THE RECONSTRUCTION OF MAI LI HASTINGS 20

I read the play version of Daniel Keyes’ FLOWERS FOR ALGERNON when I was in eighth grade. It has stayed with me for decades, a haunting symbol for both the overwhelming possibilities of the human intellect and the overwhelming impossibilities faced by a profoundly challenged human mind. I’ve started and stopped this novel a half a dozen times in eleven years. I want to bring the original idea into the present millennium. To read RECONSTRUCTION from beginning to here, click on the label to the right and scroll to the bottom.

Job Doe, Edison Saroyan, Trevon Frazier-Jackson, Jude Hildebrandt and Luc Castillo-Vargas – the rest of the Math Team – rushed across the cafeteria and mobbed CJ Hastings, pounding his back, punching him in the shoulder and shaking his hand. Even Sentury Millner nodded in his general direction. That was almost better than the back slaps and shoulder punches and “Congratulations, finally!”

Mr. Bates strode across the open area following his team. His eyes practically glowed as he said, “I didn’t believe the advertising on the package and the ‘testimonials’ on the website, but it worked! It’s amazing!” He leaned back, held his hands up into the air and cried, “It’s a MUR-UH-KUL!”

Several of the other coaches stopped to stare at him.

The kids stepped back from him, giving him a very, very wide berth as well as wide eyes.

Even the PI-that-everyone-thought-was-a-secret-agent moved closer to CJ. Mr. Bates shoed everyone away, hurrying them to the auditorium for the fun part of the meet. He said, “Hang on, CJ.”

CJ blinked and said, “Am I in trouble?”

Mr. Bates laughed, “Hardly. You came in fifth out of a hundred and six. Last year you were ninety-eight out of a hundred and two. I’d say that was a miraculous improvement, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh, sure, Mr. Bates. Shouldn’t I go and sit with the rest of the team?”

He laughed, “I’m sure they’re saving a seat for you. Hurry on!”

CJ followed the stragglers and got into the auditorium as the first round began. Mr. Bates had been right, there was a spot saved for him in the middle of the team. Job was on one side; he grimaced, Jude was on the other. He slid in past everyone’s knees and soft catcalls of “Sit down!” and “I can’t see!” and dropped into the chair. He looked around the auditorium. The lights had been dimmed a little, but it was easy to find the PI. He was still watching CJ, sunglasses on his face.

Job saw him looking and whispered, “Who’s that?”

CJ considered. Job sort of knew what was going on, but he didn’t know anything about Mai Li taking the nanomachine treatment. Him, Mom and Dr. Douchebag had kept pretty quiet about it. Mom didn’t want any publicity. Dr. D. didn’t want any publicity until Mai Li was a success. CJ clenched one fist – he was starting to really, really not like that man. He leaned back to Job who was watching him, frowning, and said, “Mai Li’s missing and that guy’s a private investigator Mom hired to find her.”

“What’s he doing here?” CJ shrugged, but Job stared at him for a few seconds then lowered his voice and whispered, “They think you killed Mai Li?”

CJ looked away then back into the glowing whites and eyes of his best friend and nodded. “Yeah. The guy’s watching me.”

Job blinked twice then whispered, “Did you?”

CJ shoved Job. Sentury, on the other side of Job, leaned forward, glared and whispered, “Grow up!”

“You grow up!” CJ said out loud. From up the aisle, a teacher or coach stood up and walked toward them. The PI stepped away from the wall, watching intently. Job leaned away from CJ who shouted, “I didn’t kill Mai Li!”

The teacher and the PI reached him at the same time. The teacher motioned CJ to follow her and when he was in the aisle, she grabbed one arm and the PI grabbed the other, marching CJ out of the full auditorium – while everyone watched…

image: http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_lF_BtrYJlRc/TPzKt_xr6fI/AAAAAAAAAS4/9LH4iPRbVfc/s1600/kid_handcuffs.jpg

A Slice of PIE: ANOTHER Take On the Popularity of Young Adult/Teen Dystopian Novels

As a former employee at my local Barnes & Noble, I have watched the swelling number of dark, grim and sometimes horrific YA/teen novels spill off the shelves. No, I’m not talking about the vampire books and their gradually more gruesome clones that seem to be trying to outdo one another with bodily fluid spatter. I’m talking about science fiction and speculative fiction stories that have as their focus some level of planetary apocalypse. Last summer I thought I’d write a PIE on why I think YA/T dystopian novels are popular. Instead, I wrote a novel in which Humanity has a FUTURE. After reading the following articles, I am no longer surprised that it hasn’t sold.

