The rest are all of us being goofy in our seats and finally me showing off my new T-shirt.
Monday, December 12, 2005
U2 Photos...
The first two are the correct distance from our seats. The third one is cropped for a closer view. It looks incredible on my desktop. I can see Bono's face!
The rest are all of us being goofy in our seats and finally me showing off my new T-shirt.
The rest are all of us being goofy in our seats and finally me showing off my new T-shirt.
Did she really go to see U2 AGAIN?
She did!!!!!
Jon and I took Jacob and Johannah to Cleveland this past Saturday night to see U2 at the end of the third leg of their world-crushing tour. It's the event we've looked forward to all year, except that I didn't have to look forward to it in March like they did since I had May in Chicago to look forward to, U2 slut that I am. :)
In any event, it snowed as in storm on Thursday which made me a tad nervous about the drive Sat. But the gods love Bono and apparently they like me too and we had an uneventful drive up to Cleveland. What a nice city! I don't say that lightly and I really mean it.
We stayed at "a scary" Embassy Suites (how Jon described it). Weirdly we parked in a parking garage that made you take an elevator down to the street level, exit through a maze, out the front of a building and back into the building through a door next door. Then you take the elevator to floor five to find the reception. Yes, it was that weird.
There was supposed to be a jcauzzi (on the blink) and a manager's reception of snacks and free drinks. No one, I mean NO ONE, knew what the snacks were yet they work there every day.
"Snacks, ma'am. I mean the chef could put out anything."
"Yes, I know. But like, what has he put out in the past? I mean, you must have seen some of those platters at some point."
"Oh you know, snacks and stuff. Just like snack food. You know, snacks."
I gave up.
And apparently they were dead right. Drinks were flowing to the point of middle-aged embarassment (my kids were witness to what parents of teens do when their teens aren't around - they get smashed, bombed, totally drunk and idiotic). Then snacks emerged—Chex Mix. That's right. No wonder no one could describe it. Pathetic.
No matter. We were going to hear U2... after that embarassing elevator ride with six drunk forty-somethings where a guy entered the elevator and said to his cohorts: "Hey, this is a place called Vertigo!" and then put his nose in between where the doors closed. Got peels of laughter from the blondes in tight t-shirts and then one of the big guys yelled "Hola!" and they all fell apart laughing again. Adults are idiots.
We took a taxi to the Gund auditorium. "Institute" opened for U2. They sucked. Sorry. Someone has to say it. My teens did, so I feel justified.
I bought a t-shirt. Woo-hoo!
I won't bore you with the "Excuse me, but I think you're in my seats" story where I had to yell over the bad band to get the woman's attention and yet she accused me of being rude after she wouldn't even check her tickets.... or the drunk guy that crossed in front of us twenty times to pee and buy beer throughout the concert (okay, not 20, but you get the hyperbolic idea).
We did sit in front of the most clean cut cute seniors in high school boys ever. Johannah managed to charm them up one side and down the other. :) They loved U2 - I tried to get their IMs to arrange marriages.
But onto the concert....
Cleveland was ready. They were much more openly affectionate to U2 than Chicago had been. Bono was in total generosity form - open, happy (smiled a lot) and dancing. The crowd cheered constantly and with real spontaneity. Love that.
We had the "greatest hits" set and I'll try to find it online and post tomorrow. They opened with "City of Blinding Lights" and Jacob went wild. We were just elated.
Instead of taking it song by song, I thought I'd highlight my favorite of the night. Bono sang "Miss Sarajevo" (a favorite of mine anyway) which is recorded with Pavrotti singing this gorgeous opera in Italian in the middle of the song. On Saturday night, they played it during the "Declaration of Human Rights" section of the concert (which scrolls on the jumbotron) and Bono chose to sing Pavrotti's part. He stunned me. He sang it to perfection. I'm talking he hit every high note and held it for the full length with vibratto. It was spectacular. I had no idea he had it in him. I kept thinking of Bono's belief that his father left him his father's tenor voice when he died. Saturday night, I believed. The crowd cheered every note that Bono went higher. Gorgeous—brought tears to my eyes.
