tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-194297302024-03-14T22:23:55.808+08:00Ethereal Eclectic Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.comBlogger388125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-1342357965043097722011-04-22T02:54:00.001+08:002017-04-13T05:30:32.037+08:00Collapsed Mosque<span data-jsid="text">Just was over at Masjid al Harun, Aaron's Mosque, near Bab Sefir. <br />
<br />
I did not realize that there was a whole giant area of the medina, only 100 years old or less, all shabi, all ghetto, up on the hill. I've often seen it from the Merenid Tomb<span class="text_exposed_show">s, but not known what I was looking at. It felt very shabi. It didn't look like the ancient medina I'm used to.<br />
<br />
I got there and found hundreds of people gathered, watching, curious. There were more ambulances and fire engines than I've ever seen in one place in Morocco, a country without wood buildings. I made my way to the corridon of police and soldiers, and asked the first if there was a way to volunteer. He directed me up the street, and I asked a second, saying I wanted to lift stones to help. He directed me on to a third, who said I could cross the street and enter into the area that was collapsed- they weren't letting the hundreds in. By this time I'd gotten the impression that it would be unlikely that they would need help. If so, wouldn't the hundreds watching have already taken care of it?<br />
<br />
The fourth policeman told me to go to the manager of the firemen, in the middle of the collapsed building, who had a crowd of firemen around him, listening to his orders. At this point I could get a good view of what everything looked like. It wasn't just a roof, but the entire central section of the mosque had collapsed. "Not one stone was laid upon another." Bent and twisted rubarb, previously holding the building up, purveyed all the scene, mixed with dust and pavement. On the left was a large gaping half building, reminding me of the OK City bombing, and on the right, another half-building, next to the minaret. Between the entire building.<br />
<br />
I'm told it happened during prayers. I imagine them in prayer, devoted, lifting up praise to God, and the great roar. They probably thought it was an earthquake. But this was so huge, so much devastation in this one spot, that it must have seemed as if Yom Qiyama the Judgment Day had finally arrived. I am shocked- and glad- that only three died, and not more. Had this been at the middle of prayer, there must have been many more that would have lost their lives.<br />
<br />
When I talked to the chief, he told me the work was all done. There was now no need for volunteers. No one was left trapped anymore, and three had died, allayrahemhum, but that was it. <br />
<br />
Please be in prayer for the families of the victims and the injured, and those who survived, who may be traumatized from these events. May God use this tragedy to draw them ever closer to him.</span></span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-12854453576494526912009-07-22T01:18:00.013+08:002009-10-11T04:46:32.855+08:00Return to the Land of Qat and Man-Skirts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4RXXgrRwPFqyjY4bYN1E8k3fwglkq1TXNh0LFVdEl-rTdjC5Je0e_zzqNliB-fhbWoC2wiLsbbQ6C-NXnpkCnG-A2zU4XIOIqVk7P1D7EEJcXTLjwQMqfw8M4MwrIxzEOvIt/s1600-h/2009_0802Image0015.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP4RXXgrRwPFqyjY4bYN1E8k3fwglkq1TXNh0LFVdEl-rTdjC5Je0e_zzqNliB-fhbWoC2wiLsbbQ6C-NXnpkCnG-A2zU4XIOIqVk7P1D7EEJcXTLjwQMqfw8M4MwrIxzEOvIt/s400/2009_0802Image0015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391066455913263666" border="0" /></a>Long ago, at the <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2005_12_01_archive.html">beginning of this blog</a>, I journeyed to an ancient land, to explore what might await me. Today I had the opportunity to return again.<br /><br />When I first visited, I took a picture at night of a new, great mosque being built. I accidentally used my flash, and one of the guard-soldiers made me delete the picture, on penalty of taking my camera. I went back to the hotel room and <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7422/1922/1600/DSCF0009.2.jpg">took the picture from a distance</a>- for there was no logical reason why they would deny people the right of taking pictures of a mosque that can be seen from everywhere in the city. This incredibly beautiful mosque, the President's Mosque, is the largest in Yemen and one of the largest in the world, and it is now completed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1QED6Y4w0y3xOsH19t1vE2HdrCsGyqizDysiB7eQm9EsmtG1tw29dFqK9L6RY8cbY911msuEkIc7UI0iF-0BH3QJE9njXaeMQ2MELPkN6iXqmX-FQpiENfhyphenhyphen-ESDPACEMlAL6/s1600-h/2009_0802Image0021.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 383px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1QED6Y4w0y3xOsH19t1vE2HdrCsGyqizDysiB7eQm9EsmtG1tw29dFqK9L6RY8cbY911msuEkIc7UI0iF-0BH3QJE9njXaeMQ2MELPkN6iXqmX-FQpiENfhyphenhyphen-ESDPACEMlAL6/s400/2009_0802Image0021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391065343271887058" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWoNNck-q60YNIZmBkSQpUCRNgNtb74mI20bA7JIfm-DoWGUe95huL58JqH8DD9LQ8w38CbnnlAC5pzn-AFYMZEKB7FhjpbMA4HSR5z0p20T6R298MGdFZXtK8WWpxUn4iR0nd/s1600-h/2009_0802Image0004.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; 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float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 387px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2oxG4xfom0_xuj9TRJvVRhH7OOKjZgIAcx_HmB-YU6U5zsw7eT-NU75pqLb98twAHKr8F0-palvuKUt-HKnTHRUYZy8FV2ukHc0w-LbrIbDb84ulofOtgx0fkVwSWVYMvxofO/s400/2009_0802Image0006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391057477154387938" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/avqzoMgP-ck&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/avqzoMgP-ck&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-38446036776539011772009-07-13T18:54:00.004+08:002009-07-14T13:43:30.791+08:00Paranormal PanoramaSuqutra is that Yemeni island that <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2006/10/new-direction.html">I would really love to get to one day</a>. Just now my Google Bots have delivered some radical new links. It's about as close as one can get without actually being there.<br /><object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,28,0" name="_360_krpano_name_939611" id="_360_krpano_id_939611" width="425" height="315"><param name="movie" value="http://www.360cities.net/javascripts/krpano/krpano.swf"><param name="quality" value="autohigh"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="flashvars" value="pano=http://www.360cities.net/krpano/external_embed/socotra-dragons-blood-trees-diksum.xml&epd=http://www.360cities.net/data/embed/plugin_data/socotra-dragons-blood-trees-diksum"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.360cities.net/javascripts/krpano/krpano.swf" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" quality="autohigh" 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/>http://www.360cities.net/image/wadi-geneb-socotra<br /><object classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,28,0" name="_360_krpano_name_612460" id="_360_krpano_id_612460" width="425" height="315"><param name="movie" value="http://www.360cities.net/javascripts/krpano/krpano.swf"><param name="quality" value="autohigh"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="flashvars" value="pano=http://www.360cities.net/krpano/external_embed/wadi-geneb-socotra.xml&epd=http://www.360cities.net/data/embed/plugin_data/wadi-geneb-socotra"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.360cities.net/javascripts/krpano/krpano.swf" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" quality="autohigh" 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codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,28,0" name="_360_krpano_name_612534" id="_360_krpano_id_612534" width="425" height="315"><param name="movie" value="http://www.360cities.net/javascripts/krpano/krpano.swf"><param name="quality" value="autohigh"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="flashvars" value="pano=http://www.360cities.net/krpano/external_embed/sand-dunes-socotra.xml&epd=http://www.360cities.net/data/embed/plugin_data/sand-dunes-socotra"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.360cities.net/javascripts/krpano/krpano.swf" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" quality="autohigh" flashvars="pano=http://www.360cities.net/krpano/external_embed/sand-dunes-socotra.xml&epd=http://www.360cities.net/data/embed/plugin_data/sand-dunes-socotra" width="425" height="315"></embed></object><br /><a title="panorama photos of Sand dunes, Socotra, Yemen on 360cities.net" href="http://www.360cities.net/image/sand-dunes-socotra">Sand dunes, Socotra, Yemen</a> in <a href="http://www.360cities.net/area/yemen" title="panoramic images from Yemen">Yemen</a>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-40347303596608308422009-07-13T10:21:00.022+08:002009-07-16T07:45:30.810+08:00Commitment and CallingFor all my dad's preaching, as an adult, I've never heard him. Well, that's not true. You can take the preacher out of the pulpit, but you can't take the pulpit out of the preacher. So let me start over.<br /><br />As an adult, I've never heard my dad preaching from the <span style="font-style: italic;">pulpit</span>. He preached often when I was a child, but I don't remember it. Today in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, was my first opportunity to experience this treat. And, perhaps your first opportunity as well.<br /><br />Video below is broken into five chunks, for uploading purposes. First off is my old babysitter singing:<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/X4FB9wU2Lcw&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/X4FB9wU2Lcw&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQzYAO4UImKCgEs6apanpJv7xnpu1DOWWtf-uVYaXoWVk-2Xfjvj6YRrSE12kM4wkQQgC4ftZD4KAp7QWA_qu2KOtJD9vBifUlxDTnyTJB-D2YgGq6Teapb2ceNZJbLSw8PzPe/s1600-h/Dad+Preaching+1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQzYAO4UImKCgEs6apanpJv7xnpu1DOWWtf-uVYaXoWVk-2Xfjvj6YRrSE12kM4wkQQgC4ftZD4KAp7QWA_qu2KOtJD9vBifUlxDTnyTJB-D2YgGq6Teapb2ceNZJbLSw8PzPe/s400/Dad+Preaching+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357766875660014098" border="0" /></a>The sermon began with my dad sharing how there was something really special going on at this church, Cornerstone Church, but some treat it like their favorite restaurant. They don't want to tell anyone else about it, because the chef and waiters won't pay as much attention to them if everyone goes there.<br /><br />Technical difficulties kept me from video recording the segment about the open air double-decker bus police chase, where our band would play righteous rock n'roll from the top of an open double-decker bus down the streets of London, with the bobbies trying to chase us down as the bus wove in and out of traffic, and then shutting us down. For a block, after which we would wait for the police to leave and start up again.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/slMo4kH_jZw&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/slMo4kH_jZw&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFmJ9qc7p0ve_g1jGmsjuMabB7OEY5H5USmV717edYVFMBAmxreWmMbrqB_bt-pZEl5YjanakdDTndiQDI8mXnlqWeC9aoTYC24WJxmrH3HsT904hbHU0DylTcCOIpus8ClMv/s1600-h/Dad+Preaching+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFmJ9qc7p0ve_g1jGmsjuMabB7OEY5H5USmV717edYVFMBAmxreWmMbrqB_bt-pZEl5YjanakdDTndiQDI8mXnlqWeC9aoTYC24WJxmrH3HsT904hbHU0DylTcCOIpus8ClMv/s400/Dad+Preaching+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357766883005902850" border="0" /></a><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/g-6pa1qx8pg&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/g-6pa1qx8pg&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PRtpfCPzSdA&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PRtpfCPzSdA&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfDhWbGo38D0B70YpikdU5ib9FqPc9ZensjIXXw3QXTK5D5w2rtDRKQfT7cbvgciZjNXQ-S1Xj_lXDbddzGx3KI62PNbB67qbFh6wyXsvxBOImGEFnpFOqbnljPESOFjJTcWe/s1600-h/Dad+Preaching+3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 249px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfDhWbGo38D0B70YpikdU5ib9FqPc9ZensjIXXw3QXTK5D5w2rtDRKQfT7cbvgciZjNXQ-S1Xj_lXDbddzGx3KI62PNbB67qbFh6wyXsvxBOImGEFnpFOqbnljPESOFjJTcWe/s400/Dad+Preaching+3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357766891544096642" border="0" /></a>At this point, I ran out of video, so there is an eight minute segment unrecorded. Here my dad discusses how God provides miraculously, and how the Jesus Movement changed Christian music forever. He goes to the invaluable contributions of the Steinkes (whose daughter is married to the pastor of Cornerstone Church) in the beginnings of the Jesus Movement in Wisconsin, and how they provided their best bed for my mother and father some nine months before I was born. The Holy Spirit works amazingly, and we are called to act in real faith. The economy will hopefully get worse. To hear more of this, go to the audio only link below.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jXM1OfyJA3A&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jXM1OfyJA3A&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />To hear full audio only, go to <a href="http://www.cornerstoneworld.net/lakecountry/audio/2009_0712-Lessons_From_The_Jesus_People.mp3">Cornerstone Church's MP3</a>.Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-26539055180723417902009-07-10T07:02:00.011+08:002009-07-10T08:33:46.025+08:00The Apostle Junia<span style=";font-family:TimesRoman;font-size:100%;" >This is devoted to the memory of Junia, the only named female apostle in the New Testament.. Though traditionally the name at the end of <a href="http://bible.gospelcom.net/cgi-bin/bible?passage=romans+16%3A7&NLT_version=yes&KJ21_version=yes&language=english&x=16&y=10">Romans 16.7</a> has often been translated as "Junias", the grammer at that point in the Greek doesn't leave an indication of the gender- the last letter is not included, due to the construction of the sentence. Millenia of male translators have assumed it to be a man. But in exhaustive searches of tombstones and other Roman archeology, the name "Junias" </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:TimesRoman;">does not appear once.</span></span><span style=";font-family:TimesRoman;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-size:100%;"> The name, "Junia", however (meaning "youthful" and taken from Hera/June, the wife of the head of the Greco-Roman Pantheon, Jupiter/Zeus), appears numerous times in Roman writings.</span><br /></span><span style=";font-family:TimesRoman;font-size:85%;" ><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">To read more, please visit:<br /></span><ul><li><span style="font-size:85%;">A <a href="http://www.womenpriests.org/classic/brooten.asp">history</a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"> of how Junia became masculinized, despite the beliefs of the early Christians.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.churchofgoddfw.com/monthly/junia.shtml">Dealing with the Apostleship of Junia</a></span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">An example of <a href="http://ablemedia.com/ctcweb/consortium/ancientweddings14.html">Roman references to the name "Junia"</a>, a ancient song dedicated to anoth</span><span style=";font-family:TimesRoman;font-size:85%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxpywR7kY1zTrYugvALhvhgArktQY1TZwNOnAo37BP7dMPRsYFSmYPskN5DuFVGGdAM7ZOW0lrvuht5i7y0TrOojUzS-RRx19-GXYM9yemsFFU3TbPBd32XPsPTlnmGZgId9l/s1600-h/Early_Female_Church_Leaders.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJxpywR7kY1zTrYugvALhvhgArktQY1TZwNOnAo37BP7dMPRsYFSmYPskN5DuFVGGdAM7ZOW0lrvuht5i7y0TrOojUzS-RRx19-GXYM9yemsFFU3TbPBd32XPsPTlnmGZgId9l/s400/Early_Female_Church_Leaders.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356603659813769890" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;">er Junia upon </span><span style="font-size:85%;">her marriage.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">An imaginary <a href="http://www.voicesvision.org/learn.html">letter from Junia</a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></li></ul><span style=";font-family:TimesRoman;font-size:85%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8EJ6J8OOmrbq5_i6ZPmIpxps79ULE-qyFH658xKqteZHyJWvuB-1xEihTop2Sp6u4uK9RXEhwreonIg-c16WJjjah5VOqT7d1CwjrSILkHfMG9bfQS9S7FQ8eF2tGc1m6hJ7/s1600-h/Junia.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 308px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo8EJ6J8OOmrbq5_i6ZPmIpxps79ULE-qyFH658xKqteZHyJWvuB-1xEihTop2Sp6u4uK9RXEhwreonIg-c16WJjjah5VOqT7d1CwjrSILkHfMG9bfQS9S7FQ8eF2tGc1m6hJ7/s400/Junia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356603663903121810" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Above: </span><span style=";font-family:TimesRoman;font-size:85%;" >Early Chur</span><span style=";font-family:TimesRoman;font-size:85%;" >ch female </span><span style=";font-family:TimesRoman;font-size:85%;" >leaders including Theoda, the Bishop of the Church of St. Prassede in Rome in 820 A.D.; with her predecessor St. Prassede, founder of the church; St. Prudentiana, and Mary, the mother of God. The square halo shows a living person at the time the picture was made. Ancient graffiti is clearly marked, changing the name "Theoda" to "Theodo" to make it appear that the bishop was a man.</span><span style=";font-family:TimesRoman;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br />Left: "St. Andronicus, St. Athanasius of Constantinople, and St. Junia"<br /><br /><br /><br />B</span><span style="font-size:85%;">ooks exclusively on Junia:<br /></span><ul><li><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Junia-Apostle-Eldon-Jay-Epp/dp/0800637712/sr=1-1/qid=1157735794/ref=sr_1_1/002-6208442-9885644?ie=UTF8&s=books">Junia: The First Woman Apostle </a></span><span style="font-size:85%;">in 2005</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lost-Apostle-Searching-Truth-Junia/dp/0787984434/ref=sr_11_1/002-6208442-9885644?ie=UTF8">The Lost Apostle: Searching for the Truth About Junia</a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"> in 2006. This is a definitive highly scholarly work, proving without doubt that Junia is female, by looking at every single Greek reference to her, and all the English translations.