Recently, an internet friend of mine blogged “YA Fiction: The Upside of the Dark Side” (http://mikeduran.com/?p=11099). I regularly read Mike Duran and apparently he has found that this trend is a “Big Deal” and is generating lots of talk. His column was prompted by “The Dark Side of Young Adult Fiction” (http://www.nytimes.com/roomfordebate/2010/12/26/the-dark-side-of-young-adult-fiction).

What I find strange, is that I was going to write the PIE after reading this Lois Tilton article in Locus, “2010 Short Fiction Reviews in Review” (15Dec2010 -- http://www.locusmag.com/Reviews/2010/12/lois-tiltons-2010-short-fiction-reviews-in-review/). In it, she says, “Interzone remains just about my favorite source of SF. I often wish some of the older, more tired printzines could get an infusion of its energy with its strangely imagined, often dark futures….[in] Strange Horizons…my picks are the dystopian…”

I suppose I find this strange because after reading Aldous Huxley’s BRAVE NEW WORLD and George Orwell’s 1984 as a kid, I turned to science fiction that heralded a hope-filled future. I feasted on the juveniles by Heinlein, Norton, Nourse and Bova and fell in love with STAR TREK. There was a profound hope for the future, and while there were warnings, the sense was that the future was something to which we could look forward.

Then all these people grew up and they didn’t get their flying cars and Lunar Colonies and Voyages to Arcturus…

All of the people talking about dystopias and dystopian literature for young adults and teens (at the risk of offending the already injured party, I’m gonna call them “kids” from here on (I know, kids are young goats; in this case, think of those goats as the "scape-" variety...)) are ADULTS. Possibly disgruntled, hurt and deeply disappointed adults.

As they pontificate (and political speechify) about how much these kids need to be realistic about the future, they seem to be missing a few important points: it ain’t the kids who are writing books set in dystopian futures in which everyone is forced to look beautiful, the Moon has been struck by an asteroid and is too close, or overpopulation and dictatorship has forced a Roman Circus on America. It is adults that are writing dystopian novels for this age group. It ain’t the KIDS who buy manuscripts, publish them, create advertising campaigns for, review, order, ship and display these grim, hopeless novels on bookstore floors.

WHO is it who’s fascinated with dystopia and laying their pain and disappointment with technology, politics and science? Sorry folks, it ain’t the kids.

Who can offer HOPE? It ain’t the kids.

Kids have enough problems without adding global apocalypse to the mix. I know – I’ve been a classroom teacher and counselor since 1981. I may not have heard it all, but I’ve heard a lot of it. Enough to wonder why adults are surprised that suicide and homicide are the second and third most common cause of death in 15-24 year olds. (http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/001915.htm)) Though I am appalled by adults who aren’t surprised that so many kids commit suicide, I am convinced that youth are supposed to be hopeful and full of bright dreams.

My OPINION is that WE have the problem. It seems to me that many adults have chosen to abdicate our responsibility AS adults – one of those responsibilities being to create and offer HOPE – in favor of pissing and moaning over the messes we’ve made in the past (there are probably only a couple of teenagers on the BP Board of Directors, the Federal Trade Commision, the Government of India or in charge of waste treatment in China). Those same adults then assume that kids will make the same mistakes their elders made. Even Mike Duran appears to feel fine about communicating a subtext of “Why bother? Come on and join your elders and wisers in pissing and moaning about the future.”

Am I angry? Yer dern tootin’ I am! ‘cause as a high school and middle school teacher, I’ve had a ringside seat to the deepening sense of gloom and doom WE have loaded onto our kids. I have/had two of them in my own home. I can say unequivocally that if it weren’t for a certain faith perspective they would constantly feel the crushing weight of that presumably “adult” dystopian view rather than only intermittently feeling it.

Kids also know very well that the adults who are supposed to be responsible for them are walking around with doom and gloom and sighing.

There is very little “out there” that gives them cause to hope. Us included. Maybe it’s time WE picked up our responsibility again and GIVE them some.