I heard "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" for the first time in concert which Bono ended with a clip of "In a Little While." "Original of the Species" was also superb with this clever use of the stage lights. They chased each other around the elipse... "Baby slow down, the end is not as fun as the start..."
I so enjoyed being up high after my near disaster of being crushed in the general assembly floor seats last time. I like being high. It was good to find that out.
I'll post the set list and more thoughts later. Jon took a bazillion digital photos that I want to post too, so stay tuned.
What a night! Magic, transported me.
(Oh and the next day we went to the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame Museum. Sigh.)
Jon and I took Jacob and Johannah to Cleveland this past Saturday night to see U2 at the end of the third leg of their world-crushing tour. It's the event we've looked forward to all year, except that I didn't have to look forward to it in March like they did since I had May in Chicago to look forward to, U2 slut that I am. :)
In any event, it snowed as in storm on Thursday which made me a tad nervous about the drive Sat. But the gods love Bono and apparently they like me too and we had an uneventful drive up to Cleveland. What a nice city! I don't say that lightly and I really mean it.
We stayed at "a scary" Embassy Suites (how Jon described it). Weirdly we parked in a parking garage that made you take an elevator down to the street level, exit through a maze, out the front of a building and back into the building through a door next door. Then you take the elevator to floor five to find the reception. Yes, it was that weird.
There was supposed to be a jcauzzi (on the blink) and a manager's reception of snacks and free drinks. No one, I mean NO ONE, knew what the snacks were yet they work there every day.
"Snacks, ma'am. I mean the chef could put out anything."
"Yes, I know. But like, what has he put out in the past? I mean, you must have seen some of those platters at some point."
"Oh you know, snacks and stuff. Just like snack food. You know, snacks."
I gave up.
And apparently they were dead right. Drinks were flowing to the point of middle-aged embarassment (my kids were witness to what parents of teens do when their teens aren't around - they get smashed, bombed, totally drunk and idiotic). Then snacks emerged—Chex Mix. That's right. No wonder no one could describe it. Pathetic.
No matter. We were going to hear U2... after that embarassing elevator ride with six drunk forty-somethings where a guy entered the elevator and said to his cohorts: "Hey, this is a place called Vertigo!" and then put his nose in between where the doors closed. Got peels of laughter from the blondes in tight t-shirts and then one of the big guys yelled "Hola!" and they all fell apart laughing again. Adults are idiots.
We took a taxi to the Gund auditorium. "Institute" opened for U2. They sucked. Sorry. Someone has to say it. My teens did, so I feel justified.
I bought a t-shirt. Woo-hoo!
I won't bore you with the "Excuse me, but I think you're in my seats" story where I had to yell over the bad band to get the woman's attention and yet she accused me of being rude after she wouldn't even check her tickets.... or the drunk guy that crossed in front of us twenty times to pee and buy beer throughout the concert (okay, not 20, but you get the hyperbolic idea).
We did sit in front of the most clean cut cute seniors in high school boys ever. Johannah managed to charm them up one side and down the other. :) They loved U2 - I tried to get their IMs to arrange marriages.
But onto the concert....
Cleveland was ready. They were much more openly affectionate to U2 than Chicago had been. Bono was in total generosity form - open, happy (smiled a lot) and dancing. The crowd cheered constantly and with real spontaneity. Love that.
We had the "greatest hits" set and I'll try to find it online and post tomorrow. They opened with "City of Blinding Lights" and Jacob went wild. We were just elated.
Instead of taking it song by song, I thought I'd highlight my favorite of the night. Bono sang "Miss Sarajevo" (a favorite of mine anyway) which is recorded with Pavrotti singing this gorgeous opera in Italian in the middle of the song. On Saturday night, they played it during the "Declaration of Human Rights" section of the concert (which scrolls on the jumbotron) and Bono chose to sing Pavrotti's part. He stunned me. He sang it to perfection. I'm talking he hit every high note and held it for the full length with vibratto. It was spectacular. I had no idea he had it in him. I kept thinking of Bono's belief that his father left him his father's tenor voice when he died. Saturday night, I believed. The crowd cheered every note that Bono went higher. Gorgeous—brought tears to my eyes.