</span></li></ul> <div style="position: absolute; left: 26px; top: 1187px; width: 360px; height: 76px;"> <table style="left: 0px; width: 20px;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" height="76"><tbody><tr valign="top"> <td align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span></td> </tr></tbody></table></div> <span style="font-size:85%;">Other books on women in leadership:</span><ul><li><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gospel-Women-Studies-Named-Gospels/dp/0802849997/sr=1-1/qid=1157736954/ref=sr_1_1/002-6208442-9885644?ie=UTF8&s=books">Gospel Women: Studies of the Named Women in the Gospels</a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"> is a recent work discussing Junia and other great women of the first centuries.</span></li><li><span style="font-size:85%;">This book changed my life. In <a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/stores/detail/-/books/0060610638/customer-reviews/qid=1030675813/sr=1-1/ref=sr_1_1/103-5574460-9280626">What Paul Really Said About Women</a></span><span style="font-size:85%;">, Bristow looks at the culture, and the original Greek.</span><span style=";font-family:TimesRoman;font-size:85%;" ><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTEGw7udaEq7ursa-fVHckyr6-BNFjw2Fd1l7bwsX-yjkUgQ_NnnjZUgth7676rFSFPg_L1Px5vnFsLHZtnpsoxWBsl0VXcRZR74gcFlWp_57akGyfd2_l5y1lvsjBJ7Tg5KY/s1600-h/Priest_Mosaic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTEGw7udaEq7ursa-fVHckyr6-BNFjw2Fd1l7bwsX-yjkUgQ_NnnjZUgth7676rFSFPg_L1Px5vnFsLHZtnpsoxWBsl0VXcRZR74gcFlWp_57akGyfd2_l5y1lvsjBJ7Tg5KY/s400/Priest_Mosaic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356603665328991698" border="0" /></a></span></li></ul><span style="font-size:85%;">Where can you run into Junia in 3-D life? There is a Mission of St. Junia the Apostle in Costa </span><span style="font-size:85%;">Me</span><span style="font-size:85%;">sa, California, part of one of the groups that has split off the Roman Catholic Church. Also St. Martin the Merciful Orthodox Church in Corvallis, Oregon has a six-foot fresco of St. Junia.<br /><br />Right: </span><span style=";font-family:TimesRoman;font-size:85%;" >A mosaic in a cathedral floor covering the tomb of Julia Runa, a presbyterissa/priest.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">You can also now buy postcards and "pre-icons" of St. Junia for $2.50 </span><span style="font-size:85%;">plus postage from the bookstore of the <a href="http://www.gts.edu/store.asp">General Theological Semnary</a></span><span style="font-size:85%;"> of NY. Their number is 212-727-3907.<br /><br />Celebrate an amazing woman, </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">on the Orthodox commemoration and Feast of St. Junia (and Adronicus) on May 17th.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;">Following in Junia's footsteps, three centuries late</span><span style="font-size:85%;">r <a href="http://www.angelfire.com/ga/Georgian/tbilisi.html">Nina</a> lead the entire country of Georgia to Christ, making her perhaps the <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2009/07/nina.html">greatest female evangelist</a> </span><span style="font-size:85%;">of all time.<br /><br />Care passionately about women's leadership in the church? Join </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://cbeinternational.org/">Christians for Biblical Equality</a>!<br /></span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-53950172288021700892009-07-09T06:27:00.003+08:002009-07-18T10:23:48.726+08:00Nina<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The First Great Female Sharer</span></span><br /></div><br />Nina (also Nona, Nonna) was perhaps the greatest female sharer of the early church. Through her efforts she introduced an entire nation to the Light. Most of what is written of her remains enshrouded in myth. But all myths have truth at their core. This is her story, and what we can learn from her.<br /><br />There were some Christian groups in Georgia when Nina arrived there around 330 AD. (The date appears difficult to establish- other traditions indicate that she arrived in 276, 318, 327, or 335 AD.) Nina healed many people, including eventually the King of Georgia. The king then committed himself to the Light, and was advised by Nina to contact Constantine to obtain bishops. She continued to encourage the meeting and share truth until her death. She is responsible for founding the gathering of believers in Georgia.<br /><br />The tradition of Nina is more expansive than the bare facts. The Georgian Church traditionally dates it's first understanding to the Mother of God, Mary, indicating that the church seems to have had an early psychological acceptance of women in ministry. Nina herself grew up in Jerusalem, and is portrayed as someone of noble birth, who came as a sharer to Georgia, according to Georgian Church record. However, most other sources indicate that she was a slave when she first arrived in Georgia. This would put her in the tradition of Patrick of Ireland, coming to share with the people who had enslaved him. If Nina was of the Patrick tradition, then her sharing of Georgia is even more astounding. As to the Georgian traditions, it would seem more likely that a tradition would arise defending Nina's freedom, rather than Nina's enslavement, as there is less honor in being a slave.<br /><br />However, the Georgian church believed her to be a nun, perhaps "Nina" being a title rather than a proper name, deriving from her Egyptian order of "Nonnes". Other Georgian sources argue that it was a common name, like Gregory of Nazianzus' mother's name, Nino. According to the traditions, Nina was the niece of the Patriarch of Jerusalem, and given up to God by her parents.<br /><br />She is said to have received the cross of the wood of the vine from a vision of Mary, and this cross still exists today in Georgia. The present primary cross in Georgia is admittedly ancient.<br /><br />On the way to Georgia Nina shared extensively and was persecuted in Armenia. Upon arriving in Georgia she began her sharing with a prayer against a festival of the gods that was about to begin. A large hail storm then arose that dispersed the revelers and destroyed the idols. The hail storm was ascribed by the natives to the anger of the gods, but three days later Nina started to share the truth of the Light. Nina here demonstrated familiarity with the power encounter, dependence on God, and trust in His miraculous power.<br /><br />Nina came then to stay with the king's gardener, and there healed the gardener's wife's womb, to allow her to give birth to a son. Following this she healed a widow's son by putting a sackcloth on him. She met the felt needs of the people around her; sons are important in a society where women are degraded, and for a widow, the son is the only thing allowing her to be supported. She related to the Georgians emically, from their perspective and needs.<br /><br />Tradition then indicates that the work of Nina began to expand through the convincing of the royal house. The queen noticed the healing, and, knowing of Christianity, she asked Nina to pray for her own serious illness. After the queen was healed, Nina began to have her own disciples. Likely this tradition of discipleship is accurate, as it goes against normal church beliefs of the next 1500 years to have disciples attached to a woman. Also, discipleship would have been necessary for Nina's ministry to expand.<br /><br />The king, Mirian, did not appreciate Nina's success, so he decided to persecute the Christians and become himself more devoted to his gods. Mirian ordered his advisers to lead his wife away from the Gospel or else he would divorce her.<br /><br />Sources contradict on the next immediate events. Some say that Nina healed the king of a sudden blindness, and others that it got dark suddenly when he was hunting. The king asked for help from his gods, but to no avail, so he asked for help from Nina's God, and promised to proclaim Christianity and worship the cross. It became immediately light. Whatever happened, the king made a promise to turn to the Light in the process of these events.<br /><br />A beautiful cross was almost worshiped (not just venerated) by the Georgians shortly after these events. And the Armenian traditions concerning Georgia speak of Nina having people bow down before a cross as well. The people refused, however, according to the Armenians, as the cross was ugly, so God sent a cloud and light over it, and made a pleasant smell, and music came from the cross, at which the Georgians gladly worshiped. There seems to be a number of traditions supporting the idea that cross worship occurred, which of course would be heretical. But it does reflect a primitive understanding of Christianity. It appears that Nina, in her pursuit of contextualization, supported this worship.<br /><br />Interestingly, the Armenian tradition states that Gregory of Armenia had to instruct Nina on her early mission, providing some of the ideas such as throwing down idols and worshiping the cross. This tradition is questionable though, as it comes from Armenia and magnifies the importance of Armenia's patron saint. It also appears to denigrate the abilities of women to make decisions on their own, reflecting the male hegemony of historians. But even if she had the help of Gregory, still, through her sharing, she established the Church of an entire country and people. She was the type of a saint.<br /><br />After the king turned to Christ, so did the rest of the capitol city. Nina showed an awareness of the importance of leaders in a kinship society. She instructed and taught the leader, and the people followed. There is of course the danger of nominalism in this approach, as the people can follow their leader without making a decision for themselves. There is always also the danger that it would be forgotten that the Gospel is intended first for the poor and downtrodden, and for the wealthy and powerful only secondarily. But this was a more kinship, group-focused society, and it appears that Nina continued to disciple her followers throughout this time, to ingrain deep and not just widespread belief.<br /><br />The Church of Georgia was then guided by Nina into the greater church. At her request, King Mirian sent to Constantinople for bishops and priests, and shortly thereafter the Patriarch of Antioch arrived with permanent clergy and sacred relics. This was the beginning of a strong tie between Georgia and Antioch, and with the establishment of Georgia as an autocephaly, there was also a strong liturgical link with Antioch for centuries.<br /><br />Nina was also very vigorous in establishing the Georgian cult of worship. Soon after his conversion King Mirian built a temple, and when the builders could not erect the seventh pillar of the temple, Nina called for angels to help her set it up. Although it is difficult to know if this tradition is accurate, it demonstrates again Nina's awareness that the supernatural was ever present, useful, and could make an impact on people steeped in superstition and the spirit world. The king also encouraged Nina to look for the coat of Christ, supposedly brought to Georgia by the soldier who won it at the cross, and it was miraculously found by her, so a chapel was dedicated to Nina. (Another tradition has Nina sharing the Light with the Jews of Mtskheta and then receiving the coat of Christ from them.) Nina knew from her own cultural setting that physical objects could be imbued with spiritual strength- both holy and evil. She again affirmed the intimate presence of the supernatural.<br /><br />Nina continued to build temples throughout Georgia. Even though much of her story may never be confirmed this side of eternity, the ideas in the myth show a woman depending on God. She was known as an powerful and constant preacher, and lead many people to the Light. She does not appear to have been afraid to share to men, even though her own culture was against it. She prayed and expected healings and miracles. Nina demonstrated a boldness to obey Christ's commands to share the Gospel. She was not only ethereal and idealistic in her beliefs, but set up practical church structures, to encourage the continuation of the church after her death. She was not only a great female sharer, but a witness to us all on how to do effective love and truth.<br /><br />Sources:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Isoelian, P. A Short History of the Georgian Church. Saunders, Otley, and Co., London: 1866.<br /><br />Myendorff, John. Imperial Unity and Christian Divisions. St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, Crestwood, NY: 1989.</span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-61709607669312863542009-07-01T06:06:00.015+08:002009-07-01T06:55:48.081+08:004<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJpCWeNJaLAs9zoGjcrY-huV1xij283wzZ4hjSZ-y86GjyGDiIpIYbK0etgSvBnsE0gufNGZG_HiGcG2Y4uB5gFEF8FdxaZsW6foy_Ex76LdEdEssQUbNHAi0FLaQvmfOVwbhM/s1600-h/Miniature+Golf+Goats.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJpCWeNJaLAs9zoGjcrY-huV1xij283wzZ4hjSZ-y86GjyGDiIpIYbK0etgSvBnsE0gufNGZG_HiGcG2Y4uB5gFEF8FdxaZsW6foy_Ex76LdEdEssQUbNHAi0FLaQvmfOVwbhM/s400/Miniature+Golf+Goats.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353246451716318242" border="0" /></a>I had the pleasure of golfing yesterday for the first time in ages, with my fellow Glarites, Bret and Emily from my church, before going off to see Transformers and Star Trek at the Drive-Thru. (The former you really need to avoid. The special effects are cool but they get tiring because that's all there is. The latter is the only movie I've seen this year worth seeing twice.) When you move to New Glarus, you get a lot of cool coupons, and one of them is a 2:1 golf outing, so we took advantage of this.<br /><br />This was truly a Wisconsinite golf course: cheese, and live goats.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0wkALDAqoj4p3khiJyanxLmmrbj1UI7-VKmezvrLy4fYAK1cUD_nm6N3mVF5-2NvJckh1h27PLvxN95oaNc5rPloDqQYgtNk82kEAJGMYlJ1yJOoSV4LLkrJI17CbmPo_qiBA/s1600-h/Wisconsin+Miniature+Golf.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 136px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0wkALDAqoj4p3khiJyanxLmmrbj1UI7-VKmezvrLy4fYAK1cUD_nm6N3mVF5-2NvJckh1h27PLvxN95oaNc5rPloDqQYgtNk82kEAJGMYlJ1yJOoSV4LLkrJI17CbmPo_qiBA/s200/Wisconsin+Miniature+Golf.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353246116560447138" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41gDlSC1hlw-HS6tQu4qJtavLR_TiJi0M4xyME-FqqpQhk84Pi9cTwmyRfugriKiHjhdSuQ0egrd_QDpPBXLqFCEH_lNzAFYW6MhSZpnBBK1GnBBbgTpZpDJmiXWNS6jD95tD/s1600-h/Miniature+Golf+Courses.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 362px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41gDlSC1hlw-HS6tQu4qJtavLR_TiJi0M4xyME-FqqpQhk84Pi9cTwmyRfugriKiHjhdSuQ0egrd_QDpPBXLqFCEH_lNzAFYW6MhSZpnBBK1GnBBbgTpZpDJmiXWNS6jD95tD/s400/Miniature+Golf+Courses.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353246444166382274" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS_47UlJpO_Xv6DOMtG1ttrv6xuW3cAWUTZS4pHh1xcKU23aA1pVBcYv_zZB7uFjjwSVdV-hP4pZP1yTVRYbCuO9SHse4b1XDpYRf9nZ6geuN7DXNkos7XUFyvg3NbbwqaixFX/s1600-h/Emily+at+Miniature+Golf.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 179px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS_47UlJpO_Xv6DOMtG1ttrv6xuW3cAWUTZS4pHh1xcKU23aA1pVBcYv_zZB7uFjjwSVdV-hP4pZP1yTVRYbCuO9SHse4b1XDpYRf9nZ6geuN7DXNkos7XUFyvg3NbbwqaixFX/s200/Emily+at+Miniature+Golf.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353246101231604898" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />It's a beautifully manicured course, where they <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLIzV7q633aP5jYo8AWW8Mki3dqk9axs95rdKCmbCZtIeYURygfpmie6DfLOJ4z71KiA_PZCjKpDY1LBE7sSqamve9594GChZREfuk8jliWTWsneBNuzqG3ZgE_XP3fxZqJst/s1600-h/Bret+at+Miniature+Golf+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLIzV7q633aP5jYo8AWW8Mki3dqk9axs95rdKCmbCZtIeYURygfpmie6DfLOJ4z71KiA_PZCjKpDY1LBE7sSqamve9594GChZREfuk8jliWTWsneBNuzqG3ZgE_XP3fxZqJst/s200/Bret+at+Miniature+Golf+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353246097776799698" border="0" /></a>achieved an incredible amount of packing in. Every hole winds in and out of the next. The water trap was mostly avoided, though we did have some difficulties in the sand traps.<br /><br />Most of the holes weren't that innovative, though there was one loop-to-loop that only Bret was able to achieve on the first attempt. Actually, that was kind of the play on every hole- Bret did well, and me and Emily struggled to stay only a couple above par. (And I spent a few<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKr30scPAlFGDbhKWnyD90AdFaaMNQnzd4bHQMZ6MzR9F7bc3OhvGEwS-81MUUv9MMk3rn5tldvRaQy9G4s5ezkDyg8qOgqJjHx6rIQ-966dCo11dr6OyemNAeU6CjuEbwHYVi/s1600-h/Lost+Ball.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKr30scPAlFGDbhKWnyD90AdFaaMNQnzd4bHQMZ6MzR9F7bc3OhvGEwS-81MUUv9MMk3rn5tldvRaQy9G4s5ezkDyg8qOgqJjHx6rIQ-966dCo11dr6OyemNAeU6CjuEbwHYVi/s200/Lost+Ball.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353246111815977138" border="0" /></a> holes forced to yell "Four" to get the ball back on the green.) Thus we were pleased that Bret was not entirely <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brent_spiner">Spiner</a> and at <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYx-gvGS-A_GX2Sc53FNeKQ1GzFflVIDMZgP6vKBzSo1LSuTHVhSV-iRKwcV_r543zQZagdlcUSAZ044fDdwbd_9nMytY9pMIJfVD051i2xLCnGy1UnSI4VBT4dbk0U-C1qWF/s1600-h/Bret+at+Miniature+Golf.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYx-gvGS-A_GX2Sc53FNeKQ1GzFflVIDMZgP6vKBzSo1LSuTHVhSV-iRKwcV_r543zQZagdlcUSAZ044fDdwbd_9nMytY9pMIJfVD051i2xLCnGy1UnSI4VBT4dbk0U-C1qWF/s200/Bret+at+Miniature+Golf.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353246093825497090" border="0" /></a>least partly human, losing his ball- in the same bush that I lost mine in.Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-55025739562973290452009-06-29T03:01:00.003+08:002009-07-03T12:46:18.039+08:00Yudl - Ay - EEE - Ooooo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTedh8cKY2608zMKZNsSg_r7ggVleVXMQiDiIHWsLCIEWTri2HyK39jwzf0mVIUA_W2DgC9P-jGtHJ1EKtjFFiCVcas6a8gFwxsU5vNePYsSm4QUXM1ERfGILGil0tP1rJCAxy/s1600-h/Swiss+Home.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 314px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTedh8cKY2608zMKZNsSg_r7ggVleVXMQiDiIHWsLCIEWTri2HyK39jwzf0mVIUA_W2DgC9P-jGtHJ1EKtjFFiCVcas6a8gFwxsU5vNePYsSm4QUXM1ERfGILGil0tP1rJCAxy/s400/Swiss+Home.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353215294829012850" border="0" /></a>New Glarus is a town of festivals, with some eight over the course of the warm months. This weekend is Heidi Fest. (Not to be confused with the William Tell Festival, because a Swiss town really can't have too many celebrations of Switzerland!)