BTW – why do we seem to believe that Heinlein, Norton and all the others who wrote hopeful juvenile fiction felt any better about their future than we do? After the first explosion of the atomic bomb in 1945, did the future look real bright and rosy? Hiding under desks to escape a nuclear explosion or (and I REMEMBER these) “Fallout Drills” where we headed to the locker rooms under the school to escape radioactive fallout following a nuclear attack seemed decidedly scary and unhopeful. But the ADULTS I read gave cause for hope. Not the kind of pie-in-the-sky, namby pamby, wishy washy hope that Mike Duran, a couple of the editorialists and more than a few commenters feel we’ll be pedaling to our kids if we aren’t brutally honest about the grimness of the future! Of COURSE kids know when we’re pandering! They’re young, not stupid! But how about we DON’T pander and just grant that there is hope for the future – and that maybe that hope lies with THEM!

Mike Duran concludes: “The upside of dystopian YA novels is that they accurately reflect our grim future. The downside is that conventional wisdom has no way to stop that future from happening.”

Why do we think that we’ve cornered the wholesale market on “grim future”?

While I agree with his conclusion wholeheartedly, I disagree as well. The evangelical church as a whole is convinced that these are THE End Times. That this is IT. That WE are the last generation. Jesus will OBVIOUSLY come back Some Time Real Soon!

May I point out that the Church has been feeling that way for the past 2010 years? Every time has its pundits who are positive that theirs is the “last” generation. Every decade is certain that Things Can’t Get Any Worse and what’s the matter with kids today?. And while conventional wisdom cannot stop the future from happening, it may not happen for ANOTHER 2010 years. What do we do in the meantime: prepare our kids to be “realistic” about the world and accept that things are gonna go to hellinahandbasket Some Time Real Soon and not to bother to try to do anything better, (Besides, we already tried THAT and it didn’t work)?

Or do we set them up for the possibility that they will have to build a future on what they have now – and like every generation has done before them, work to make it better than the past?

In order to build they need HOPE.

And it had better start coming from US – atheists, agnostics, angry or born-again, baptized in the Spirit Christians. It had BETTER start coming from us.

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As several of my friends at CODEX are wont to do, *squee!*

A SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH 21: JULY 10, 1946 – JULY 12, 1946

This series is a little bit biographical and a little bit imaginary about my dad and a road trip he took in the summer of 1946, when he turned fifteen. He and a friend hitchhiked from Loring Park to Duluth, into Canada and back again. He was gone from home for a month. I was astonished and fascinated by the tale. So I added some imaginary elements and this series is the result. To read earlier SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH, click on the label to the right. The FIRST entry is on the bottom.

Both Freddie Merrill and Tommy Hastings stared at the older boy, Charlie. He laughed, “What? You ain’t never heard cussin’ before?”

“My dad says it’s only city boys cuss – farm boys are too well-behaved,” blurted Freddie.

Charlie laughed again, then turned back to work, spraying down the milk tanks with warm water which raised a fog when it hit the colder tanks. He added, “Best get to work and don’t say nothin’ about no Herbert Towne*.”

“Why not?” Tommy said, indignant. “He’s my uncle!”

Charlie shot a glance over his shoulder, “Yeah? Well I wouldn’t go bragging about that to too many people. Herbert Towne was one of the best known socialists in Duluth – and you know as well as I do that socialism is a darn sight closer to Communism than most Americans should be comfortable with!”

“What?” Tommy and Freddie exclaimed.

Charlie frowned and looked back at them, saying, “Herbert Towne is a famous socialist – and Dad lost an uncle, a brother and a sister fighting the Jerrys and Japs, so he ain’t much disposed to be harboring Communist sympathizers!”

The boys looked at each other then Tommy said, “Are you gonna kill us?”

Charlie glared at them long and hard, then grunted and turned back to washing the milk tanks. “I don’t reckon so.” He looked over his shoulder and added, “As long as I can get a couple days help from you here on the farm, I’ll consider the fee for me keepin’ my mouth shut paid.”

Tommy and Freddie stared at the older boy’s back. Big, muscly arms poked out from the A-shirt he was wearing. Freddie whispered, “If we said ‘no’, he’ll probably beat us to a bloody pulp.”

“We can take him,” Tommy snapped, angry at the older boy’s blackmail. He lifted his arms up to get ready for a fight – and winced. Closing his eyes, he shook his head, “I forgot about my broken hand.”