I heard "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" for the first time in concert which Bono ended with a clip of "In a Little While." "Original of the Species" was also superb with this clever use of the stage lights. They chased each other around the elipse... "Baby slow down, the end is not as fun as the start..."
I so enjoyed being up high after my near disaster of being crushed in the general assembly floor seats last time. I like being high. It was good to find that out.
I'll post the set list and more thoughts later. Jon took a bazillion digital photos that I want to post too, so stay tuned.
What a night! Magic, transported me.
(Oh and the next day we went to the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame Museum. Sigh.)
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Lose one, win one
You probably wouldn't guess that I watch football (I have confessed to a golf obsession with Tiger Woods...). But I do.
And yesterday, I held my breath as the Bruins met the Trojans. Finally, here in the east, we were deemed worthy of a game that featured only teams from the west.
But by the half, I wanted to avert my eyes.
By the end, let's just say I was a fan of the red and gold. What a team!
But today redeemed yesterday's bleak outcome. The Cincinnati Bengals (led by Carson Palmer - I know, a Trojan) have continued to astound the NFL with their come back season. 9 and 3. Not bad, boys. Not bad.
And yesterday, I held my breath as the Bruins met the Trojans. Finally, here in the east, we were deemed worthy of a game that featured only teams from the west.
But by the half, I wanted to avert my eyes.
By the end, let's just say I was a fan of the red and gold. What a team!
But today redeemed yesterday's bleak outcome. The Cincinnati Bengals (led by Carson Palmer - I know, a Trojan) have continued to astound the NFL with their come back season. 9 and 3. Not bad, boys. Not bad.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Imagination and Faith
Got to thinking about how theology works as I write my paper on Hinduism and Islam.
It occurred to me that much of theology (and science and economics and, and, and) relies on what I'd call "imagination." By this I don't mean "imaginary" as in "not real." Rather, I mean the ability to fire up images in one's mind that give life and breath to the ideas or insights or assertions made by any of these areas.
In the case of theology, the raw idea of heaven and hell for instance is not that powerful in the lives of those who don't vividly imagine those places as real. I am always amazed, for instance, that there are evangelical Christians who can sleep at night knowing that so many people are destined for an eternity of torment. It is because this is not the part of their theology that they have spent much time cultivating in their imaginations. They may be more imaginative with their ability to experience the love of God or "God's presence in prayer" or the wonder of Christian community.
As I thought about how we each make decisions about how we relate to our beliefs, it also occurred to me that even science depends on a vital imagination. For instance, my husband (who is a naturalist) has cultivated the imagination of how reality works - he sees the biological process in his head and he becomes amazed by the power of the genes, the way our brains control so much of what we experience, the power of our need to reproduce to motivate so many behaviors and so on.
Carl Sagan used to do something similar when he would awaken our imaginations to how he understood the cosmos.
It occurred to me that even capitalism depends on awakening the imagination - imagining what free markets can do, and how money can grow, and what benefits are derived.
It seems to me, then, that so much of theological interpretation depends on opening the imagination of the listener. Those who do it successfully gain followers who give support to those underlying ideas. And it also occurred to me that theology must be an exercise in re-imagining. That is, we receive the theology and the images it conjures from those before us, but we subject them to our modern or post-modern condition and re-imagine what they are to awaken insight or attachment or interest.
My question, then, is:
Why does it matter which "imagined" image gets the most votes? Iow, (without including science for a minute), does it matter whether one person is moved by the picture painted by the liberals versus the one painted by the patristic fathers or the one offered by the reformers? I agree that it matters if any one of these conjures up images that lead to oppression, violence or cruelty. But leaving those aside, assuming outcomes are equal as far as how we treat our neighbor, does it matter which theology we adopt, if one catalyzes the imagination in a way that another does not... and not everyone agrees?
It occurred to me that much of theology (and science and economics and, and, and) relies on what I'd call "imagination." By this I don't mean "imaginary" as in "not real." Rather, I mean the ability to fire up images in one's mind that give life and breath to the ideas or insights or assertions made by any of these areas.