<br /><br />Unfortunately, the celebration began with a community presentation of Heidi at the local high school. Don't get me wrong- it's a sweet enough story. But the production was anything but sweet. As someone who's directed productions in the past, the acting was atrocious, and the directing not much better. It was easy to see where improvements could have been made. The 4th grade child playing Heidi did a better job for her age than most of the participants, but everything was at the level of what you'd expect in a junior-high play. Not being able to hear the loud whispers of the woman with the cue cards would have helped. There were a couple notable <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizpK3KoI7zUk7S-F-c3T9OoBg3eo4_DLW7rAlnObInQSZ27Gq5pwS86la73_4IvJdXvuEJHH36MujkPTlDwkJ1tKJ4yBx3LBHHuj6dc6hBxpE7OU0Q6h3SmrajoWFMsFJtkcvm/s1600-h/New+Glarus+Cow+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 209px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizpK3KoI7zUk7S-F-c3T9OoBg3eo4_DLW7rAlnObInQSZ27Gq5pwS86la73_4IvJdXvuEJHH36MujkPTlDwkJ1tKJ4yBx3LBHHuj6dc6hBxpE7OU0Q6h3SmrajoWFMsFJtkcvm/s400/New+Glarus+Cow+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353215290015051666" border="0" /></a>exceptions, such as how we saw the obvious theatrical training of the woman playing the mean Miss Rottenmeier. But largely, the high point for the audience was when the live goat began to chew on the rope near the end of the two hours. The rope was attached to a large Swiss bell, and we all began silently to cheer the goat on, hoping against hope of some relief from the tedium. We were finally rewarded with the clear dulcet tones of the bell. But it bodes not well when the best acting is done by the goat.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXuiFbRvYbKrTOVombut-fRIKOxfvkQO_8Y0zBGYMuUinVEC_UrtonrpDNCmjGqHg0rMn1-FVrEceIyRmGmdhJ1g6PPbHr1LJHolBbf4pP9_ROvXcKBDKclQP29bJqY1u6uXe/s1600-h/New+Glarus+Cow.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 232px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXuiFbRvYbKrTOVombut-fRIKOxfvkQO_8Y0zBGYMuUinVEC_UrtonrpDNCmjGqHg0rMn1-FVrEceIyRmGmdhJ1g6PPbHr1LJHolBbf4pP9_ROvXcKBDKclQP29bJqY1u6uXe/s400/New+Glarus+Cow.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353215283137273314" border="0" /></a>The next day I made my way to the main square, where the dancing, crafts, and music were. On the way I discovered that New Glarus has it's own Ents.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUCzbpz7N1G8fpsKi1k0NCXUjQHkGSKWuEbqM7hD4JZ_lcKfM7JVTlATzGLekAVGC-sYanBkFL0GOv2Nd7zVtjBlN6Q82EIikBASYoMRrPwMPqLjw09-lE2m1J7F-du2Vd0-F/s1600-h/Heidi+Fest+Ent.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 326px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWUCzbpz7N1G8fpsKi1k0NCXUjQHkGSKWuEbqM7hD4JZ_lcKfM7JVTlATzGLekAVGC-sYanBkFL0GOv2Nd7zVtjBlN6Q82EIikBASYoMRrPwMPqLjw09-lE2m1J7F-du2Vd0-F/s400/Heidi+Fest+Ent.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353214229348231282" border="0" /></a><br />At the festival there was a delightful presentation of bell ringing, though unfortunately their drumming accompaniment left something to be desired, so it was not recorded. (This is not to speak ill. Keeping a beat is often the hardest part of an orchestra, and the drummer has to be that much better a drummer than any other instrumentalist.)<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/M5VooZPIhDY&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/M5VooZPIhDY&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />I was happy to see a live goat next to the cheese table, and <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjla4y_s3O6SlnqMxu6YguDrzuKHvRXv0o3LLMIB6LO4ufhU3WTNYg2WLyAyc5PNFqvhCqEQf7XiNI55oBiQhPEuMffGGkShWVg2XaBdctUpajUZLWW74aYw7etcp4xnUoTwWSI/s1600-h/Heidi+Fest+Goat.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjla4y_s3O6SlnqMxu6YguDrzuKHvRXv0o3LLMIB6LO4ufhU3WTNYg2WLyAyc5PNFqvhCqEQf7XiNI55oBiQhPEuMffGGkShWVg2XaBdctUpajUZLWW74aYw7etcp4xnUoTwWSI/s400/Heidi+Fest+Goat.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353214231404943506" border="0" /></a>across the way some Naughty Dolls.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDswxNUUM7tXgywlnoFfJTX7g2d3Nwfdgn3ZFfQsQc3eIaMLemV_tlkLL-LzstxOlo1ee2y4dBhH96sg4F1qTj32vzov3KIW1abP6XSNJ_8p522FGYC79Avhqry-o94MaK80Gb/s1600-h/Naughty+Dolls.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 187px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDswxNUUM7tXgywlnoFfJTX7g2d3Nwfdgn3ZFfQsQc3eIaMLemV_tlkLL-LzstxOlo1ee2y4dBhH96sg4F1qTj32vzov3KIW1abP6XSNJ_8p522FGYC79Avhqry-o94MaK80Gb/s400/Naughty+Dolls.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353214238073772674" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Yes, I wondered about that myself. I think the woman selling them doesn't realize the modern connotation for the old appellation. What it actually means is dolls without faces but only hair, designed to look like <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZ-iUqE1pxQHvC2yE4FjCy7qN7jij00v1y2ji4zud2dMa1bnop0r8d5jbWKt5D_GoPwRCbRrMg_0TD5dFc5dnk0jPiGsiNCoeSGvDFDYKIIBYJY0d1lswXygId2cjFBsSS8UF/s1600-h/Heidi+Fest.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 325px; height: 217px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFZ-iUqE1pxQHvC2yE4FjCy7qN7jij00v1y2ji4zud2dMa1bnop0r8d5jbWKt5D_GoPwRCbRrMg_0TD5dFc5dnk0jPiGsiNCoeSGvDFDYKIIBYJY0d1lswXygId2cjFBsSS8UF/s400/Heidi+Fest.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353214227699786354" border="0" /></a>they're standing in the corner. Trust me- that's not what you'll get if you Google "Naughty Dolls". (And may I say, dolls without faces, for me, is more "Scary Dolls"?)<br /><br />Another booth at the festival had these amazing bottles, reheated to 1500 degrees and melted, turned in to beautiful wind chimes. I spoke with the proprietor, <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.creativetouchcrafts.com">Creative Touch</a>, about bringing back some of the Mountain Dew and Coke bottles in Arabic from my trip to Yemen in a month, perhaps even a couple extra for him to sell to others.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vUvtdV_Art4&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vUvtdV_Art4&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />Towards evening there was dancing, but because of a spot of rain, hardly anyone came out. When I stopped by around seven, they were playing a series of songs with little kids dancing to them. Sadly, one of them was "Little Willy" by the British band <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_sweet">The Sweet</a>. I say sadly, for I have not been able to get it out of my head, and if you know anything of British culture, and are aware that the band is British, the song takes on wholly new connotations.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/x3XGjnQgsJA&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/x3XGjnQgsJA&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlcVp_AvYQ7gKtYvz_BYGjsQOIEZo8sW9W3tbmhy88Zczmfc4zmYIID505MYtTyZmCgrZIhRYF61buWE-hsUFYmPDIrVSUwSwVd4ffNbAJgZkLoxVZKhYNfkT6mGRk5gkeau9/s1600-h/New+Glarus+at+Sunset.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUlcVp_AvYQ7gKtYvz_BYGjsQOIEZo8sW9W3tbmhy88Zczmfc4zmYIID505MYtTyZmCgrZIhRYF61buWE-hsUFYmPDIrVSUwSwVd4ffNbAJgZkLoxVZKhYNfkT6mGRk5gkeau9/s400/New+Glarus+at+Sunset.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353214239750741906" border="0" /></a><br />The end of a day was a treat of sunset over New Glarus, looking over the police station and town hall from the hill of the <a href="http://www.swisschurch.org/content/aboutus.asp">old United Church of Christ church</a>, going back to 1850.Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-91718105103815667092009-06-29T02:37:00.005+08:002009-07-01T06:53:06.835+08:00When a Tree Falls on You, Do You Make a Sound?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9t9mt1w7F_qADSCavl036s43xQLFHp66m23FsHpmH82ijt6zW6Lw4mGHUUoDffnYiWrn-c5l7RLxn7NxuYuVMu4aDUMr8ieqjor_I52kG8IoEVy7HJolqJoW0WNpYdf_j-_sR/s1600-h/Fallen+Tree.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9t9mt1w7F_qADSCavl036s43xQLFHp66m23FsHpmH82ijt6zW6Lw4mGHUUoDffnYiWrn-c5l7RLxn7NxuYuVMu4aDUMr8ieqjor_I52kG8IoEVy7HJolqJoW0WNpYdf_j-_sR/s400/Fallen+Tree.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353237013428903202" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZAEqpJleJ0DGYdEWpHGiwBvT9Ft0TM1v4_z3uVNto9FyNTKX4_r5Hf0qGlV1WSKUBkeNZij8hFk9gqytnwDJv5hlFge9MwPelEH6LGLI8XYBU2yAcISvhAoRc2X7kfDwgj_Y_/s1600-h/Fallen+Tree+and+RV.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZAEqpJleJ0DGYdEWpHGiwBvT9Ft0TM1v4_z3uVNto9FyNTKX4_r5Hf0qGlV1WSKUBkeNZij8hFk9gqytnwDJv5hlFge9MwPelEH6LGLI8XYBU2yAcISvhAoRc2X7kfDwgj_Y_/s400/Fallen+Tree+and+RV.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353237022295813666" border="0" /></a>Moments ago, with a great crack and a crash, I became convinced that the RV was finally falling apart. I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter, and what to my eyes should appear, but a giant fallen tree, rotten at the core.<br /><br />There is a collection of these trees around here, mostly dead except for the new life springing at their roots, and mostly cut to stumps to remove any danger of falling. But a few have not yet been cut, and there have been high winds today. This fell about 20 feet from the bow of the RV- had it hit, it would have assuredly caused great damage to the roof and bow.<br /><br />This is what it looked like after it had been moved out of the way, further from the RV, and this is it's size in relation to the RV.Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-72636557543788830282009-06-25T04:55:00.002+08:002009-07-01T06:58:54.197+08:00The Presence of God From a Bike<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid60pqfFo-T3M2lDhqMvOquS899GItsHHMZrhzx1IlRIdmPZqvoGSj54HvdfzqKNPCQgAwu_N31PjscJ2DBDzh_xPx5iRMTzPhpmnHUWw6wJZzI6BsDse5q1BA_a640FnDN8YZ/s1600-h/Bike+Ride+1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid60pqfFo-T3M2lDhqMvOquS899GItsHHMZrhzx1IlRIdmPZqvoGSj54HvdfzqKNPCQgAwu_N31PjscJ2DBDzh_xPx5iRMTzPhpmnHUWw6wJZzI6BsDse5q1BA_a640FnDN8YZ/s400/Bike+Ride+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353191282948811474" border="0" /></a>New Glarus has a very level extended bike trail, relatively cheap to bike on, and very long, extending miles in each direction. I traveled out to nearby Monticello today, six miles away, and enjoyed the beauty around me. There are long stretches of straight sun-filled fields, intersperses with over-arching canopy. With no people or buildings or roads around, one comes across a bridge disappearing above the bike path. Near Monticello are marshlands of pussy willows, and willow trees overhanging the creeks, with what I imagine the South looks like. It is a place of peace.<br /><br />Until I neared completion, and discovered a wicked crick in my neck, necessitating getting the bike repair shop to lengthen the main handlebars of my bike.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIzxFowmWh7OtTUZpILzUiVAejqTjhFLwfMnBQLA-vLSctn-gsThYHXWOsLlEk8ek4Go3Z_94OSVcxKwQvoJHIWDheI56lseAEAbJM9X1vtRxumneykN3bN8rntYNih03CghO/s1600-h/Bike+Ride+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIzxFowmWh7OtTUZpILzUiVAejqTjhFLwfMnBQLA-vLSctn-gsThYHXWOsLlEk8ek4Go3Z_94OSVcxKwQvoJHIWDheI56lseAEAbJM9X1vtRxumneykN3bN8rntYNih03CghO/s400/Bike+Ride+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353191289434593538" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KxuTD9n62Y5lhcsX24UVSs1lqHrgjaLuJSwlP48GPEtojzek5g2B1xkwoxjYEpe6EJO6CjoJBMd6lkfOc1YlSH9qYx15Lr4m6ArTDQtQKfz4d1eHAER0qSM8YK0gJ0_s8jdy/s1600-h/Bike+Ride+3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KxuTD9n62Y5lhcsX24UVSs1lqHrgjaLuJSwlP48GPEtojzek5g2B1xkwoxjYEpe6EJO6CjoJBMd6lkfOc1YlSH9qYx15Lr4m6ArTDQtQKfz4d1eHAER0qSM8YK0gJ0_s8jdy/s400/Bike+Ride+3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353191295201864162" border="0" /></a>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-65376670813506579262009-06-22T11:33:00.014+08:002009-06-25T22:10:44.090+08:00A Century of FatherhoodI changed my first flat today. On my way to see my dad, a few bits of rubber flew out from underneath the car, but I figured it was only something on the freeway, since the tires looked good when I stopped. And when the rearview window was shaking, both me and my dad thought it was just bad Wisconsin roads. But on the way back, outside Sentry, a great whoosh informed me that the tire had gone flat, and I had to get a big Sentry worker to loosen two of the lug nuts.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjTOCY-lpIgA07XFVmvxLu1cYFfdHQ2QUACL5zr8CM_gkh-lOmPMtWdSR3OuwPlyqXp7IDk8Wq6EFVHZDj47-ZJbo63HVnSl_o6dHFR9EJQobwM3Sz8iKaHdsKhLMBmXXnzIYj/s1600-h/Dad's+Oconomowoc+Home.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjTOCY-lpIgA07XFVmvxLu1cYFfdHQ2QUACL5zr8CM_gkh-lOmPMtWdSR3OuwPlyqXp7IDk8Wq6EFVHZDj47-ZJbo63HVnSl_o6dHFR9EJQobwM3Sz8iKaHdsKhLMBmXXnzIYj/s400/Dad's+Oconomowoc+Home.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350336694415858354" border="0" /></a><br />But earlier, I took a trip back in time with my dad, visiting Stone Bank, where he grew up. After a great BBQ at the Steinke's daughter's house, we stopped at the house my dad grew up in, which he rented from the Kutz's in the 50s. They were remodeling, but the Kutz grandson, now owner, was there, and we were able to see the room he grew up in. My dad had a good conversation with Kutz III catching up on those of the family he knew.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYHXWCH6xXsP7NDwB2AqKumx9owkreCj6XJ4C-nlADqM4jFOSzWBJ4iEtUXD-ERGBz_oJBimPsM22nHIjWMnhpb3rueY8yD-YK5NdHURClLqmo9cmvg5ilKpjdMKNk6ifZKNZE/s1600-h/Dad+in+Kutze%27s.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 301px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYHXWCH6xXsP7NDwB2AqKumx9owkreCj6XJ4C-nlADqM4jFOSzWBJ4iEtUXD-ERGBz_oJBimPsM22nHIjWMnhpb3rueY8yD-YK5NdHURClLqmo9cmvg5ilKpjdMKNk6ifZKNZE/s400/Dad+in+Kutze%27s.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350336498544704162" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YDBxzf6uIlStB63uX6mtdwRzA2XqFTS8rCh_H46cynQr-r0PGz-nOw94ills6V_8MWTSMEgpDkvy8kfsCLaQIyeq6VZjFJrk9L9Te2sX1YMx6NlEGLINTfF9ER_LZQpya6fb/s1600-h/Kutze's+Today.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0YDBxzf6uIlStB63uX6mtdwRzA2XqFTS8rCh_H46cynQr-r0PGz-nOw94ills6V_8MWTSMEgpDkvy8kfsCLaQIyeq6VZjFJrk9L9Te2sX1YMx6NlEGLINTfF9ER_LZQpya6fb/s400/Kutze's+Today.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350334229070132290" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXMrvDpCGqAUcmA4fXAmuWeGpBbnwjRcC7XABwtwdf0D6rJ4qcisyBglkzYB2Jlca07K-yOwVsfVLOX-mgomKD0Ig9QFO5ZV2VVL86MbwIBR2hwwlfAG_JBrMSa-94Ekr2XHs6/s1600-h/Kutze's+Yesterday+1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXMrvDpCGqAUcmA4fXAmuWeGpBbnwjRcC7XABwtwdf0D6rJ4qcisyBglkzYB2Jlca07K-yOwVsfVLOX-mgomKD0Ig9QFO5ZV2VVL86MbwIBR2hwwlfAG_JBrMSa-94Ekr2XHs6/s400/Kutze's+Yesterday+1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350333946903252786" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMFEyWNQdpmenRHLZ4yXpXiD77Q29Di4fK701kfZKYzgTfU-1SI_AA3EFFH07u23PckKCO6ycqsYi0iE53k51Jpx4AppRGrukepYHptlZvETIZhffVrrQphjRZErBpuZQMoxYb/s1600-h/Kutze's+Yesterday+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMFEyWNQdpmenRHLZ4yXpXiD77Q29Di4fK701kfZKYzgTfU-1SI_AA3EFFH07u23PckKCO6ycqsYi0iE53k51Jpx4AppRGrukepYHptlZvETIZhffVrrQphjRZErBpuZQMoxYb/s400/Kutze's+Yesterday+2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350330466281346706" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7-e06GoEEd4D567N5qob7dddO3QKy3G6qyZAe3tSzjMZxQP84XG8jm4Sk73i4vRbxRrhV4brKaqxNqMX8sTHA6i2XL1mBPlHu-4AFLgdwZFNxaaAupDlvrKmZXx0MP44RAFB1/s1600-h/Dad's+Schoolhouse.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7-e06GoEEd4D567N5qob7dddO3QKy3G6qyZAe3tSzjMZxQP84XG8jm4Sk73i4vRbxRrhV4brKaqxNqMX8sTHA6i2XL1mBPlHu-4AFLgdwZFNxaaAupDlvrKmZXx0MP44RAFB1/s400/Dad's+Schoolhouse.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350327847063534802" border="0" /></a>We drove down the road, with my dad pointing out where all his friends used to live, and where he used to play, in the small town of Stone Bank, where everyone knows your name.<br /><br />Down the road was Kutz's itself, the corner store, pub, and general hangout. This is where my grandparents worked, when not at the goat farm, and my dad hung out a good deal. It was extensively changed as well, but where he is standing there was some semblance of how things used to look.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMUmxkDGEb8tukkC9x1KEZm73KI0o8AGNIAIK6vrlWscZtr3CEgQ3A6tOsDgpvlLtFLhRuVcGlCw5wfTihRy4pqvoS2NW56Z_cqaTM_51vaOhZtOealKhVhSuS84j3K4iNIKZ/s1600-h/Grandma+and+Grandpa+Gravesite.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKMUmxkDGEb8tukkC9x1KEZm73KI0o8AGNIAIK6vrlWscZtr3CEgQ3A6tOsDgpvlLtFLhRuVcGlCw5wfTihRy4pqvoS2NW56Z_cqaTM_51vaOhZtOealKhVhSuS84j3K4iNIKZ/s400/Grandma+and+Grandpa+Gravesite.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350336877316334930" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtprUm9DI3zsRNG9rpEx91ox-vAQE0oEcxR4MvyDGWiBM9xM46PntB50Qxmc2X8BUrZ2qEBF-QSecqW5erHRI0zM46eh1G8Ka255ARvIKvwiEBxv9-8DHLIo3hS4WqRtO30TYa/s1600-h/Grandma+and+Grandpa+Gravestone.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtprUm9DI3zsRNG9rpEx91ox-vAQE0oEcxR4MvyDGWiBM9xM46PntB50Qxmc2X8BUrZ2qEBF-QSecqW5erHRI0zM46eh1G8Ka255ARvIKvwiEBxv9-8DHLIo3hS4WqRtO30TYa/s400/Grandma+and+Grandpa+Gravestone.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350337067296466866" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This was the way Kutz's used to look.<br /><br /><br />The small town of Stone Bank had five bars. Across from one of them was the two-room schoolhouse where my dad went to school with Mary Steinke. I knew they had gone to school together, but I had no idea it was a two-room schoolhouse. I had no idea that those things still existed in the 40s. Now it's a Teen Assistance Center.<br /><br /><br />But the highlight of the day was finding the cemetery where my grandfather and grandmother were buried. My aunt knew the location, and then we arrived at a cemetery in Ixonia, much larger than I'd envisioned. I was thinking perhaps 60 graves, and this was closer to 600- all flat, and none alphabetized.<br /><br />I began a long trek, looking through grave after grave, and found many Jaegers, a family my dad had known, before I got to the Palosaari stone. There they were, Sarah and Jon Quincy. I'd not been to their funerals in '82 and '85. This was my first chance to pay respects.<br /><br />Their stone is in the sheltering boughs of a small tree, and we laid two wreaths on the stone, perhaps the only living flowers in the cemetery. We stood for a moment, remembering. I thought of all my grandfather and grandmother had seen. My grandfather was born in 1901- he'd be 108 years old were he alive today. When he was born, there was no electricity, running water, or cars- certainly not his first few years in Russian-controlled Finland. I haven't considered it before, but as Finland wasn't independent until 1917, my family were Russian citizens until they came over in 1906- much as the Russians were viewed as imperialist oppressors.