Freddie whispered, “You couldn’t fight your way out of a paper bag right now.” He bent his arm and looked at the skinny arm with the bump that was a sad excuse for a bicep. “And I sure as heck can’t take him.”

Charlie said without turning around, “You better just resign yourself to helping me with chores for the next two days.” He turned around, the water spraying just beyond the tips of their shoes. “Besides, in two days we drive to Duluth – and if you guys work hard, Dad will let you ride in the back.”

“With the cans?” Tommy asked.

At the same moment, Freddie asked, “Is he as bad of a driver as you?”

Charlie scowled, sprayed them both with water then grinned. “Naw, you guys can probably sit in front with me and Dad. And he’s a worse driver than me! I usually thank the Good Lord for gettin’ me to Duluth alive; then I thank Him for getting’ me back home alive.” He pondered then added, “I suspect I spend more time praying than’s healthy for a nineteen-year-old man.” He went back to spraying the tanks.

Freddie took a deep breath and asked, “What do you want me to do, Boss?”

Tommy added, “I can help too, long as it’s something a one-armed boy can do.”

Charlie nodded, turned off the hose at the wall, looked down at them and said, “Freddie, you get to muck the barn.” Freddie cussed under his breath ‘cause even though he’d grown up in the City, Dad had talked plenty about mucking out barns when HE was a boy. Freddie suspected that if he ever told his dad about this, his dad would laugh, clap him on the shoulder, call him a fool and laugh some more.

Charlie said to Tommy, “You’re gonna shoot rats.”

Both boys exclaimed, “What?” Charlie crooked a finger at Tommy and led the way out of the barn.

Image: http://www.shootinguk.co.uk/imageBank/cache/2/224-Rat-shot-with-9mm-garde.jpg_e_ab3d1f2f65cddb1b2705ba4c508963f8.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY: “Christians Don’t Care About Planetary Apocalypse!”

Ever see the movie, I AM LEGEND?

I know it’s not the same as the novel (© 1954 by Richard Matheson) or the other three movies made from the same novel and credited with starting the zombie craze. In the book, which I read many years ago, the theme is the isolation experienced by the last human on Earth and how he has become a frightening legend to the members of the “new” humanity – the zombies whom we make to look like idiots staggering drunkenly about…

Neither in the book nor the movies – nor the songs by various bands, or the comic book – are there Christians.

Credited with inventing the concept of world-wide, decimating plague, I AM LEGEND nevertheless has its roots in a novel by FRANKENSTEIN’S creator, Mary Shelley who wrote THE LAST MAN in 1826. In it, the only Christians that show up are wak ones, intent on denying reality.

Hmmm. Sense a theme here?

While ancient history shows that the Christian Church stood by the victims of plague and disease ( Corroboration: from THE RISE OF CHRISTIANITY: A SOCIOLOGIST RECONSIDERS HISTORY by Rodney Stark (http://search.barnesandnoble.com/The-Rise-of-Christianity/Rodney-Stark/e/9780691027494) “a series of devastating plagues played an instrumental role in the seemingly miraculous growth of the early church. In AD 165, and again in AD 251, terrifying epidemics descended upon the Roman Empire, killing between a quarter to a third of the population…family members abandoned their loved ones at the first sign of disease, sometimes tossing them into the roads even before they had died.

“Christians, however, soon gained a reputation for their boldness in the face of death…For these Christians, the epidemic became ‘a time of unimaginable joy,’ a chance for believers to witness to their faith by offering themselves as martyrs”) and current history shows that the Christian Church has (finally) responded to the current global epidemic of AIDS, few others see Christians helping others in disaster.

In fact, I would venture to say that the American perception is that that’s what we have FEMA for and the American Red Cross/Red Crescent. While there are certainly Christians in these organizations, and the Salvation Army has some visibility during disaster, the vast majority of Christians are seen as uncaring, self-absorbed egotists.

They certainly don’t appear in the current spate of post-apocalyptic literature and entertainment. Why not? Who’s doing the writing?

Ah, now THAT’S a situation I can do something about! I can see it now: a post-apocalyptic Christian help group for alien virus infected zombies!