In the case of theology, the raw idea of heaven and hell for instance is not that powerful in the lives of those who don't vividly imagine those places as real. I am always amazed, for instance, that there are evangelical Christians who can sleep at night knowing that so many people are destined for an eternity of torment. It is because this is not the part of their theology that they have spent much time cultivating in their imaginations. They may be more imaginative with their ability to experience the love of God or "God's presence in prayer" or the wonder of Christian community.
As I thought about how we each make decisions about how we relate to our beliefs, it also occurred to me that even science depends on a vital imagination. For instance, my husband (who is a naturalist) has cultivated the imagination of how reality works - he sees the biological process in his head and he becomes amazed by the power of the genes, the way our brains control so much of what we experience, the power of our need to reproduce to motivate so many behaviors and so on.
Carl Sagan used to do something similar when he would awaken our imaginations to how he understood the cosmos.
It occurred to me that even capitalism depends on awakening the imagination - imagining what free markets can do, and how money can grow, and what benefits are derived.
It seems to me, then, that so much of theological interpretation depends on opening the imagination of the listener. Those who do it successfully gain followers who give support to those underlying ideas. And it also occurred to me that theology must be an exercise in re-imagining. That is, we receive the theology and the images it conjures from those before us, but we subject them to our modern or post-modern condition and re-imagine what they are to awaken insight or attachment or interest.
My question, then, is:
Why does it matter which "imagined" image gets the most votes? Iow, (without including science for a minute), does it matter whether one person is moved by the picture painted by the liberals versus the one painted by the patristic fathers or the one offered by the reformers? I agree that it matters if any one of these conjures up images that lead to oppression, violence or cruelty. But leaving those aside, assuming outcomes are equal as far as how we treat our neighbor, does it matter which theology we adopt, if one catalyzes the imagination in a way that another does not... and not everyone agrees?
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
The Californians Arrive
My family and Jon's come for Thanksgiving starting late tonight and bleeding into tomorrow. The house has had a thorough Flylady once over and is sparkling. We painted both the family room and my bedroom and dejunked literally every room in the house. This is no easy task as my daughters' room hadn't seen the floor in so long we forgot the color of the carpet.
When it was all finished, my 11 year old son said, "I think a clean house is really nice."
Made me laugh.
My other kids chimed in that though it looks nice clean, it doesn't feel as homey.
Anyway, I will be scarce over the next several days of celebrating.
In addition to meals and desserts, I need to study. I have a paper due that compares the role of women in Hinduism and Islam. So far, Hinduism wins the prize for most abusive religion to women in history. Makes you want to tie men up in brightly colored saris and hurl them onto funeral pyres!
A steady gaze at women in history is enough to make any woman turn lesbian, I tell you. I am grateful to be born this side of suffrage and the third wave of feminsim.
When it was all finished, my 11 year old son said, "I think a clean house is really nice."
Made me laugh.
My other kids chimed in that though it looks nice clean, it doesn't feel as homey.
Anyway, I will be scarce over the next several days of celebrating.
In addition to meals and desserts, I need to study. I have a paper due that compares the role of women in Hinduism and Islam. So far, Hinduism wins the prize for most abusive religion to women in history. Makes you want to tie men up in brightly colored saris and hurl them onto funeral pyres!
A steady gaze at women in history is enough to make any woman turn lesbian, I tell you. I am grateful to be born this side of suffrage and the third wave of feminsim.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Left, Right and Center
I've been scarce here lately. Just too much going on in my life. We're cleaning carpets, painting walls, dusting the "tall people places" (the tops of things I never see from down here), stocking good chocolate and buying coordinated "things" from Target (like tablecloths and other needless, first world, energy consuming decor) for our big Thanksgiving get-together which happens next week.
My mother, her husband, my brother, Jon's sister and my mom's husband's brother and sister-in-law (yes, we are an American family) are all coming to our house for the big Turkey meal. Jon will cook the bird in his Weber cooker while it snows, I imagine. :)
Grad school continues to mess with my mind...