<br /><br />It was good to remember. No grave should be unattended, with no memories to hang over it. Much as we might believe in eternal life today, we neglect at our own peril the Jewish interpretation of life after death- in the memories of our offspring, and the generations of descendants.Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-39034402249912545562009-06-15T07:14:00.012+08:002009-06-23T03:46:58.147+08:00Serendipity in MinnesotaI know that many are like me, and have viewed <a href="http://northmidwest.blogspot.com/">Aimee's blog</a> and just assumed that she's given up on the Truth Testimony, and is just making it up as she goes along. Like they've got a new house and are remodeling it, and bought a bunch of chickens that they're raising from the egg! So for all of those in doubt, I went to Minneapolis to obtain true unbiased pictorial evidence of Airemy's lives. The journey started auspiciously enough, with the roar of rockets. But rockets don't always land where one expects.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OSmqjB_whs4&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OSmqjB_whs4&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />I had a four day grueling conference, from eight in the morning until six at night- without even a lunch break! I had little time to think or contemplate anything in those four days. I was on the same street, just a few minutes away, from <a href="http://www.cbeinternational.org/">Christians for Biblical Equality</a>, that center of focus on emancipation of women for equality in the family and the Church. I have admired and followed their work for years, but was unfortunately unable to visit there during the times they are open.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKnzWbWeuI_H4_9GhyJneS0U6sf_qS2Wlj_hEL2wA9hX3h9ttex-0L6uK27KBvoJfZwOA1JyMVeXuUuJZs4YFS1U9IoohC-k7rEOQe__KwTtfFpIxoQnsag4lz0AFBdA7NLJtw/s1600-h/Airemy+Home.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKnzWbWeuI_H4_9GhyJneS0U6sf_qS2Wlj_hEL2wA9hX3h9ttex-0L6uK27KBvoJfZwOA1JyMVeXuUuJZs4YFS1U9IoohC-k7rEOQe__KwTtfFpIxoQnsag4lz0AFBdA7NLJtw/s400/Airemy+Home.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348738469483022610" border="0" /></a>Jeremy and Aimee were also living just a few minutes from where I was staying, and I was able to visit their cute (and very real) house, in the process of extensive remodeling that will surely greatly increase it's aesthetic value. It looks like it would fit right in with the old prairies. I had a wonderful dinner catching up with them (though of course any dinner is better with wine), and got to visit their pets in the back. They are named Squwak, Cheep, Chirp, and the other sister, Chirp. (I made those names up.)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB5unWSIYCNQBgcnxmrjy_XXfbFaqypA2RqPF7q_sK5A-wHTvHWM3sdNts3QrYwh1iRYlvMymhyphenhyphenaDwXJ-uDZV6-UK-udCxabhcf4Ulsd_kJW1iAItaiHevsnAOLXWW_Ct68eWO/s1600-h/Chicken+Feeding.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB5unWSIYCNQBgcnxmrjy_XXfbFaqypA2RqPF7q_sK5A-wHTvHWM3sdNts3QrYwh1iRYlvMymhyphenhyphenaDwXJ-uDZV6-UK-udCxabhcf4Ulsd_kJW1iAItaiHevsnAOLXWW_Ct68eWO/s400/Chicken+Feeding.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348738466946105922" border="0" /></a><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1uOZ-K_snvQ&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1uOZ-K_snvQ&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBlvrhhrOqDPjrhdYlEuG2qLfwqaTk3pQe01Ji9x6k-m-uan9vbqx_UEAx7tiFXc5IeFM_vrCkFd9uw633df_dXXgSKd6GAfQeX9NOktyCHVRWogLTDHVBi1XYvKoz-NcRi3w/s1600-h/Airemy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBlvrhhrOqDPjrhdYlEuG2qLfwqaTk3pQe01Ji9x6k-m-uan9vbqx_UEAx7tiFXc5IeFM_vrCkFd9uw633df_dXXgSKd6GAfQeX9NOktyCHVRWogLTDHVBi1XYvKoz-NcRi3w/s400/Airemy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348738473548315186" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Aimee has also worked on a beautiful Rain Garden, which in case you are unfamiliar with the term as I was, is a place where water collects to feed the plants and provide a home for the mosquitoes. Here they are standing in it.<br /><br />But the most amazing part of my journey was all of the random people I ran into in the Twin Cities. I knew I would be seeing Scott and Kimberly, and hoped to meet up with Airemy. But I was not at all suspecting that I would be able to turn around and see I was sitting at a table next to Raja from North Africa, and be able to have dinner with Lillis, also from Africa, and her roommates- but when I looked up, there was Lillis, at the Lemon Water Stand! Perhaps most mysteriously, as I sat down for dinner, based on my first name and <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/1984/03/people-of-highway.html">unique upbringing</a>, one of Lillis' roommates deduced that we had been housemates at a conference in Chicago, fully ten years prior! Truly, Minneapolis is the Nexus of the Universe.Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-58066096594944163452009-06-11T10:12:00.000+08:002009-07-02T11:25:00.624+08:00ProposalI am the hollow man<br />Who dreams dreams too big.<br />I am the hollow man<br />Finding hope when despair should be.<br />I am <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry_Scott_Taylor">the hollow man</a><br />Blindly pursuing irreverent futures.<br />I am the holy man<br />Set apart for <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Deuteronomy%2013.15;&version=45;">khawram</a>.<br />I am the hollow man.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/still-i-rise/">Still I rise</a> from Sheol<br />Filled with the waters of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marah_%28Bible%29">Marah.</a><br />I have become <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Diogenes_looking_for_a_man_-_attributed_to_JHW_Tischbein.jpg">Diogenes</a><br />Searching for a companion.<br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._Robert_Oppenheimer">I have become Shiva</a><br />bringing despair where hope would be.<br />For love also is <span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><a href="http://bible.cc/songs/8-6.htm"> unyielding as the grave</a>.<br /><br />I am Sheol.<br />I am the barren woman.<br />I am the parched Earth.<br /><a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=proverbs%2030.15-16;&version=47;">I am the consuming fire</a>.<br />And I shall give to the leach,<br />until finally,<br />he too,<br />is satisfied.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Selah</span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-50169679447961215662009-06-04T07:12:00.013+08:002009-06-23T03:42:19.804+08:00New Home, New GlarusIf one looks hard enough, they can find an idyllic corner of Switzerland in Southwestern Wisconsin, where the older buildings and older generation still speak German, where the beer flows freely and the festivals and people are friendly. This weekend, I moved to the town of New Glarus.<br /><br />It involved a day of packing everything into the RV, carrying many boxes of books while Erin crammed them into the stern, now Storage. (Not Steerage.) The next day, Erin went ahead in her more maneuverable lighter craft, scouting out potential sharks and shoals for my more bulky vessel, loaded as it was with shipping containers. There was some legitimate concern that she wouldn't make it (the RV, not Erin), considering all of the <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2008_09_01_archive.html">engine trouble</a> she had suffered in the past. But we made it to the new berth safely- and there is no way the journey could have been accomplished without Tugboat Erin.<br /><br />The new location is decidedly different. I am often the only one in the field, which holds only some fourteen berths. (There is one other empty camper in the lot.) On the weekends one other RV might pull in; on festival weekends, up to five. It is a bit more isolated than previously- but <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tffSB2sQ8iw0RTajQGQxTg-5lp1kADC98yvbc0ZmE6ja2PImFrDcotwj8Df1BtgK4AuNa9WYXGL829H3S1bFXXRtLcxcmgKQmwdbL1Qm5bEqAIk525DzUqDhSxSilRND58Cb/s1600-h/Bunny.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tffSB2sQ8iw0RTajQGQxTg-5lp1kADC98yvbc0ZmE6ja2PImFrDcotwj8Df1BtgK4AuNa9WYXGL829H3S1bFXXRtLcxcmgKQmwdbL1Qm5bEqAIk525DzUqDhSxSilRND58Cb/s400/Bunny.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348718067515797714" border="0" /></a>that's the price one pays for cheaper rates. Most of the time my companions are the wildlife of the area. Yesterday I watched one of the many robins working furiously in tug-of-war with an elastic worm. She won, and immediately her near-full-grown children hopped up to her, chirping furiously, demanding the regurgitated food- which she happily accommodated.<br /><br />I wasn't aware of the weather when I moved in. My first night came with torrential rainstorms, with lightning and thunder. Water was falling in literal bathtubs per meter squared per second. (b/m<sup>2</sup>/s for the scientifically literate.)<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sUs264hRAu0&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sUs264hRAu0&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />Though I went out a couple times to shake the water off the canopy, I was not quick enough, and the rain - that powerful compound water - completely tore off half the canopy. For a few days, until I found some alligator tape, I relied on elementary principles of balancing physics to open the door.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCYxBy9fmt4hTpHJ_FVyvBmfDFfRCqxty3pAGiqWmmsnAbCWP4KY4jSDHf5qejsc4HUdbnVAH6p9VG1s6mVKB-CL4WlInLtXjFynOoaPfCrqrgvqJq5Qjacw2QvQ3u2nMQyKXu/s1600-h/Damaged+Canopy+I.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCYxBy9fmt4hTpHJ_FVyvBmfDFfRCqxty3pAGiqWmmsnAbCWP4KY4jSDHf5qejsc4HUdbnVAH6p9VG1s6mVKB-CL4WlInLtXjFynOoaPfCrqrgvqJq5Qjacw2QvQ3u2nMQyKXu/s400/Damaged+Canopy+I.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348718073679140338" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmI2tksHHsbNjsJmXqLBlPt9E5LM_I3JJ1ozjPIiDftndoXxaf76LZeTddSQaKo3twhA_imHIz5H1MnZXTAi3oKUCeXkF3QT0Fe20tcnWBicXzqIDH4OOpGCGTaMlgbpWUZp6c/s1600-h/Damaged+Canopy+II.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 326px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmI2tksHHsbNjsJmXqLBlPt9E5LM_I3JJ1ozjPIiDftndoXxaf76LZeTddSQaKo3twhA_imHIz5H1MnZXTAi3oKUCeXkF3QT0Fe20tcnWBicXzqIDH4OOpGCGTaMlgbpWUZp6c/s400/Damaged+Canopy+II.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348718081780180050" border="0" /></a><br /><br />New Glarus is a wonderful town. I'm at the South end of it, which means it takes all of five miles to bike to downtown New Glarus, and another minute to reach the North end of the village. The people here are amazingly kind and accommodating. Constantly they open the door for me, though I am neither female nor elderly. One receives a number of coupons for meals upon moving to New Glarus- but most of those restaurants are constantly offering me free drinks as well, once they find I'm a new arrival. Stereotypical of Small Town America it may be, but everywhere is a hearty hello and Hail-Fellow-Well-Met.<br /><br />So far, the two drawbacks I've found have been firstly, limited wireless. There are only two public wireless signals in town, and the stronger of the two at Fat Cat Coffehouse is intermittent- often appearing to be working but more often on the fritz. I found a better signal at Puempels Olde Tavern, and <a href="http://www.powellscomputing.com/">a netcafe</a> hidden in the shopping mall of nearby Belleveille. The second drawback was having to get a breathalizer test after one of those free dinners.<br /><br />Actually, that's one of the positives of New Glarus. After a meal, and a full glass of wine, I felt a little off. So I left my car at the restaurant, walked the two blocks to the police station, and asked if they could give me the test. The officer there was very accomodating, offering to give me a lift <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEbMwmPrynqTYEHH8E0jmhLUQdm3S-cssh2Q2agK_mO0ejOtGg_Vpb4G1ApESO6jm6OFZ8E7cQazz1VnDNjsla0nK4K74g6jHj8_etB2Ch6V55pYlqB9SbkgunWjyAPqLQ-2Fy/s1600-h/Al+Capone%27s+Place.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 351px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEbMwmPrynqTYEHH8E0jmhLUQdm3S-cssh2Q2agK_mO0ejOtGg_Vpb4G1ApESO6jm6OFZ8E7cQazz1VnDNjsla0nK4K74g6jHj8_etB2Ch6V55pYlqB9SbkgunWjyAPqLQ-2Fy/s400/Al+Capone%27s+Place.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348718061627269970" border="0" /></a>home if it was too high, and we had a very good conversation about policing in New Glarus, and the history of the town. He told me consuming a large meal actually <span style="font-style: italic;">increases </span>the length of effect from alcohol. He also pointed out that Al Capone had his first out-of-Chicago home here (pictured to the left), just across the street from where the police station is now. There's a network of tunnels running under the city for bootlegging, discovered only in remodeling of the last decade- and sadly, rather than taking advantage of the rather obvious sizable tourist possibilities, they bricked all the tunnels up! The officer also kindly filled me in on the other major feature of New Glarus- the largest urinal in the Midwest. It is impressive- waist-high, and you can <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6MI-qpfWcSzeFPk9JE7rFAFTlsfh7j3SodKXXI-qvqQFefMwhfcv-uFTqs4S1xgjR7FZGjLgEq1q3R_bRwyZHgs-pfoVWLmgs6Nrf6YLw9D9XaUiep1PumlNXT1Do1gXEezfv/s1600-h/Urinal.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 345px; height: 460px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6MI-qpfWcSzeFPk9JE7rFAFTlsfh7j3SodKXXI-qvqQFefMwhfcv-uFTqs4S1xgjR7FZGjLgEq1q3R_bRwyZHgs-pfoVWLmgs6Nrf6YLw9D9XaUiep1PumlNXT1Do1gXEezfv/s400/Urinal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348715163497579810" border="0" /></a>almost walk into it. The plunger is helpfully positioned as a reference point. (Female readers should of course page down so as not to view the inappropriate commode.)<br /><br />Oh. Half an hour after a big meal and a glass of wine, I came out at 0.00, and walked back to my car. That's what three years in Morocco does to one's tolerance.<br /><br />But in truth, what people mostly come to New Glarus for is the Swiss atmosphere and Swiss Festivals. Some twelve festivals in the warm months, differentiated into Polka, Heidi, William Tell, etc. There are many more minutia to Swiss culture than most are aware of! And everywhere, homes and buildings are done in Swiss alpine style, with Germanic lettering, hearkening back to the original settlers of New Glarus.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8gMk9xBxNlRfgxXMlI4nBaTAklSmzqPodsACwmZ6GOENZZh8tIKd0_QdbtKDJAY8CV4XmKreaOCW-i37RE_YfS5WcVivAWiumMHB7RaFcBIvSE6uthFX9GRtSkX9drxetx_h/s1600-h/Swiss+Home+1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-8gMk9xBxNlRfgxXMlI4nBaTAklSmzqPodsACwmZ6GOENZZh8tIKd0_QdbtKDJAY8CV4XmKreaOCW-i37RE_YfS5WcVivAWiumMHB7RaFcBIvSE6uthFX9GRtSkX9drxetx_h/s400/Swiss+Home+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348718084816026018" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnWnsRKTdJPhVNNBYnHeYbNGWM3fLhTNTLENSMaOkEiHqw2IaOMyb7DckMMNKoY-sSQnDa40kO9hyphenhyphenW-0QDmXGowYa2N2UY6SMiyELjxMtgX-sWxKn57k0_fgcux1WrRZ3pT7F/s1600-h/Swiss+Home+3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnWnsRKTdJPhVNNBYnHeYbNGWM3fLhTNTLENSMaOkEiHqw2IaOMyb7DckMMNKoY-sSQnDa40kO9hyphenhyphenW-0QDmXGowYa2N2UY6SMiyELjxMtgX-sWxKn57k0_fgcux1WrRZ3pT7F/s400/Swiss+Home+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348715180650628658" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cyKuownhDzub3N0qZqzvniyouY8rbuViu_5-TeNWEouFkIi4pxayJ6H3JbArrzlTY8S9q_obg1aq4lfa34k3L570eBO9QqhjT234QHtVkC9a9K35nUX4iBZTevHQCM0JDIht/s1600-h/Swiss+Home+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cyKuownhDzub3N0qZqzvniyouY8rbuViu_5-TeNWEouFkIi4pxayJ6H3JbArrzlTY8S9q_obg1aq4lfa34k3L570eBO9QqhjT234QHtVkC9a9K35nUX4iBZTevHQCM0JDIht/s400/Swiss+Home+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348715187064385474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkTib42wh3MF_uckJ_Opd9CXpS1OLxg3EhzTeqfVuNWEI7vNfZQt_lDEFy7mt0kE7zhhk90TlWOm5imdxpdSus7wHHIkbzLd14Q1ghL4XdPrlPl5mP9gVcSp2jah9d6avPdRlo/s1600-h/Swiss+Home+4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 201px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkTib42wh3MF_uckJ_Opd9CXpS1OLxg3EhzTeqfVuNWEI7vNfZQt_lDEFy7mt0kE7zhhk90TlWOm5imdxpdSus7wHHIkbzLd14Q1ghL4XdPrlPl5mP9gVcSp2jah9d6avPdRlo/s400/Swiss+Home+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348715176930317954" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5j7AWxd8_6aQD3QmJubSyi1XniUWsNZzPrlqc0RCyzxS6bBJu8Dv5sPOQWiQd-gATT1-YMAIlueH43flkD_QQ96nNNmxk_5WONthYZunvw0TA8vI7weIo3D6Ikv6ETu6Lnebe/s1600-h/Town+Hall.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5j7AWxd8_6aQD3QmJubSyi1XniUWsNZzPrlqc0RCyzxS6bBJu8Dv5sPOQWiQd-gATT1-YMAIlueH43flkD_QQ96nNNmxk_5WONthYZunvw0TA8vI7weIo3D6Ikv6ETu6Lnebe/s400/Town+Hall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348715167978741298" border="0" /></a>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-36629068801458289432009-05-26T06:40:00.037+08:002009-07-01T03:01:27.485+08:00Return to Islamic MemoriesLong, long ago, I lived in Dearborn, Michigan, the area with the highest concentration of Arabs in North America. Dearborn is 70% Lebanese on the East side of the city of 90,000, and 90% Yemeni in the SE corner, bordered by the Ford plant, an industrial area, and a vast graveyard. Thus no one cares what the Yemeni do there, and they live in their own reality, with the women wearing veils showing only their eyes, and the men gathering in the coffee houses, and the call to prayer going out over the mosque loudspeaker four times a day.<br /><br />This past weekend, I had a chance to visit those places I lived in, back before the world changed on September 11th, and I stopped at the remnants of my people group along the way.<br /><br />I grew up in a <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/1972/02/jesus-people-milwaukee.html">Jesus People commune</a>, where we shared everything in common, living as one rather than as individuals, committed to living in the style of the <a href="http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=112268742">Early Church of Acts</a>. Jesus People Milwaukee broke up in different directions, and we became <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/1973/10/jesus-people-europe_15.html">Jesus People Europe</a>. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjglDYxTvzI/AAAAAAAAC5E/NmpClNjbMzo/s1600-h/1JPUSA+Exterior.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjglDYxTvzI/AAAAAAAAC5E/NmpClNjbMzo/s400/1JPUSA+Exterior.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348065297621565234" border="0" /></a>Another group moved to Florida and various places, eventually settling in Chicago, becoming Jesus People USA, or JPUSA. When <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/1984/03/people-of-highway.html">our community</a> finally ended, JPUSA was the sole remnant of my culture and people group left. Yet I've not been there since I was a child.<br /><br />JPUSA is located in downtown Chicago, where they have been working in inner city ministry for<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjglDERhAqI/AAAAAAAAC48/vD0Luo3tpns/s1600-h/2JPUSA+Worship+Area.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 335px; height: 251px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjglDERhAqI/AAAAAAAAC48/vD0Luo3tpns/s400/2JPUSA+Worship+Area.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348065292119507618" border="0" /></a> decades. When I visited, sadly, most of those I knew (who babysat me) weren't around at the time, but I did get to see the tour of JPUSA's facility, and spend time with my good friend and fellow feminist, Jon Trott. They've renovated an old and infamous hotel, and planted a beautiful prayer garden, outside of the worship hall.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjglC5eAPbI/AAAAAAAAC40/MvD1zxCwS5Q/s1600-h/3Cross+at+JPUSA.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 274px; height: 375px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjglC5eAPbI/AAAAAAAAC40/MvD1zxCwS5Q/s400/3Cross+at+JPUSA.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348065289219095986" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgkxFFJ87I/AAAAAAAAC4k/EIuAPmFa8J4/s1600-h/5Jon+Trott.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 202px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgkxFFJ87I/AAAAAAAAC4k/EIuAPmFa8J4/s400/5Jon+Trott.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348064983098454962" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgkxO-lhUI/AAAAAAAAC4s/aMK1HpjbKIA/s1600-h/4JPUSA+Garden.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgkxO-lhUI/AAAAAAAAC4s/aMK1HpjbKIA/s400/4JPUSA+Garden.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348064985755256130" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjgkw9NHVRI/AAAAAAAAC4c/H9tqWqryk0A/s1600-h/6St.+Alphonsus.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjgkw9NHVRI/AAAAAAAAC4c/H9tqWqryk0A/s400/6St.+Alphonsus.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348064980984354066" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUSR5xTYDdgAb-yQPJrXxHh3QbMIZGlAzMbBZkQIHQ5BMfK_tfD6VJ-qS03hT_3h41Ukl_2C_B1uUjsSCqOB5_apSmU15uyg8mAaIQ50QwHzOkfKnt_oxAwHj7kIEXNMxvtNJ/s1600-h/No+Pennies.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 325px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUSR5xTYDdgAb-yQPJrXxHh3QbMIZGlAzMbBZkQIHQ5BMfK_tfD6VJ-qS03hT_3h41Ukl_2C_B1uUjsSCqOB5_apSmU15uyg8mAaIQ50QwHzOkfKnt_oxAwHj7kIEXNMxvtNJ/s400/No+Pennies.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350198699115043570" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgjQZPZCJI/AAAAAAAAC38/XtitaRWcCms/s1600-h/10Curious+Bird.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgjQZPZCJI/AAAAAAAAC38/XtitaRWcCms/s400/10Curious+Bird.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348063322062784658" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgkwdVtHeI/AAAAAAAAC4M/v3TeXn8EPsw/s1600-h/8Hemlock+Park+-+Field+Trip+Location.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 147px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgkwdVtHeI/AAAAAAAAC4M/v3TeXn8EPsw/s400/8Hemlock+Park+-+Field+Trip+Location.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348064972430450146" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgkwhFWCcI/AAAAAAAAC4U/NaR0QxoPakg/s1600-h/7Hemlock+Park+-+alwahat+alinjilliyah+Worship+Place.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 210px; height: 159px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgkwhFWCcI/AAAAAAAAC4U/NaR0QxoPakg/s400/7Hemlock+Park+-+alwahat+alinjilliyah+Worship+Place.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348064973435570626" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgjQuPU7MI/AAAAAAAAC4E/Wg1NvLdmnvA/s1600-h/9Erin+looking+in+at+alwahat+alinjilliyah+Worship+Place.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 144px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgjQuPU7MI/AAAAAAAAC4E/Wg1NvLdmnvA/s400/9Erin+looking+in+at+alwahat+alinjilliyah+Worship+Place.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348063327699659970" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgjQP7iBoI/AAAAAAAAC30/0jmvRgeMEaw/s1600-h/11Douglass.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 289px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgjQP7iBoI/AAAAAAAAC30/0jmvRgeMEaw/s400/11Douglass.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348063319563568770" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Then, on to Dearborn, Michigan. The journey took much longer than we expected, due to Chicago traffic, so we got in very late, and went for the first hotel we could find- a rather dingy affair, though with humorous coke machines. At two in the morning I was on Priceline searching for better rooms.<br /><br />My first in-class teaching experience was there, for half a year, teaching biology and learning the ropes on the job on how to manage a class, at St. Alphonsus High School- now sadly no longer a high school. This is the adjoining church.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I took the kids on a short field trip to nearby Hemlock Park, to learn how to observe life <span style="font-style: italic;">in situ</span>, observing plants and animals in a local park. The goal was to find as many samples of life as possible, and observe all their features in detail.<br /><br />Hemlock Park was where my church, alwahat alinjilliyah, used to meet as well, in a community center shed in the park. While we were there, a baby bird floundered to the ground, and hopped up to my feet, confused or curious, asking, "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mother-Bright-Early-Board-Books/dp/0679890475">Are you my momma?</a>"<br /><br />After visiting the church and field trip site, we found my old friend Douglass, and had great Arabic food at Siraj- and rose water ice cream!<br /><br />This is seriously an ice cream that should be available all over the country. It is clearly the finest ice cream there is. Rose water is a common ingredient in Middle Eastern cuisine. I discovered it in the book, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Day-Ahmeds-Secret-Florence-Parry/dp/0688140238/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1245274551&sr=1-1">The Day of Ahmad's Secret</a>, which I bought at the annual Arab-American Festival in Dearborn, when I was a children's librarian at the African-American <a href="http://www.cornerstoneschools.org/">Cornerstone Schools</a> in Detroit. Part of his secret (which I won't reveal so as not to<br />give away the end) is found on the way past the rose-water seller. After I taught all the 2nd and 3rd graders to write their names in Arabic, I then treated them to rose water ice cream, bought at the ice cream parlor, Shatilla. And surprise! Shatila is still here in Dearborn, at a new fancy location, and beautiful, beautiful rose water ice cream.<br /><br />There is only one place in the world where America is North of Canada, so while in Dearborn, we took a trip down South to Canada, going through Detroit down to Windsor. There we found...Canadian leaves!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgjP5HA3uI/AAAAAAAAC3s/JZaz7o1lcWg/s1600-h/12Canadian+Leaves.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgjP5HA3uI/AAAAAAAAC3s/JZaz7o1lcWg/s400/12Canadian+Leaves.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348063313437712098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5sOSSpj8-r534ku6olgQvfjXv7HrzqFP_C0_L96uTz9MbVtftXxrtNh0or7EzWcxX6Zc5Q9XgKx_qbEjbycsdNBq8J5wKsDE1FLwsumA5o7rXvC-gGFYx8dtQ8xTDGLlKy9l/s1600-h/Jed's+Towing.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_5sOSSpj8-r534ku6olgQvfjXv7HrzqFP_C0_L96uTz9MbVtftXxrtNh0or7EzWcxX6Zc5Q9XgKx_qbEjbycsdNBq8J5wKsDE1FLwsumA5o7rXvC-gGFYx8dtQ8xTDGLlKy9l/s400/Jed's+Towing.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350198689207077026" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7guIloZ66Merd1AsYNHOho8jKcgWzCJxNKh7Mj_40Bm7aaqW8KCcpM83CiUaY5ofpJzMF3rss9zfkuB62pmAMRlvc7mU4JpZJsTLidRxAb4j70E1egDLgTACwE3VePMKnAWXd/s1600-h/Free+Legal+Aid+for+the+Mosque.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7guIloZ66Merd1AsYNHOho8jKcgWzCJxNKh7Mj_40Bm7aaqW8KCcpM83CiUaY5ofpJzMF3rss9zfkuB62pmAMRlvc7mU4JpZJsTLidRxAb4j70E1egDLgTACwE3VePMKnAWXd/s400/Free+Legal+Aid+for+the+Mosque.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350198679664121138" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TtzSvDVOjRIEp-Zvi_iy51wa837LNSvzq73dzv2nNx59cp9_gEDFxYbt950h-_QIj8vH2zj9h6MzCivuQ-b9i1JMlKW_nw1jzXe_hDg-YzK1eL7Z4BRhNX5fodH2BtInCn8_/s1600-h/GM+Center.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TtzSvDVOjRIEp-Zvi_iy51wa837LNSvzq73dzv2nNx59cp9_gEDFxYbt950h-_QIj8vH2zj9h6MzCivuQ-b9i1JMlKW_nw1jzXe_hDg-YzK1eL7Z4BRhNX5fodH2BtInCn8_/s400/GM+Center.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350198685050374434" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjlwDuOw-fI/AAAAAAAAC5M/DqcTpaAULDw/s1600-h/Special+Tea%21.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjlwDuOw-fI/AAAAAAAAC5M/DqcTpaAULDw/s400/Special+Tea%21.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348429241731054066" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgivNWEnEI/AAAAAAAAC3c/iZk8CVV0-uQ/s1600-h/13Canadian+Mural+with+Erin+II.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 190px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgivNWEnEI/AAAAAAAAC3c/iZk8CVV0-uQ/s400/13Canadian+Mural+with+Erin+II.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348062751933897794" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7YXIEkE6KqzxNqlxO7MYt-SRFx1lv_VaaxPyCyVXANRnTZK0GLYS30TUr47MH2ai5fmIH72GrXmTtdb95DM3OpDgjewdLC4RT1craRUPvWXrfIbyQYCvDK3YdZXIA0yvhQVEc/s1600-h/US-Canada.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 261px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7YXIEkE6KqzxNqlxO7MYt-SRFx1lv_VaaxPyCyVXANRnTZK0GLYS30TUr47MH2ai5fmIH72GrXmTtdb95DM3OpDgjewdLC4RT1craRUPvWXrfIbyQYCvDK3YdZXIA0yvhQVEc/s400/US-Canada.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350203365476750946" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />There is a wealth of others sights in Canada, of course. My towing company. Free Legal Aid for the Nuthouse. The remnants of the once mighty American economy (GM), as seen from the safety of Canada.<br /><br />I knew there was this great Irish pub in Windsor, where you could get ostrich burger. We looked and looked, only to be told that the locals knew of this restaurant- and it was closed. We settled for an Italian place with fancy coffees. Since I don't agree that coffee should ever be drunk, I asked if they could gussy up some tea for me- and wallah- Fancy Vanilla Tea!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgiuPqVGgI/AAAAAAAAC28/EgiJ1RJCW4E/s1600-h/18Ancient+Medical+Text+II.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgiuPqVGgI/AAAAAAAAC28/EgiJ1RJCW4E/s400/18Ancient+Medical+Text+II.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348062735375866370" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgiVMhy_-I/AAAAAAAAC20/vC2Pey3Mk8Q/s1600-h/19Ancient+Medical+Text.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 190px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgiVMhy_-I/AAAAAAAAC20/vC2Pey3Mk8Q/s320/19Ancient+Medical+Text.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348062305038041058" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />For a delightful moment, I was in two countries at once! (I am very confused about my allegiances.)<br /><br />Upon returning to the States, we stopped by at the <a href="http://www.arabamericanmuseum.org/">Arab Museum</a> in Dearborn. There was some semblance of this before I left in '01, but they had poured millions into a new location, and it showed. Though the majority of the museum (on the second floor) is merely models showing Arab American immigration, there is some small collection of artifacts and interesting history. I enjoyed mostly the main floor, with it's segmentation of Arab history. I went immediately over to the writing and calligraphy section, but stoped by the ancient medical texts as well.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Uu2Aff2RykwSghlfnQtKEm3Bs8DBLjvV5AafEOgA12uw9dtsjV5RkZeSIghesJ9iIDaYpKOg-rasiT0y0ZYZA8GMjC_XPmqKrDwEaI92vMZaUbo_Myd8T-buboSHyqnLgwD9/s1600-h/Immigration+Area+at+the+Arab+Museum.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Uu2Aff2RykwSghlfnQtKEm3Bs8DBLjvV5AafEOgA12uw9dtsjV5RkZeSIghesJ9iIDaYpKOg-rasiT0y0ZYZA8GMjC_XPmqKrDwEaI92vMZaUbo_Myd8T-buboSHyqnLgwD9/s320/Immigration+Area+at+the+Arab+Museum.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348440567655813442" border="0" /></a><br />On the second floor was the immigrant diaramas, and the planned Khalil Khalil Gibran exhibit, perhaps the greatest modern Arab poet, writer of the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Prophet-Kahlil-Gibran/dp/0394404289/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1245280403&sr=8-1">The Prophet</a>, with one of his paintings on loan to the museum.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjl0KmnViWI/AAAAAAAAC5U/9GNmWUQWvP0/s1600-h/Khalil+Khalil+Jibran%27s+Memorial.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjl0KmnViWI/AAAAAAAAC5U/9GNmWUQWvP0/s400/Khalil+Khalil+Jibran%27s+Memorial.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348433757992225122" border="0" /></a> When I <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=27858&id=513198705">visited Lebanon</a>, I made a point of stopping at Gibran's gravesite<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgiUbn79nI/AAAAAAAAC2c/PA_4UNEW6lg/s1600-h/22Khalil+Khalil+Gibran+Painting.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgiUbn79nI/AAAAAAAAC2c/PA_4UNEW6lg/s320/22Khalil+Khalil+Gibran+Painting.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348062291910456946" border="0" /></a> below the last stand of cedars in the Middle East, above Qadisha Gorge where the Maronite patriarchs are buried. While Gibran's poetry is beautiful, I wanted most to go to the site to see his favorite tapestry hanging above his grave. It's a 400-year-old picture of Jesus, on the cross- smiling. I took a picture, which sadly didn't come out, and I've never been able to find the picture online over the years since.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjl21iPd2hI/AAAAAAAAC5c/xxLv6KWYEd0/s1600-h/Ceiling+of+the+Arabic+Museum.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjl21iPd2hI/AAAAAAAAC5c/xxLv6KWYEd0/s400/Ceiling+of+the+Arabic+Museum.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348436694575995410" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />But perhaps the finest part of the museum is when you enter, and look up. There, above you, is exquisitely crafted Arabesque art, equaled only in one other place in town.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1UmyeewMQ1IySBvQLBADok3nFHhplh-qAIXhykZt_4SA7JkOF23sh_TRz6y6eUQN2mOcI0x-laIs4T9_HkxzYbZO3ddCbGktfEm-uym2YhA1DTLAM4_MD0qwcJ40jzI4GDds/s1600-h/My+old+door.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1UmyeewMQ1IySBvQLBADok3nFHhplh-qAIXhykZt_4SA7JkOF23sh_TRz6y6eUQN2mOcI0x-laIs4T9_HkxzYbZO3ddCbGktfEm-uym2YhA1DTLAM4_MD0qwcJ40jzI4GDds/s200/My+old+door.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350216913631855682" border="0" /></a><br />On another evening, we made our way down to the South End, Dix, to where the Yemeni are, and I visited my old home, with its holes in the wall and plagues of insects and the mail being delivered <span style="font-style: italic;">insha'allah</span>, when God willed it. (See pink door.) There were some cool pictures and video of that sweetest sound on Earth, the mosque <span style="font-style: italic;">athan</span>, the call to prayer. I was able to pick up some new Yemeni clothing (<span style="font-style: italic;">thobe</span>) and the sweet bread, and I had the wonderful national dish of salta, a hot spicy soup, at the local restaurant.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguMnP_NuQlshhi7QqmXskWja8_4ecsQIa-7QWjNdwdgj0-ctUsAPmBVo2LWWPhv3ftITOTyYiPn_0jW8Opp3bmSED42fFk_hNYDz-9vlnydup24MMK2ofvAjBjEcCYwX2ci2nJ/s1600-h/Dearborn+Yemeni+Mosque.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguMnP_NuQlshhi7QqmXskWja8_4ecsQIa-7QWjNdwdgj0-ctUsAPmBVo2LWWPhv3ftITOTyYiPn_0jW8Opp3bmSED42fFk_hNYDz-9vlnydup24MMK2ofvAjBjEcCYwX2ci2nJ/s400/Dearborn+Yemeni+Mosque.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350198676885358722" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/cOzhgeGX8BM&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/cOzhgeGX8BM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />Afterwards we adjourned to a hookah bar, where I got my first taste of hookah after far too long, a delightful mint and rose blend. (Yes, I do love my roses.) Then I rushed over to the local Tobaccy and got blackberry and rose tobacco to go with the new hookah I'd picked up the day before (at the same superstore where I bought my brother a sword so long ago- to this day his favorite present ever from me).<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/H4WRDSwq99Q&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/H4WRDSwq99Q&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjghrTDsOZI/AAAAAAAAC2E/SRbJ-YB2jco/s1600-h/25Orthodox+Church+from+Inside+Mosque.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 199px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjghrTDsOZI/AAAAAAAAC2E/SRbJ-YB2jco/s320/25Orthodox+Church+from+Inside+Mosque.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348061585236310418" border="0" /></a>Our last stop was at the <a href="http://www.icofa.com/">grand mosque</a> of Dearborn. When I left, they had just bought the property, on Alter Road, where there are five other churches. Now it is built. To the left you can see an image of one of those churches, a Greek Orthodox. All told, there is a Catholic, two Orthodox, an Arabic Protestant, and a high church and low church Protestant church along this road, next to the mosque. I'm just saying, block parties must be very interesting there.