Any other takers?

http://www.globalchange.com/craids.htm

http://www.angelfire.com/id/danlion/

http://www.cbn.com/spirituallife/CBNTeachingSheets/AIDS_Charting_A_Christian_Response.aspx

WRITING ADVICE: Mike Duran #2 – Ten Ways Writing Short Stories Can Benefit Aspiring Novelists

I have never seen Mike Duran. We “met” online a couple years ago because of a little…altercation I caused by saying something less-than-nice about Christian speculative fiction on his blog. Mike, being both a spec-fic writer and editor, won me closer to his side with gentle and wise words. Since then I’ve found that Mike has lots of gentle and wise words. I’m looking at how some of them have had an impact on my own writing in these WRITING ADVICE posts. (Quotes are used with his permission.) He also participates in “ONE OF WRITER'S DIGEST 101 MOST VALUABLE WEBSITES FOR WRITERS, 2008 & 2010”, NOVEL JOURNEY athttp://noveljourney.blogspot.com/. Check him out, he really is THAT good!

I agree with Mike and all those who commented on this one. In fact, despite the statement that there seems to be a controversy/discussion about whether or not “A novelist should write NOVELS!”, there wasn’t any controversy here. David Brin might argue the point – his first publication was the novel SUNDIVER and though he has written stories since and now writes short essays for a living, he started his career with full-blown novels.

On the other hand, I have seen specfic writers who have never left short stories even though they tried. Their novels, when they produced them, were either collections of a series of short stories that filled a story arc (David R. Palmer’s EMERGENCE comes to mind) or their novel wasn’t as strong as their short fiction (Jeffrey D. Kooistra’s DYKSTRA’S WAR) while others never wrote a novel and seem to have spent their career in short stories (Michael Burstein is the author I think of here).

To add to this chorus of agreement, I add my own two cents:

First Cent) Jesus never spoke in novels. He spoke in parables (short stories with a moral point). He spoke in parables on purpose, because most people of his time didn’t read; if they did read, they read Scripture or proclamations. Besides, they just didn’t have time for anything longer! (Does this sound like a people you’re familiar with?)

Second Cent) God wrote in short stories as well. The Bible is a series of 66 “books”, though by today’s definition, The Book of Jonah could be considered FLASH fiction at 1276 words (New American Standard Bible © 1960-1995 The Lockman Foundation). Later monks went further still, breaking down the narrative into little, teeny verses (for easier reference, I’m sure, but it STILL makes it easier in my head to stop after reading Jonah 1…)

I COULD say, “If short stories are good enough for God and Jesus, they’re good enough for me!”

But I won’t say that. I’ll simply agree with Mike Duran (and the other commentators) and add my two cents above. BTW – no matter how good short stories are, I am STILL trying to market all of my novels because novels, more correctly the royalties paid on novels, are how writers can financially survive.

Though once a novel is written and published, it makes it far more difficult for an author to break out of the mold and write something “new”. I know of at least one author who has changed their name to get away from a “fantasy branding” issue in order to get back to their first love, science fiction. I know at least one who wrote novels – both critically acclaimed, award-winning and genre bending as well as the “wrong” novelization. That author has been unable and/or unwilling to get out from under that cloud of expectation to a) please write ANOTHER ONE like… b) oh no, you’ll just write ANOTHER ONE like…

Link to the original article here: http://mikeduran.com/?p=7586

image: http://d28hgpri8am2if.cloudfront.net/book_images/cvr9780689866197_9780689866197.jpg

Slice of PIE: Maybe We Are NOT What We Believe…

(This is NOT a Slice...sorry...)

“‘But surely,’ said Virtue, ‘these things were not the less his own because he learned them from others.’

“‘He did not learn them. He learned only catchwords from them. He could talk like Epicurus of spare diet, but he was a glutton. He had from Montaigne the language of friendship, but no friend. He never read one ode of Horace seriously in his life. And for his Rabelais, he can quote, “Do what you will”. But he has no notion that Rabelais gave that liberty to his Thelamites on the condition that they be bound by Honor, and for this reason alone free from laws positive.’” from CS Lewis, THE PILGRIM’S REGRESS, Book Ten, Chapter 2

I bought this book twenty-four years ago and started reading it this past October. It’s been hard going – Lewis’ book is the story of his own journey from childhood faith to adult faith. It’s written in the style of 17^th Century author, John Bunyan, who wrote PILGRIM’S PROGRESS.

