read this thing? I can think of one person... and he's the one that reminded me that I'm terrible at this type of thing...