<br /><br />The interior is incredibly beautiful, with calligraphy to rival anything in the Middle East (and incidentally the Arab-American Museum in Dearborn), all in praise of God, and Mohammed, and Ali. You could tell it was a Shi'i mosque because of the focus of Ali as an equal to Mohammed, in the placement of the calligraphy icons. But the rules were a bit Byzantine (yes, I know) for being allowed to publish interior photographs, so you'll just have to be satisfied with the beauty of the exterior.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjghq3VZOeI/AAAAAAAAC18/AO6Xrl3bKQw/s1600-h/26Grand+Mosque+Front+Door.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 173px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjghq3VZOeI/AAAAAAAAC18/AO6Xrl3bKQw/s320/26Grand+Mosque+Front+Door.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348061577794370018" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgiUDZ4dDI/AAAAAAAAC2U/Bkoo09pml4Q/s1600-h/23Grand+Mosque+Towers.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgiUDZ4dDI/AAAAAAAAC2U/Bkoo09pml4Q/s320/23Grand+Mosque+Towers.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348062285409055794" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjghrckf1cI/AAAAAAAAC2M/ekLlXBCNfd0/s1600-h/24Grand+Mosque.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 218px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjghrckf1cI/AAAAAAAAC2M/ekLlXBCNfd0/s320/24Grand+Mosque.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348061587789829570" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgjPv8A32I/AAAAAAAAC3k/pdc7LVOaTTc/s1600-h/27Grand+Mosque+Front.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 423px; height: 317px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjgjPv8A32I/AAAAAAAAC3k/pdc7LVOaTTc/s400/27Grand+Mosque+Front.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348063310975655778" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And then. And then. On the way back, just after I had lamented that there were <span style="font-style: italic;">no</span> Del Tacos in the Midwest, which are frankly far superior to Taco Bell in terms of authenticity, there, in Jainesville, we saw the sign...for Del Taco. We stopped, and got some very good, very authentic tacos. The take-away from this? (Yes, that's <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjghqV95ECI/AAAAAAAAC1s/08gU8yXYFjw/s1600-h/28Del+Taco.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 236px; height: 178px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjghqV95ECI/AAAAAAAAC1s/08gU8yXYFjw/s320/28Del+Taco.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348061568837423138" border="0" /></a>right.) Visit Jainesville just for their Taco Bell. If they don't get enough business, they'll close. If they do, they'll open up two new branches next year in Madison!Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-67021579613292711142009-05-11T02:41:00.031+08:002009-06-17T06:29:20.639+08:00Aquarium With the Water That Which Tastes BadI recently found there is <a href="http://www.mississippirivermuseum.com/">a freshwater aquarium</a> a couple hours away, along the Mississippi in DuBuque. Granted, the water tastes all wrong, not having the salt of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sea-around-Us-Rachel-Carson/dp/0451618734/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1245183391&sr=8-2">our mother from whence we all came</a> and shall one day return. But it's the closest I'm going to get to aquatic species out here.<br /><br />They have fish and surprisingly for this oceanic observer, amphibians; feathered and non-feathered reptiles; and mammals. But we began with a little lesson in alluvial soil erosion.<br /><br /><p><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mY-etUDjqEg&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mY-etUDjqEg&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /></p>Mississippi fish are <em>big</em>! Each was at least five feet long.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShMA8Odob7I/AAAAAAAACyU/XC8ibLYXnvY/s1600-h/Big+Fish+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 400px; float: left; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337611018038702002" alt="These guys are all about five feet long." src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShMA8Odob7I/AAAAAAAACyU/XC8ibLYXnvY/s400/Big+Fish+2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShMA8Odob7I/AAAAAAAACyU/XC8ibLYXnvY/s1600-h/Big+Fish+2.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShMA7x0ONsI/AAAAAAAACyM/ka6ufEDAwbA/s1600-h/Big+Fish+1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 400px; float: right; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337611010348824258" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShMA7x0ONsI/AAAAAAAACyM/ka6ufEDAwbA/s400/Big+Fish+1.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShL_O882tsI/AAAAAAAACyE/LNn-5iUotZs/s1600-h/Big+Fish+3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 400px; float: left; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337609140732081858" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShL_O882tsI/AAAAAAAACyE/LNn-5iUotZs/s400/Big+Fish+3.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShMIn6JibeI/AAAAAAAAC0E/KFEdwidOfrU/s1600-h/Sturgeon.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 400px; float: right; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337619465081351650" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShMIn6JibeI/AAAAAAAAC0E/KFEdwidOfrU/s400/Sturgeon.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfjMcOtkEI/AAAAAAAAC0k/oV5FsmJ6xoc/s1600-h/Frog+3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 400px; float: left; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347992885401587778" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfjMcOtkEI/AAAAAAAAC0k/oV5FsmJ6xoc/s400/Frog+3.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfjM9JrSfI/AAAAAAAAC00/SnCLEFxd1aA/s1600-h/Salamander.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 259px; float: right; height: 194px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347992894238837234" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfjM9JrSfI/AAAAAAAAC00/SnCLEFxd1aA/s400/Salamander.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfjLo7aXEI/AAAAAAAAC0U/6PdS7PBJ43s/s1600-h/Frog+1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 330px; float: left; height: 210px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347992871630429250" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfjLo7aXEI/AAAAAAAAC0U/6PdS7PBJ43s/s400/Frog+1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjflAiuAnCI/AAAAAAAAC1k/c8JgX1iMbr4/s1600-h/Treefrog.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 258px; float: left; height: 193px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347994880008297506" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjflAiuAnCI/AAAAAAAAC1k/c8JgX1iMbr4/s320/Treefrog.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShMHUQgzFtI/AAAAAAAACzs/1WUpOjEDMfQ/s1600-h/Kestrel.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 288px; float: right; height: 184px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337618027975481042" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShMHUQgzFtI/AAAAAAAACzs/1WUpOjEDMfQ/s400/Kestrel.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShL_OZqMzyI/AAAAAAAACx0/PhEr3K8C46U/s1600-h/Alligators.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 397px; float: left; height: 250px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337609131258597154" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShL_OZqMzyI/AAAAAAAACx0/PhEr3K8C46U/s400/Alligators.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p></p><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShL_OE-KarI/AAAAAAAACxs/SEdngPrEsew/s1600-h/Alligator+in+Boat.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 368px; float: right; height: 301px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337609125705181874" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShL_OE-KarI/AAAAAAAACxs/SEdngPrEsew/s400/Alligator+in+Boat.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfkkGEboVI/AAAAAAAAC08/C5NQPyuRQpI/s1600-h/Albino+Alligator.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 400px; float: left; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347994391281377618" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfkkGEboVI/AAAAAAAAC08/C5NQPyuRQpI/s400/Albino+Alligator.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></p><p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfklQTFbyI/AAAAAAAAC1c/A7JtNgcb8BA/s1600-h/Doing+what+they+Otter+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 400px; float: right; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347994411207061282" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfklQTFbyI/AAAAAAAAC1c/A7JtNgcb8BA/s400/Doing+what+they+Otter+2.JPG" border="0" /></a> </p><p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjfkk8zNdcI/AAAAAAAAC1M/QuBFTnEAThM/s1600-h/Doing+what+they+Otter+3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 400px; float: left; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347994405973095874" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sjfkk8zNdcI/AAAAAAAAC1M/QuBFTnEAThM/s400/Doing+what+they+Otter+3.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfklOqi83I/AAAAAAAAC1U/uOXobew8tFI/s1600-h/Doing+what+they+Otter+1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 278px; float: right; height: 184px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347994410768593778" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfklOqi83I/AAAAAAAAC1U/uOXobew8tFI/s400/Doing+what+they+Otter+1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfkklmpLBI/AAAAAAAAC1E/x5WT7K8YpN0/s1600-h/Doing+what+they+Otter+4.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 400px; float: left; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347994399746370578" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SjfkklmpLBI/AAAAAAAAC1E/x5WT7K8YpN0/s400/Doing+what+they+Otter+4.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShMHU-J6zDI/AAAAAAAACz0/OhnbpKfJtWA/s1600-h/Petting+the+Sturgeon+2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 300px; float: right; height: 400px; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337618040227548210" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/ShMHU-J6zDI/AAAAAAAACz0/OhnbpKfJtWA/s400/Petting+the+Sturgeon+2.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>This guy is just sitting there waiting for the owner of the boat to return...<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>They aren't as smart as <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-never-do-this.html">their marine cousins</a>, but they have a whole lot more fun.<br /><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Yes! At this aquarium, you get to touch the sturgeon head!</p>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-29288877635132479322009-04-20T12:50:00.007+08:002009-07-03T02:47:20.473+08:00ROUSes, Quaint Coffeeshops, and Gaming<span class="fullpost"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SfDlGIADhXI/AAAAAAAACw4/5Hpg73EgfyY/s1600-h/Fearsome+Mouse+and+Girlfriend.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328010252568986994" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SfDlGIADhXI/AAAAAAAACw4/5Hpg73EgfyY/s400/Fearsome+Mouse+and+Girlfriend.JPG" border="0" /></a>In the light of day, much of what we fear loses its potency. <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2009/03/decorah-days.html">Scary Ass Mouse</a> quite definitely had a different feel to him today. It appears it only requires the right accessories to turn fearsome into the ultimate in cuteness.<br /><br /></span>Fennimore is an exceptionally small but delightful town. We spent the day there, halfway between Madison and Decorah, relaxing in the atmosphere.<span class="fullpost"> There are bike trails just outside of town, where Erin prepared for her MS150 across Wisconsin, and I struggled to keep up. (Note the beginning of a recurring theme.) The countryside, unspoiled by glacial scarring, is like something out of Celtic lore, with winding creeks unstraightened, and stark lone trees, laying claim to the bend in the river.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SfDrdBUuBOI/AAAAAAAACxQ/rc2jOvQg1DA/s1600-h/Tree+Near+Winding+Creek.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328017242983367906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SfDrdBUuBOI/AAAAAAAACxQ/rc2jOvQg1DA/s400/Tree+Near+Winding+Creek.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SfDlF7bbiBI/AAAAAAAACww/2nwxYjwGN-E/s1600-h/A+Place+for+a+Home.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328010249194145810" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SfDlF7bbiBI/AAAAAAAACww/2nwxYjwGN-E/s400/A+Place+for+a+Home.JPG" border="0" /></a>I think I found the perfect place to build a home, between the trees, abutting the river.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SfDlGRPPYwI/AAAAAAAACxA/4ZW80278x-0/s1600-h/Fennimore+Coffee+Shop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328010255048598274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SfDlGRPPYwI/AAAAAAAACxA/4ZW80278x-0/s400/Fennimore+Coffee+Shop.JPG" border="0" /></a> In search of a place to finish our election game we'd started the week before, we found the perfect coffee shop, run by a very friendly family. We talked with the proprietor for perhaps half an hour, learning all about his adventures teaching in Saudi Arabia, and discovered we had much in common. (Erin won the Election Game.)<br /><br />Our final stop was bowling at the local alley. Erin obtained near double my score; I was striving to copy Obama. You can see here her form was far superior to mine.<br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZVXIYHUJyA4&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZVXIYHUJyA4&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/C_AU7sGRE6I&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/C_AU7sGRE6I&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/sB4TfQ9wAtw&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sB4TfQ9wAtw&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />We then tried for a game of Settlers,a game we're both passionate about, and I learned to appreciate when in Morocco. This was the Sea-Faring Settlers, particularly attractive because of the ocean. I'll give you two guesses as to who one this game. (I had to continue repeating my personal mantra. "It's not whether you win or lose. It's how you lay the blame." I was...insufficiently prepared for such a formidable opponent. Which probably makes it my parents fault.)<br /><br />Fear not though. There was this game of Scrabble that I won, once, long ago... I'll just have to adjust to dating an incredibly intelligent and able woman.<br /><br />And play more games of chance.<br /></span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-69059157955080653272009-04-09T06:02:00.012+08:002009-04-14T23:55:43.854+08:00My Neighborhood is Burning!<span class="fullpost"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sd4usr2U1tI/AAAAAAAACvY/jw_K-vPIkSM/s1600-h/DSCF0661.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322743154818209490" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 335px; cursor: pointer; height: 238px;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sd4usr2U1tI/AAAAAAAACvY/jw_K-vPIkSM/s400/DSCF0661.JPG" border="0" /></a></span>As today was a bit warmer, I thought I'd take advantage of the weather for a walk up the <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2008/10/country-out-thar.html">nearby hill</a>. But just around the corner, I discovered a great burning sensation.<span class="fullpost"><br /><br />The neighboring farmer was burning the field next to the creek that borders his land and our neighborhood, in order to keep trees from growing too large and clogging up the creek with their roots. I would think that trees help reduce erosion, but he said these are the wrong kind of trees.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sd4xCvTWOwI/AAAAAAAACvo/Y5nrkEQ2l2Y/s1600-h/DSCF0663.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322745732725619458" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; width: 276px; cursor: pointer; height: 204px;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sd4xCvTWOwI/AAAAAAAACvo/Y5nrkEQ2l2Y/s400/DSCF0663.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tNQ0POtjhy4&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tNQ0POtjhy4&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sd4vwCYW1_I/AAAAAAAACvg/1mG7N8srhHg/s1600-h/DSCF0662.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322744311917762546" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; width: 336px; cursor: pointer; height: 234px;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sd4vwCYW1_I/AAAAAAAACvg/1mG7N8srhHg/s400/DSCF0662.JPG" border="0" /></a>The result was a controlled burn and a partially blackened field, reminding me of the plausible origins of my own name- "island of fire" from burning fields to prepare the land for crops in Finland.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDARChK37I/AAAAAAAACvw/T9QnkgZjBrs/s1600-h/DSCF0666.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323466158518230962" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 300px;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDARChK37I/AAAAAAAACvw/T9QnkgZjBrs/s400/DSCF0666.JPG" border="0" /></a>Another fire burning in the distance framed the disturbed birds. The same farmer told me he had actually dedicated this wetlands as a federal bird sanctuary flyway, where he could hunt birds in season, and the rest of the birds could find a place to relax in their travels North and South.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDARTChx6I/AAAAAAAACv4/D4y44KhfZvc/s1600-h/DSCF0668.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323466162953111458" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; width: 340px; cursor: pointer; height: 246px;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDARTChx6I/AAAAAAAACv4/D4y44KhfZvc/s400/DSCF0668.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDARiwbi2I/AAAAAAAACwA/cjGE9LyRasI/s1600-h/DSCF0669.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323466167172172642" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; width: 239px; cursor: pointer; height: 301px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDARiwbi2I/AAAAAAAACwA/cjGE9LyRasI/s400/DSCF0669.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDASPwN-DI/AAAAAAAACwQ/FHdYynndqOc/s1600-h/DSCF0671.