Lewis’ book contains such convoluted phrases as: “He knew now that he was praying…In a sense he said, Spirit is not I, I am it, but I am not the whole of it. When I turn back from the part of it which is not I – that far greater part which my soul does not exhaust – surely that part is to me the Other.” (Book 8, Chapter 4) and impenetrable paragraphs as: “I cannot agree with notions about the other side of the canyon but just because he relegates his delusions to the other side, he is free to agree with me about this side and to be an implacable exposer (like myself) of all attempts to foist upon us any transcendental, romantical, optimistic trash…he canalizes all the mystical nonsense – the sehnsucht and Wanderlust and Nympholepsy…” (Book 6, Chapter 2)

I have a plan to write a book for today that does what these men did for the 17^th and the early 20^th Centuries called PILGRIM’S EXCESS and it will serve the same purpose as Bunyan’s and Lewis’ works did but take place in the City rather than a “land” and address issues we face today – and show how my own journey looks as allegory…

But that’s not my issue today – I take exception with the Church. I launch my arrows at the deflector shield protecting the Lutheran Church in particular as I have been a baptized member since shortly after my fifth birthday (…it’s a long story, don’t ask) and was confirmed, worked in and promoted the theology of Luther ever since.

The problem is that the vast majority of Lutherans know NOTHING of Luther’s theology. In fact, I have a notion that if we were to attach a drive shaft to Luther’s feet in his grave for ten minutes, the speed at which he is spinning would generate enough electrical power to light all of North America at Christmas for a year.

The vast majority of Lutherans don’t understand the Small Catechism nor the Large Catechism. In fact, my experience with several hundred standard Lutheran pastors is that most of them have no idea what Luther did, wrote or intended. They stand on an interpretation of Lutheranism that requires little thought and is easily adjusted to fit into the standard, American, plastic, pluralistic cultural relativism that masquerades as cultural sensitivity and relevance.

Let me point out an example from the Small Catechism, the best known of Luther’s works and the one that a few Lutheran Churches still have their confirmands read and memorize: “The Second Article of the Apostle’s Creed – [I believe] in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. He descended into hell. The third day He rose again from the dead. He ascended into heaven and sits at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty. From thence He will come to judge the living and the dead. Luther asks ‘What does this mean?’ It means that I believe that Jesus Christ, true God, begotten of the Father from eternity, and also true man, born of the Virgin Mary, is my Lord, who has redeemed me, a lost and condemned person, purchased and won me from all sins, from death, and from the power of the devil; not with gold or silver, but with His holy, precious blood and with His innocent suffering and death; that I may be His own and live under Him in His kingdom and serve Him in everlasting righteousness, innocence, and blessedness; just as He is risen from the dead, lives and reigns to all eternity. This is most certainly true.”

In 1970 (Sept. 11 issue), Christianity Today published a survey that revealed that the virgin birth is denied by 60 percent of Methodists, 49 percent of Presbyterians, 44 percent of Episcopalians, 34 percent of American Baptists, and 19 percent of American Lutherans. A more recent, 1998 poll shows that these numbers not only reflect the congregation but the pastoral leadership as well.

If one in five Lutherans and their pastors don’t believe in the Virgin Birth of the Christ – and a Barna Research Group poll indicates that the Virgin Birth is the MOST believed story in the Bible – then what ELSE do they imply they believe in by being Lutherans…but don’t really think it’s necessary to believe in?

Convoluted? Hmmm, yes. To put it more succinctly: If a person doesn’t accept what Luther WROTE in the Small Catechism (intended for children) or the Large Catechism (intended for pastors and leaders), then leave and join a church that DOES proclaim what you believe!

I find it offensive when members of the Lutheran Church try to change, water down or ignore parts of Luther’s writing by saying, “Oh, that was then, what he would have written NOW is…” or “We need to bring the Lutheran Church into the 21^st Century! We need to be more relevant!”

I think Luther had something to say about that, too: “How pitiable, so help me God, were the things I saw: the common man, especially in the villages, knows practically nothing of Christian doctrine, and many of the pastors are almost entirely incompetent and unable to teach. Yet all the people are supposed to be Christians, have been baptized, and receive the Holy Sacrament even though they do not know the Lord's Prayer, the Creed, or the Ten Commandments and live like poor animals of the barnyard and pigpen. What these people have mastered, however, is the fine art of tearing all Christian liberty to shreds.”