The right wing radio types have been warning me about higher education for fifteen years. They warned that Marx was a hero and that the left would emerge as elitist, against business and out to control the lives of ordinary well-meaning SUV drivers.
They were completely right, btw.
In fact, my professors proudly identify with labels like "liberal" and "progressive" (what's up with that?) and wince when anyone mentions Rush Limbaugh or the so-called "war on terror." I think they experience physical pain.
But if you soak long enough in a perspective and give it time, it's amazing how undermining that long look can be to what you thought you knew.
Did you know, for instance, that if every Chinese drank just one more beer next year, all of Scandanavia's grain production would have to go to supplying that demand?
Okay, so what? We live in America. The Scandanvians can slave for the Chinese.
Here's another one...
Did you know that per capita, Americans consume 180 eggs per year? Did you know that each Chinese consumes ten? (10!?) The goal of their government is that each Chinese would consume 100 eggs per year. Yet if they were to consume only 50 per year, there wouldn't be enough hens in the world to lay eggs 24/7 year round to supply that need. We would literally be unable to produce enough eggs.
What the cluck?
They finally got through to me last night (in a way that the limits to growth folks never have succeeded before)—making tangible what the problems are in concrete, visual terms.
China and India want to consume energy at the rate that we do. Period.
The way we've set up the game, at this point, is that we want to consume at the rate we currently do without having to give any of it up and we believe we can continue to do so while other countries come up to our level without hitting shortages.
I am now considering the possibility that we are wrong. (So what else is new under the sun in my life?)
Actually, I think I'll skip eggs this morning. Might just drink some tea.
Look at me! "She's all grown up and savin' China." (Quick, trivia question: What Disney movie is that from?)
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Springsteen on Fresh Air
If you get Fresh Air in your market, today's interview with the Boss is wonderful. The audio will be posted on the website after 3 p.m. eastern.
Check it out.
Check it out.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Perks of Being a Graduate Student
After years of being a stay-at-home mom
So what are you waiting for?
Oh and I have no idea what in the world I'll do with a theology degree... except try to finagle a way to keep taking classes.
- New books, new clothes, and the necessary application of make-up on class night.
- A sexy vocabulary - "post-foundationalist deconstruction" and "ideological hegemonic criteria" Hot, hot, hot! When those professors start going on like that, I swear it's all I can do to sit there and take notes... Makes me hurry home to my husband's big vocab, if you know what I mean. ;-)
- More writing opportunities than you can shake a stick at... or at which one may shake one's stick.
- A library with really old books in German by Goethe. It doesn't matter that I will never read them. It matters that they transfer immortality to me each time I stroke the spines.
- Adults who dare to question everything they know, leave the ministry and wind up in food service (Dominoes pizza and Starbucks come to mind). Who says an MA in theology doesn't prepare one for the workforce?
- Subversive ancient texts. Word up! There's a conspiracy out there to disarm these texts. We theology students know better and are sneaking into your water cooler conversations and online bulletin board chats. Postmodern malatov cocktail anyone?
- Standing in front of school buildings and forgetting my age for just a minute.
- Feeling smart.
- Having new thoughts about old topics.
- Reading.
- Getting sane without spending a penny on therapy.
So what are you waiting for?
Oh and I have no idea what in the world I'll do with a theology degree... except try to finagle a way to keep taking classes.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Hubby leaves town and car goes on the blink
I got a new van a few weeks ago. It's a new "used" van but the newest vehicle we've ever bought. It has only 60,000 miles on it! And I bought it like the grown-up I am - with my own hard earned money. First time ever.
I love it.
And now I hate it.
Why did it have to give up while Jon is in Seattle?
Praying to the mechanical gods: Please would you heal my vehicle, ASAP-hicle.
Amen.
(We all believe in God when our cars break down...)
I love it.
And now I hate it.
Why did it have to give up while Jon is in Seattle?
Praying to the mechanical gods: Please would you heal my vehicle, ASAP-hicle.
Amen.
(We all believe in God when our cars break down...)
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