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323466179250878514" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; width: 214px; cursor: pointer; height: 283px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDASPwN-DI/AAAAAAAACwQ/FHdYynndqOc/s400/DSCF0671.JPG" border="0" /></a>At the top of the hill I found a rusty can, riddled with holes, and spent casings on the ground below. All next to the quarry- for the farmer told me that was indeed what it was, lending greater credence to my <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2008/10/through-meadow-there-go-i.html">earlier rendition</a> of the plot of Brother Sun Sister Moon.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDAR3How0I/AAAAAAAACwI/Wvt0OjS3SfY/s1600-h/DSCF0670.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323466172638217026" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: right; width: 254px; cursor: pointer; height: 190px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDAR3How0I/AAAAAAAACwI/Wvt0OjS3SfY/s400/DSCF0670.JPG" border="0" /></a></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDCrgcxIdI/AAAAAAAACwY/dr6jsL6z9Is/s1600-h/DSCF0674.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323468812252684754" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 300px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDCrgcxIdI/AAAAAAAACwY/dr6jsL6z9Is/s400/DSCF0674.JPG" border="0" /></a><span class="fullpost"><br />Returning down the hill, I felt a bit like Moses, <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Exodus%2032.7-19;&version=65;">shocked in his return down the mountain with the stone tablets</a>. I looked down, and it appeared as if my entire neighborhood was burning.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDCr1mu6aI/AAAAAAAACwg/Rdw4bpzQVpw/s1600-h/DSCF0675.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323468817931626914" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 400px; cursor: pointer; height: 300px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDCr1mu6aI/AAAAAAAACwg/Rdw4bpzQVpw/s400/DSCF0675.JPG" border="0" /></a><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0qxJ6qUGeLQ&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0qxJ6qUGeLQ&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDCsCRzQII/AAAAAAAACwo/22CPPQlGl5U/s1600-h/DSCF0678.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323468821333491842" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 250px; cursor: pointer; height: 183px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SeDCsCRzQII/AAAAAAAACwo/22CPPQlGl5U/s400/DSCF0678.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />I experienced one last thrill, walking on the straight path, <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Daniel%203%20;&version=65;">between the flames like Shadrach, Meshack, and Abednego</a>, and pointed the camera straight into the smoke cloud. This is what smoke looks like, while you're choking and have your eyes closed and are hoping your foot doesn't step into the flame.<br /></span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-64848957807291746142009-04-01T01:03:00.007+08:002009-04-02T05:12:19.994+08:00Behold, I am the Resurrection and the LifeIt is a common misconception that Jesus was dead for three days. It was actually a day and a half. He was killed Friday afternoon, and resurrected Sunday morning. But what if he'd died on Sunday, and been resurrected on Tuesday? And what if he was a car? Then you have my Saturn. <span class="fullpost"><br /><br />(Yes, I recognize the irony, Saturn being the Roman god of agriculture. Is this sacrilegious? I can never tell...)<br /><br />I must praise God, for the good work he has done. Just a few minutes ago I got a call expressing surprise. My mechanic, <a href="http://www.meffertoil.blogspot.com/">Meffert Oil</a>, had a welder look at the car, and the welder came running out, to tell the mechanic that he <em>had</em> to see this. My mechanic was then greatly concerned, thinking, "Oh, no? Is it worse? Is there a hole in the engine?" Well, it turns out both they and Sears didn't initially see the real problem- it was buried that deeply. When they looked again, they discovered it was only a bolt missing. All that would be needed was a replacement of a bolt, and the fan belt, which had shredded from the movement of the alternator, all for around $180! (So high for labor, for the alternator is buried deep in the Saturn, for it is such a poorly designed car.) So, thanks to amazing work by Meffert Oil, who always takes care of their customers, I'm off to return the rental car two days early and pick up my car today- for 1/10th of the repair cost, when I thought the car was dead, without hope for resurrection. Truly, <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2%20Timothy%202.13;&version=49;">if we are faithless, he will remain faithful, for he cannot deny himself</a>.<br /></span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-9834815927377733412009-03-31T05:06:00.007+08:002009-04-01T23:46:38.922+08:00Why Cars SuckI took the car in today. The news is not good. I had to take a cab into the airport and get a rental car for the week, to get to work, and was told they would be able to take a look at my car on Wednesday, and it should take up to a couple weeks to fix it, if the worst were true. However, they couldn't imagine that Sears Automotive was correct- it didn't make sense that a loose alternator could have destroyed the engine.<br /><br />Then around noon I got a call from the repair shop saying that they had actually found a whole in their schedule, and were able to take a look at it. <span class="fullpost">The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">body shop</span> had come over and looked at it, and had determined the <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2009/02/high-speed-run-in.html">accident</a> definitely did not cause this current problem. However, </span>Sears was correct.<span class="fullpost"> The alternator had come loose from it's moorings, and was no longer attached to the engine. The engine would have to be removed, and the alternator <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">rewelded</span> to the engine. That was a beginning- there might be more problems with the engine. Engine removal would cost $1200, and my mechanic doesn't do welding, so I have to find someone to pick up the engine and weld it for an at this moment unknown amount. There might be further problems with the engine.<br /><br />Now I've got a decision to make. I'm looking at around $2,000 at least. My dad says that he finds my type of car selling for around $5,000 online, but I think he's thinking of the asking price, before <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">bargaining</span>. <a href="http://www.kbb.com/KBB/UsedCars/PricingReport.aspx?YearId=1996&Mileage=87000&VehicleClass=UsedCar&ManufacturerId=44&ModelId=410&PriceType=Private+Party&VehicleId=9669&SelectionHistory=9669%7C30312%7C53597%7C0%7C0%7C354531%7Ctrue%7C354544%7Ctrue%7C354548%7Ctrue%7C354549%7Ctrue%7C354553%7Ctrue%7C354557%7Ctrue&Condition=Good&QuizConditions">Kelly Blue Book</a> tells me only $2,605. <a href="http://www.edmunds.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Edmunds</span></a> tells me up to $3,500 - what the car is worth, and what one person in the US is selling it at. Either way, that's not a lot of margin, if I fix the car, and then sell it. The alternative is selling it as is, to a guy who knows how to fix cars, for around the same amount of money as I'd profit from if I fixed the car. I'm leaning towards that.<br /><br />But there's not much I can do for a decent used car for $1,000 -$1,500. A scooter might be an option. I don't live on a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">bus line</span>, so to get work I need to have something. The big kicker is, without a car, it'll make it very difficult to visit my girlfriend in Iowa. And this is after all the previous problems with the alternator and starter, in a car with only some 60,000 miles on it.<br /><br />And this is why cars suck.<br /></span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-85418498469729296452009-03-30T09:56:00.013+08:002009-07-03T02:47:02.908+08:00Meeting Friends and Intertwining LivesThis weekend, I got to meet Erin's friends, and she some of mine. It was also a weekend of car troubles. <span class="fullpost">There was a game night of Carcasszone with Erin's friends, who are decidedly pleasant, and meeting others for ice cream at a dairy plant on the UW campus. (Actually, her friends are really rather wicked cool.) Erin came out to my <a href="http://www.livinghopeverona.com/index.php">church</a> for service (and was of course roundly appreciated), and we had plans to get in a last ski of the season- she even brought her skis with her from </span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdKRaAWT3xI/AAAAAAAACvE/rLCQSunyhKY/s1600-h/Me+&+Erin.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319473985834180370" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: right; width: 278px; height: 212px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdKRaAWT3xI/AAAAAAAACvE/rLCQSunyhKY/s400/Me+%26+Erin.jpg" border="0" /></a><span class="fullpost">Iowa- but as you can see, in a matter of hours the 5" of snow had entirely melted. It appears there will be no Swedish Snowdragon this year.<br /><br />There was a play, <a href="http://www.broomstreet.org/archives/2009-02.asp">The Birds That Are Your Hands</a>. It meant well. It had great ideas. Intriguing ideas. The writer had compared the wall being built around the West Bank to the wall we are building between the US and Mexico- something I have commented on in the past <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2007/06/mending-wall.html">here</a>. I had never before considered how there were similarities in the Palestinian people having been in their land for years and the Israelis invading and claiming that the Palestinians were interlopers, and the Mexicans having lived in the Southeast for centuries, until we took their land in the Mexican-American War, now claiming anyone who comes there is an "illegal alien".<br /><br />The play- a series of propaganda vignettes more than any concerted storyline- took place in a small <a href="http://www.broomstreet.org/index.asp">community three-quarter round theatre</a>, with minimalist set. We were both particularly moved by one true story, where a woman lost her baby at an Israeli checkpoint because the soldiers wouldn't let her go forward, though her husband begged and pleaded.<br /><br />It was fairly well written. It wasn't just a good premise. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the directing and acting. I kept on thinking, "I could do a better acting job there." "I could direct that bit better." With a couple notable exceptions, nearly every actor was wooden. The director evidently felt that shouting and "running amok" replaced disciplined emotional expression. The result was not in-your-face so much as instigating boredom. The director felt that shock value (like stripping a guy down to his speedos or simulating sexual assault) was better than honestly dealing with issues in an intelligent and imaginative manner. We found we couldn't take much more, and left at the intermission.<br /><br />But most of this weekend has been taken up with car troubles. Saturday morning my car sputtered to a halt, purely because of carelessness. I'd run out of gas. I began the 10 minute walk to the gas station, ordinarily nothing of significance, but that last snow storm of the season was about to begin, and it was <span style="font-style: italic;">cold</span>. Thankfully a minivan pulled up and offered me a ride to the gas station, and then they waited for me, and drove me back to the car!<br /><br />Having filled up, I thought my troubles were over. It was not to be. For the past couple weeks there has been a squeak when cold and a rattle when warm, coming from under the hood on the passenger side. It sounded like I needed to replace a belt. Then began a death rattle, at first when I turned, and then also when I accelerated, and finally nearly continuously. We stopped at Sears Automotive, and they took a look, and the prognosis is not good. They asked if someone had replaced the alternator. (Someone had- a <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2008/10/kirk-mechanic.html">shadetree mechanic</a> back in October.) Turns out that guy had not put a bolt on right, and it had hit other things in the engine, rubbed up against the drive train, and destroyed the entire engine. Then I asked if <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2009/02/high-speed-run-in.html">the accident</a> two months ago could possibly have caused this, and Sears said it was 95% certain that it did- but they couldn't say for sure as they hadn't seen what the car was like before<a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2009/03/dude-i-got-my-car.html"> the body shop worked on</a> it. (I don't think "95% certainty" means what they think it means.) They recommended it be towed home.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.thecasbahrestaurant.com/images/casbahbanner.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 467px; height: 155px;" src="http://www.thecasbahrestaurant.com/images/casbahbanner.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This seemed to both of us to be overkill,</span> so we headed to a delightful Moroccan restaurant, the only one in town, <a href="http://www.thecasbahrestaurant.com/">Casbah</a>. In warm weather, they have shisha out front, which is something I definitely miss. There are three levels to the Casbah. The lower level is on the left, and the most authentically Moroccan, our natural destination. You can recline on benches with pillows, in the midst of what feels like a dungeon- but in a good way. While the waitresses weren't aware of Arabic or many Moroccan customs, they were certainly very hospitable, and, may I say, the food is to die for. It's reasonably priced by Moroccan-American standards, and the tajine dajej- chicken solid soup- was just like mom used to make it, if my mother were Moroccan. It was just as I remembered it when I lived there.<span class="fullpost"> The tea actually tasted like mint tea with gunpowder, and the qisqisu- cous cous- was far better than the ordinary box variety we get here in the States. <br /><br />Then we headed out to the car. It was now dark, and I noticed immediately that the window was slowing down. The windshield wipers were sluggish, and it seemed there was little light coming out of the headlights. <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-must-really-love-church.html">I've been through this before</a>. Sure enough, as soon as we got to our destination for the gaming night, when I turned the car off and tried to restart it, nothing. The alternator had failed, just as Sears had predicted.<br /><br />I had to get the car towed back with my last AAA tow, and then Erin picked me up for service and the play on Sunday. Tonight I'm trickle charging the car up, and hoping, and praying, that there will be enough juice to get me to the repair shop. But I'm not optimistic. I'll need the body shop to come over and take a look at it too, to determine if the accident caused this problem. Of course, I gave the insurance company of the instigator of the accident a heads up, that there might be further developments, but probably Sears was incorrect, just to be polite. Of course, the insurance rep, Denis of <a href="http://www.superpages.com/bp/Neenah-WI/Chuck-Rafferty-Insurance-Agenc-L2060794170.htm">Chuck Rafferty Insurance</a>, called me back to say that he would be out of town again for the week, and I couldn't reach him until the end of the week, but he was going to respectively decline my request to pursue the insurance matter further. Thus I had to call and leave him a message reminding him that I wasn't saying there was a problem, but only being polite in apprising him of the situation; that I had stated to him earlier that I thought Sears had made a mistake; and that this wasn't a matter of what he might feel was good for his client or not, but a simple matter of fact. If the experts (car repairmen) determined the accident caused it, then his client was at fault; if the experts felt the accident didn't cause it, then his client was off the hook. This is what I've been dealing with with this insurance company.<br /><br />It has thus been a bad weekend for cars. But far outweighed by a delightful weekend in terms of people, and thoughts, and new things beginning.</span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-3088432746989394702009-03-26T07:56:00.006+08:002020-04-01T01:12:47.956+08:00Terrorists Love Too MuchFaithful readers will remember <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2007/10/12907.html">I love my bumper stickers</a>. I like them to be provocative and parabolic, like Jesus was, encouraging people to think, but not offensive just for the sake of offending. Thus, in a liberal area like Seattle, I had a sign saying "Jesus is a Liberal", to reach the liberals. But in a conservative area like the Waunakee countryside, I removed that sticker, as I felt it would be offensive without being provocative. Were I living inside Madison itself, it wouldn't be an issue.<br />
<br />