A larger question still that bothers me though is how many Christians conform to the Nicene Creed? How many Christians – especially Evangelicals – even know WHAT the Nicene Creed is? If you don’t know, why not? It IS a document that unified the Church’s theology starting in 325 AD. Yet the Wikipedia article states that it means nothing to the Evangelical Church; only the liturgical church! Does this mean that Evangelicals can believe whatever they want to believe? Most of them say, “We believe God’s Word!” Cool – but don’t they mean “We believe our interpretation of God’s Word!”? Otherwise we wouldn’t have the Baptist Church, the Evangelical Free Church, the Christian Missionary Alliance and a plethora of “independents”…Questions for a later blog, I guess.

Your thoughts?

http://www2.elca.org/christianeducation/programs/smallcat.html

http://www.cph.org/t-topic-catechism-creed.aspx

http://www.religioustolerance.org/virgin_b7.htm

http://www.barna.org/barna-update/article/12-faithspirituality/88-americans-express-their-views-of-the-virgin-birth-of-christ

http://www2.elca.org/christianeducation/programs/smallcat.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicene_Creed

image: http://images7.cpcache.com/product_zoom/399319907v17_400x400_Front_Color-White.jpg

ALSO up today at THE FRIDAY CHALLENGE...

A different blog I always read and occasionally write for has a short essay by me about why I write. If you're interested:

http://thefridaychallenge.blogspot.com/2010/12/why-we-write_19.html

A SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH 20: July 10, 1946-July 11, 1946

This series is a little bit biographical and a little bit imaginary about my dad and a road trip he took in the summer of 1946, when he turned fifteen. He and a friend hitchhiked from Loring Park to Duluth, into Canada and back again. He was gone from home for a month. I was astonished and fascinated by the tale. So I added some imaginary elements and this series is the result. To read earlier SHORT LONG JOURNEY NORTH, click on the label to the right. The FIRST entry is on the bottom.

That night, Charlie introduced Tommy Hastings and Freddie Merrill to his dad – Charlie’s mom had died two years earlier from pneumonia, it was just the two of them ran the former dairy farm. Fairlaine’s Creamery, aka, Charlie and his dad, thought that having two extra sets of hands around the place would be the best thing since sliced bread.

Tommy hastily added, “We gotta head up to Duluth though. My aunt and uncle are expecting us.”

Mr. Fairlaine nodded slowly, eyeing the boys. He said, “You boys ain’t in any trouble, are you? Anything I should worry about? Tangled up with mobsters or witches or socialists or anything like that?”

Eyes wide, both boys shook their head, Freddie with both hands behind his back and Tommy with one hand back and one hand in a sling.

Mr. Fairlaine grunted then lifted his chin to Charlie, “Keep ‘em busy, but don’t let Tommy hurt his hand any more. My brother’ll kill me if I let his little project get hurt.” Then he’d gone into the main house, leaving the three boys in the barn with a small herd of cows and the huge milk tanks where the raw milk was stored.

Freddie blurted, “What project is your dad talking about?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and started across the barn, picking up a hose and turning on the water. It trickled out of the mouth. He said, “Uncle Chris is always patching up the poor and the lost and sending ‘em to us to take care of.”

Tommy exclaimed, “We ain’t lost! We’re on our way to Duluth!”

“Where in Duluth? Dad and I drive there every other day with the milk truck. We deliver mostly to the creamery there, but we sell to smaller places, too. I know Duluth like I know the back of my hand.” He turned and started spraying down one of the tanks.

Tommy looked at Freddie who looked at Charlie. Finally Tommy said, “I’m gonna find my mom and dad’s families.”

Charlie didn’t look at them, but said loudly, “Do your mom and dad’s family’s have last names?”

Freddie shook his head when Tommy looked at him. Charlie turned around, taking his finger off the end of the hose so the water just dribbled from the hose again rather than spurting all over the boys. Tommy pursed his lips then said, “My dad’s family are named Hastings; Mom’s uncle was Herbert Towne.”

Charlie’s eyes grew wide, then he covered the end of the hose again, turning just before he sprayed the boy’s feet and said, “Don’t let Dad hear you say that name on this farm – or you might end up with a shotgun barrel up your ass.”

image: http://midwatchcrew.com/Images/tankgene.jpg

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: What Are People Afraid Of?

I’ve shoveled the driveway six times in the past two days.

After digging out from the “Sixth Worst Blizzard In Minnesota History!”, we are facing several days of sub-zero temperatures (-10 F) and brutal wind chills (ranging from -15 to -40). It started me wondering why no one has ever attempted to write a hard science fiction novel set on a world with a biology, ecology and sociology that would match Frank Herbert’s and Brian Herbert & Kevin Anderson’s DUNE books.

Not that we aren’t happy sending our heroes TO snow worlds! Luke Skywalker nearly died on the drifts of Hoth and Captain Kirk was almost eaten on the ice fields of Delta Vega in one time line and sentenced to prison on the Klingon ice moon of Rura Penthe in another.

Ursual K. LeGuin’s THE LEFT HAND OF DARKNESS takes place on Winter or Gethe and while the world is certainly cold and dreary, the planet serves as metaphor to support her exploration of human sexuality, rather than representing a “real” world.

CJ Mills (a former Minnesotan) also created Winter World – though it seemed her intent there was to form a chilly backdrop for steamy romance and hot-blooded intrigue. More recently, Catherine Asaro used the world of Skyfall for the same purpose – done well, but really not much more than backdrop.

Why?

I have two theories. The first is that a winter world is BOR-ing! Everyone has snow. Everyone’s been in a blizzard. Ice is something you put in drinks. Northern animals are mostly dull (though moose are kinda cool, reindeer gave rise to Rudolph and polar bears rock). Santa’s about the only exciting thing to come out of the Poles, and that’s only one night a year. Polar societies are also “primitive” (I’m reading GUNS, GERMS AND STEEL by Jared Diamond, so I’m saying that tongue-in-cheek) and there’s nothing war-mongering about Inuit in kayaks spearing narwhals. Besides, everyone knows what goes on under the blankets on cold winter nights…certainly nothing worth writing SERIOUS science fiction about.

Deserts on the other hand, have always fascinated us with their mystery. Say desert and you think of Bedoins, Lawrence of Arabia, Queen Nefertiti and King Tut and the Pyramids of Egypt!

Say arctic and you think of snowshoe hares, blubber chewing, mushing and eating sticks of butter for breakfast. Hardly the stuff of major fiction and certainly not interesting enough to get a film option.

The other theory though intrigues me and what started as a small bug has grown into the beginning of a collection of notes and a name: Sirmiq. It’s an Inuit word for “glacier”. Sirmiq will be the name of a world I have in mind to build. It will be an exceedingly difficult job.

That’s why I don’t think anyone has really tried before. It’s too hard. For one thing, it’s impossible to have life evolve in such a cold place, right? You need black smokers or boiling lava or something else to provide the energy to drive evolution. Life can’t EVOLVE in a place like that! You need heat to drive the passion that makes story!

Hmmm…

Lemme see, I’ll grant that you need insolation or radiation or geothermals and liquid water as well as basic elements and minerals to drive the formation of amino acids…but what if it happened even more slowly that it happened here? What if, at lower temperatures all that stuff still happened, just at a slower pace? What would happen to higher life forms that evolved from the slower-paced unicellular life? Is slower necessarily bad – AIDS is not a “fast” disease and doesn’t manifest itself in outward symptoms until it’s nearly too late to do anything about it. What if every life form was like that?

See, I think to do this – for me to create SIRMIQ – I’ll need to do a James Michener. In CENTENNIAL, he started the novel with the formation of Earth and the Rockies and ended with a man born of the people who had lived in that land for tens of thousands of years. Frank Herbert worked for five years researching and writing DUNE and published two shorter versions in ANALOG. Unable to interest the usual science fiction publishers like Ace, Ballantine, or Berkeley in the whole thing, he was finally accepted by the publishers of CHILTON’S car repair manuals!

I’ve only just begun research, but it’s promising. I’ve written a couple of experimental stories on Sirmiq, but neither one has sold, though one, “The Stars Like Nails” has evolved from one kind of story into something totally different and I have yet to write that "new" story. I have a clear image though: a man sitting on an ice block; across from him an old Inuit woman in a tent; between them, a body on a long block of ice; to one side, the wing of a shuttlecraft shelters them all from heavily falling snow. I think I know where it’s going…

What do you think is the reason we don’t have a cold world on par with DUNE – too boring or too difficult?

Me? I’m opting that no one’s had the guts to really try it!

image:http://esseacourses.strategies.org/images/module/scenario/eba56c7f5ae2bb8ca51a228cab64730f.jpg