So imagine my surprise today, when I experienced my first real persecution for following the Light with my stickers. <span class="fullpost">I've had many people read the stickers. I can tell in my rear-view mirror- even what sticker they're reading. Some like them, and even shout out encouragement as they drive by. Others frown in distaste. In the past one woman complained directly to me, about the above bumper sticker, saying that it shouldn't have said "Jesus <em>was</em> a liberal," because Jesus was alive. I thought she made a good point, and so changed it in future versions. Today, I have the obligatory Obama stickers, an IXTHUS fish with legs, a Free Palestine sticker, and two self-made ones, stating "When Jesus said, 'Love your enemies', he didn't mean al Qa'ida, did he?" and "There is that of God in everyone. Even George Bush. Even Osama bin Laden." All very right Quakerly stickers. And seemingly suitable in a city like Madison, if anything bluer than Seattle.<br /><br />On the freeway, a guy was honking at me, and I turned around, probably too long, wondering if I had cut him off in some manner. But we were traveling too fast, and I thought nothing more of it. Then at the off-ramp, the same guy was to my left, motioning insistently for me to roll down my window. I did, and he stated, "Do you know how stupid you are to have those bumper stickers?"<br /><br />I must say, I wasn't prepared for this. I had expected something more congenial. Had I more time, I might have said something more parabolic, like, "Perhaps. But I am obligated to follow Jesus, no matter how stupid that might seem." Or "Love often <em>is</em> stupid." But all I got out was, "God be with you," with a smile, as I rolled up the window. Just in time to hear him say something along the lines of, "You know if you have those stickers, you're just like the terrorists, don't you?"<br /><br />And that got me to thinking. I hope so. Because my stickers were all about love. All about how much God loves everyone, and how we need to emulate that love. So the only reasonable implication by this gentleman was that he was advocating that terrorists love too much.<br /><br />Of course, he was suggesting nothing of the sort; it was only his words that suggested it. He was actually suggesting that I was in some manner providing "aid and comfort" to "America's enemies". But it is precisely this love that is offensive. It is <em>that</em> part of the cross- the part that causes such offense. Many have accused Christianity of being too violent and too power-hungry- and of those who have claimed the name of Christ, our accusers have too often been right. There are others who think it horrible that any religion, including Christianity, would condemn others to hell, for how could a good God do this?<br /><br />And yet, when we get to certain peoples, suddenly the ground shift. Those same accusers, complaining of the lack of liberality in traditional orthodox Christianity, think nothing of condemning Hitler and the Nazis to hell, or even as we saw recently, condemning to hell any one who denies the full scope of the Holocaust. These are certainly great evils, and never to be supported, but there is a certain offense to claim, to even consider, <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2009/03/decorah-days.html">that a good God could love such people</a>. Indeed, how could he? He is good, they are evil. How could it be that God could love us while we were yet sinners? And how could the Christians claim that <em>we</em> happy chosen few are in the same league as Hitler and Osama bin Laden? How could the Quakers claim that, yes, there is that of God in those two as well, for they are also in His image?<br /><br />I have no answers. I don't know. I do know that, forget the Trinity, and the manner in which Jesus is both divine and human. The real mystery of it all is how can God love those who do evil, when he claims that we all do evil? How can there be such love present in the universe, so outpouring.<br /><br />And how can I come to see that, even in those <em>I</em> despise the most, even in those I like the least, there is that of God in them, and they have something to teach me of God? For this is why Christianity is by far, the most offensive of all the religions. </span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-73450652881540562009-03-22T21:52:00.020+08:002009-07-03T02:47:02.915+08:00Decorah DaysThis weekend, I braved the wilds of Iowa. But I had a very good incentive to do so.<span class="fullpost"><br /><br />It's a three hour drive from Verona to Decorah. Uneventful iPod travels, until I reached the small town of Postville. As at that moment I was unaware of the <a href="http://www.thonline.com/article.cfm?id=237532">history</a> of this town, I was shocked to see, coming out of the darkness and the gloom like some sort of Night of the Living, everywhere shadows swathed in black, women in veils and men in large black hats. It was Shabbat, and within seconds of driving into the town, it seemed like there were Hasidic Jews everywhere.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF5nswMPMI/AAAAAAAACts/yNQl-hsLqjQ/s1600-h/Decorah+Building.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319166357836414146" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 318px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF5nswMPMI/AAAAAAAACts/yNQl-hsLqjQ/s400/Decorah+Building.JPG" border="0" /></a> More surprising still, for a town of 2,000, were seeing four police cars in the three minutes it took to drive through town. Actually, more than three minutes, but one of the Jewish families walking by was kind enough to point the way.<br /><br />It was a relaxed two days, getting to know the town and more of Erin's life. We watched one of the finest movies of all time, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buffy_the_Vampire_Slayer_(film)">Buffy the Vampire Slayer</a> (<em>deep</em> Christological allegories), and played a couple games with one of her friends, as the other friends were off for Spring Break. Then Erin took me for a walk through a very quaint and beautiful town, in the midst of the bluffs of glacial moraines in Northeast Iowa.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF5oFSc2_I/AAAAAAAACt8/8pBOMlk1gEc/s1600-h/Decorah+Towers.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319166364422560754" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 363px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 270px" alt="The Four Towers of Decorah" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF5oFSc2_I/AAAAAAAACt8/8pBOMlk1gEc/s400/Decorah+Towers.JPG" border="0" /></a><span class="fullpost"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF5n46bpKI/AAAAAAAACt0/h2E0FkDzrL0/s1600-h/Decorah+River.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319166361100592290" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 224px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 172px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF5n46bpKI/AAAAAAAACt0/h2E0FkDzrL0/s400/Decorah+River.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF5oRL1QvI/AAAAAAAACuE/iY3sODBC-vw/s1600-h/Erin"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319166367616025330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 314px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 238px" alt="Erin's one true pride and joy." src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF5oRL1QvI/AAAAAAAACuE/iY3sODBC-vw/s400/Erin%27s+Pride+%26+Joy.JPG" border="0" /></a>Part of the tour was a rare treat, getting to see some of the more interesting aspects of the <a href="http://www.luther.edu/">Luther</a> campus. Most notable, of course, was Erin's special <a href="http://faculty.luther.edu/~flater01/research.htm">atomic force microscope</a>, able to analyze friction on the nanoscale. The stuffed animals of the biology labs were fun, as was the marine aquarium, full of invertebrates, but of particular interest was the planetarium, where Erin gave me a private showing. We listened to classical music with the lights dimmed and the stars brilliant, as Erin pointed out the various constellations she highlights in class, and how the planets move in </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF6_zRRyfI/AAAAAAAACus/Me36uoeK1W8/s1600-h/Hesper+Friends+-+Outside.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319167871414290930" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 218px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF6_zRRyfI/AAAAAAAACus/Me36uoeK1W8/s400/Hesper+Friends+-+Outside.JPG" border="0" /></a><span class="fullpost">their retrograde motion, all the while with no guile on her part, thereby proving that she is simply inherently romantic without having to strive to be so.<br /><br />It has been long, far too long, since I engaged in Open Worship. There are no Quaker churches in Madison, and the closest is an hour and a half drive away. So it was with great delight that I discovered that Hesper Friends is only a few miles away from Decorah. Thus off we went, to experience for the first time (for Erin) a Quaker service, and <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF6_a9603I/AAAAAAAACuU/pqb5iX-X69c/s1600-h/Hesper+Friends+-+Interior+II.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319167864890643314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 261px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 188px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF6_a9603I/AAAAAAAACuU/pqb5iX-X69c/s400/Hesper+Friends+-+Interior+II.JPG" border="0" /></a>rejuvenate myself in my need for silence and the Spirit and Light speaking out of that silence.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF5oQlz9hI/AAAAAAAACuM/wjEphiKGtWo/s1600-h/Hesper+Friends+-+Interior+I.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319166367456556562" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 193px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF5oQlz9hI/AAAAAAAACuM/wjEphiKGtWo/s400/Hesper+Friends+-+Interior+I.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></span><br /><span class="fullpost"></span><br /><span class="fullpost"></span><br /><span class="fullpost"></span><br /><span class="fullpost"></span><br /><span class="fullpost"></span><br /><span class="fullpost"></span><br /><span class="fullpost">And it was an even greater joy to discover this is a very traditional building, with the Meeting going <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF6_hB0yXI/AAAAAAAACuc/bJC6Rxdl4AA/s1600-h/Hesper+Friends+-+Interior+III.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319167866517637490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 244px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 185px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF6_hB0yXI/AAAAAAAACuc/bJC6Rxdl4AA/s400/Hesper+Friends+-+Interior+III.JPG" border="0" /></a>back some 150 years, and the building nearly as long. The Meeting is small, but very warm, and the sermon was actually on John 3.16! For all it's quoted, I don't know that I've actually ever heard a sermon on John 3.16 before, and this was a particularly good one. He traced how we have repeatedly, in the past century, thought humans were getting better, and yet the 20th century has been one of repeated <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF6_5ULerI/AAAAAAAACuk/CCSq77Kxp4M/s1600-h/Hesper+Friends+-+Interior+IV.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319167873037073074" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 208px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF6_5ULerI/AAAAAAAACuk/CCSq77Kxp4M/s400/Hesper+Friends+-+Interior+IV.JPG" border="0" /></a>horrors, not limited to but in </span><br /><span class="fullpost"></span><br /><span class="fullpost">the superlative with the Holocaust. And then, we return to John 3.16, and must struggle with, though we might not agree, God still loves those who have committed the worst of the atrocities, as he loves the whole world, while we are yet still sinners.<br /><br />The weekend was rounded up with more romantic moments, as we shared food around a picnic blanket at the waterfalls, and read the first chapter of Anne Rice's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Christ-Lord-Out-Egypt-Novel/dp/0345492730/ref=pd_bbs_sr_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1238531777&sr=8-2">Christ the Lord</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF7AJJJTZI/AAAAAAAACu0/9-l9pUMeCj4/s1600-h/Scary+Giant+Mouse.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319167877285760402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 408px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF7AJJJTZI/AAAAAAAACu0/9-l9pUMeCj4/s400/Scary+Giant+Mouse.JPG" border="0" /></a>The drive home was long and dark. Particularly frightening were the giant man-eating mice that roam Northern Iowa, staring at me like I was more appetizing than their big hunks of cheese.<br /><br />It was a weekend book-ended by strange creatures in the numinous moments of twilight. The whole weekend, I had been contemplating the Hasidic Jews I had seen Friday night, and thinking, "Since there are also many Amish in this state, wouldn't it be awesome to see a Hasidic and an Amish sitting down for coffee together in a small shop, discussing the issues of the day?<br /><br />I wasn't to be fulfilled with that vision yet, but I did see the next best thing- a surreptitious photograph taken as I passed a horse and buggy in my car. For those in the Midwest this may seem like an everyday occurrence, but for a West Coast boy like myself, this was my first time seeing both Hasidics and Amish, outside the movies. An eventful weekend indeed.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF8OAtb2SI/AAAAAAAACu8/oT7yfJ7t-mY/s1600-h/Surruptitious+Amish+Picture+Taking.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319169215051847970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 386px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 241px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/SdF8OAtb2SI/AAAAAAAACu8/oT7yfJ7t-mY/s400/Surruptitious+Amish+Picture+Taking.JPG" border="0" /></a></span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-11034525658174163872009-03-20T03:17:00.005+08:002009-03-31T09:55:31.090+08:00Life on Mars No MoreLast night, I was enjoying one of my <a href="http://abc.go.com/primetime/lifeonmars/index?pn=index">favorite shows</a> on TV, with an exceptional episode. That says something, since, in my opinion, it is the only good new show of the season. (I'll give you <a href="http://www.nbc.com/Kings/">Kings</a>, but we've only seen one episode of that.) It is one of the finest dramas I've ever seen, with amazing writing, directing, and acting. I love all of the 70s references, for it brings back so many memories- some of them good. (I don't remember the 60s.) <br /><br />And then, right after the episode, when they gave the preview for next week, they also stated that you should be sure to watch this episode, for there was only one more episode before the series finale.<span class="fullpost"><br /><br />I did a double-take on that one. Actually, I rewound the DVR a couple times. I thought for sure they meant "season finale", and it was ending early. But no- series finale. This is it. One of the finest shows on TV, but suffering declining ratings, especially since ABC made a rather foolish move of putting it up against Law & Order, with it's strong fan base, and another cop show, splitting some of the demographic.<br /><br />Yes, it is going one more episode more than it's British forerunner. But British shows never go for that long. And we had just begun to really set up the characters. They had just begun to start to evolve, now that they've been laid down. There's some major plot twists and developments that could be resolved in two episodes, but not with justice to good writing. It's a series that was wonderfully set up for continual exploration of mystery. <br /><br />The 20-somethings-who-buy-more-products-demographic-bomb hits again. Of course, you have to be at least in your 30s to appreciate this show; otherwise it's merely an exploration of ancient history. And evidently, no matter how well a show is written, ABC's policy is to cancel if it provides only some revenue, rather than the high revenues of 20s-focused shows. Yes, they could do a mix, recognizing that anyone older than 29 also buys products, and having some well-written shows are good for publicity too. But it would appear that that's asking too much.</span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19429730.post-55008052074412960752009-03-18T21:53:00.009+08:002009-04-01T22:09:19.729+08:00Dude! I got my car!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sc5h_qiCmvI/AAAAAAAACtk/G__w8fTzFyg/s1600-h/Eh+Mec,+Where"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318295956347853554" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; width: 268px; cursor: pointer; height: 400px;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oBPMl3xDxQg/Sc5h_qiCmvI/AAAAAAAACtk/G__w8fTzFyg/s400/Eh+Mec,+Where%27s+my+car.jpg" border="0" /></a><span class="fullpost">Well, it was a lot of work, but finally everything is completed. After having to <a href="http://biosaari.blogspot.com/2009/02/trust-in-times-of-twisted-metal.html">work through everything</a> with insurance and the "responsible" party, the car is finally fixed. </span><span class="fullpost">Not without having to really pull though. I insisted on going only through insurance, but Chuck Rafferty Insurance kept on sending me to the party that caused the accident. </span><span class="fullpost">I insisted that they go through insurance, but they insisted that they didn't have to. My insurance company, Geico, told me that I have the right to make a claim, and Chuck Rafferty and the responsible party denied it. Geico clarified I could file it, and usually insurance companies accept that if the other party is 100% at fault (such as, when they back into your car at high speed from another street, and your car is stopped at a stop sign), but the insurance company could throw up roadblocks and make it difficult to get money, if their client wasn't interested in honoring the law and her obligations.<br /><br />So I figured it would be easier just to have her pay it, rather than forcing this or going to court. </span>I called her up, told her where to send the money, and when to get it there- by Monday, so that the autoshop would have the money before they worked on my car. Monday I dropped my car off, and discovered they had not received their payment yet. Monday night I called the responsible party, and she told me, "Oh, I thought you wanted it to go to the <em>other</em> shop, and were considering which one to go to!" Except no such thing had been said. I went to a second autoshop, at her request, as a favor to them, so they could get a second estimate. Then she on her own initiative decided to try to contact her shop, and set up an appointment with them for my car, though I had told everyone repeatedly I would be using my shop. Then she decided that I had suggested I wasn't sure which shop I wanted. Now that the payment was late, she would have to send it overnight.<br /><br />Which she did. Only to leave a message on my phone to order me that she had decided, since she had to send it overnight and I had not been clear on which shop I wanted, she would be deducting the $25 from the two checks- and had already done so. <span class="fullpost">Probably about what you'd expect from a couple who has four accidents between them and is trying to hide a 5th accident from their insurance and auto records by not paying through insurance.<br /><br />Happily, <a href="http://www.waunakeeautobody.com/">Waunakee Auto Body</a> is really excellent. They not only repaired my car to a T, but told me not to worry about the additional $25. Any other issues in obtaining payment, if it was needed, would be dealt with directly between them and the responsible party, who may thereby learn a bit more of what it means to be the responsible party.</span>Jed Carosaarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10775889983099808362noreply@blogger.com0