D is for Doppelganger

There are more important things I could write about, but here's all I have time for:

Carolyn and I are big Johnny Depp fans and I was looking forward to bringing the boys to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, until I saw the previews. Depp's Willy Wonka is creepy-looking... Given Gene Wilder's enchanting portrayal in the 1971 movie, there has been some question as to how Depp intends to make the character his own. No one will mistaken Depp's 1920's bob for Wilder's curly mop. Now, judging by his wardrobe, many have opined that Michael Jackson has been his inspiration though Depp has vehemently denied it - possibly because an accused child molester makes a bad tie-in for a children's movie... Can you imagine Michael Jackson singing The Candy Man?

I, however, believe his fey metrosexual look is derived from Donna Tartt. They could be sisters, I mean, brother and sister... Tartt, author of The Secret History - story of a New England college murder - and The Little Friend - a child murder mystery, but this time in the deep South - makes a better muse particularly for Tim Burton's love of the gothic and macabre. I think Depp's Wonka gives me the heebie jeebies as he reminds me of Tartt's photo - stern headmistress only moments away from beating a naughty student with a hickory switch. Also a bad tie-in for a children's movie...

Any way, I'm not sure what the buzz is for the movie, but here's my two cents worth...

R is for Reading

If you were to ask me what my hobbies were, the one that would come to mind first would be, without a doubt, reading. I probably shouldn't even call it a hobby which implies that I do it on the side whenever I have time. On the contrary, reading is a fundamental part of my daily schedule around which all other activities - work, chores, eating and sleeping - revolve.

Having said as much, I have to reveal to you an embarassing secret: I haven't finished a book in about a year's time! (The last two books that I finished in May of last year were Disposable People by Kevin Bales - a sociological study on world slavery - and How Soccer Explains the World by Franklin Foer - an evaluation of soccer's influence on current events.) It isn't because the books I have now are boring. Here are the books on my night stand:

Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie
More Ready Than You Realize by Brian McLaren
The Way of the (Modern) World by Craig Gay
Jonathan Edwards by George Marsden
The Chinese in America by Iris Chang
10 Essentials of Highly Healthy People by Walt Larimore
United by Faith by DeYoung, Emerson, Yancey & Kim
The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz
The Call by Os Guinness (a re-read)
I'm a Stranger Here Myself by Bill Bryson (a re-read)
Ancient Wine by Patrick McGovern

So, why haven't I been reading these books? After pondering over this question for about a week now, I've come up with three reasons, or excuses depending on your perspective. First, my book reading has been displaced by journal, magazine and newspaper reading that has been so readily available with the advent of high speed internet. I probably spend at least an hour each day reading on the internet, collecting interesting articles for sermon illustrations and catching up with European soccer, but most of that time is spent on aimless, mind-numbing surfing. Do I really care about the Michael Jackson paedophile case? Not really, but I can't keep myself from clicking on his face...


Second, I normally read books right before I go to bed taking in 3 chapters in 3 different books before I knock off. But this habit has been disrupted ever since we've moved back to the States. For about a year now, the Times (London's newspaper) has been publishing online a daily math puzzle called Su Doku. As you can see, a Su Doku is nine blocks of nine squares each. The object is to fill each block with the numbers 1 through 9 without repeating any of the numbers within each block or repeating on any row or column. Try it. They're so much fun and infinitely more challenging than crosswords or cryptoquotes. Needless to say, they are also time-consuming...

Third and last, I blame my diminished book reading on - you guessed it - TV. Our local FOX affiliate shows reruns of the comedy, Malcolm in the Middle, from 11:30PM to 12:30AM. I heard nothing of this show while we were in the UK, so Carolyn and I spend our late evenings together catching up on the old episodes. Most nights we find ourselves biting on our pillows to stiffle our laughter lest we wake up the kids. We love this show! (Apparently, Malcolm is popular with 4th graders, too. I was helping out in Stuart's class one day and all the kids were mimicking Malcolm's paraplegic, asthmatic friend Stevie, "Mr. - gasp - Lee - gasp - May - gasp - I - gasp - go - gasp - to - gasp - the - gasp, gasp - bathroom?") Malcolm's humor is a bit absurd, but the cast of characters is engaging with pretty high production values: Most half-hour sit-coms settle with a routine plot and sub-plot format, whereas I have noticed that Malcolm quite frequently has four storylines.

Those that mourn the demise of situation comedy should give Malcolm a second look, but... Man! It is distracting... I have resolved today that I am going to set aside a book-reading hour in the morning. I want to make a commitment to reading books again, because it's good for me, but honestly, I don't want to tell people my hobbies are Su Dokus and watching Malcolm in the Middle. People may already think that I am a geek, but all this confirms it...

S is for Star Wars

What's the fad du jour at the Lee household? Star Wars! Only a month ago it was Bionicle this and Bionicle that, but as I witnessed in the play room the other day, those heroic toys have taken on new roles as storm troopers of the evil empire - mere cannon fodder for Jedi Stuart and Ethan.

This recent affectation began in earnest during our Easter vacation when Ethan did not want to leave the hotel room in fear that we may miss the Star Wars shorts on Cartoon Network. Since that time, we have been overwhelmed by the multi-media barrage of Star Wars paraphernalia including Kellogg's Episode III tie-in, lightsabre spoons. (By the way, does anyone know if they are going to bring back Yoda Soda?) How do you tell a 6-year-old that these trinkets will be worth more unopened, mint in the box? You can't... You just enjoy watching them eat bite after crunchy bite of Apple Jacks and Corn Pops with their glowing spoons and making the occasional light sabre sound effect - wha-wha-woo...

Speaking of sound effects, I don't know what kind of idiocy possessed me, but while watching the boys in a lightsabre battle, I started singing these stupid, made-up lyrics to the John Williams' Star Wars theme:

Star Wars!
Beautiful Star Wars!
Beautiful Star Wars!
Up in the sky...

The sad thing about it is that I can't get it out of my head. Even worse, the boys are singing it while playing... Ethan is known to hum the tune while sitting on the can...

Like all fads, Star Wars creeps into every aspect of our lives. A few weeks back we took the boys to a Renaissance Fair. They consented to go with us as we promised them that they would get to see kings, queens and knights in battle. It was a pretty good outing, though I must say that Renaissance Fair groupies are, if not pretentious, a bit too absorbed into their hobby at the expense of their sense of humor. Perhaps their tights are chaffing... Here is an exchange that Ethan had with one of them:

Ethan: Hey, are you a knight?
Man: Why yes I am. I am a knight.
Ethan: Are you a Jedi knight?
Man: What?
Ethan: Are you a Jedi knight?
Man: I do not know of these knights that you call Jedi...

I felt he was being unnecessarily rude to Ethan. Next time anyone does that to my son, I might just attack him with my sabre spoon. Worse yet, I'll sing the Star Wars theme... Talk about your purgatory...

E is for Egg Hunt (Stuart's Version)

Note: As a follow up to what I wrote a couple of weeks ago, here is Stuart's own blog of the annual city egg hunt:

One day, our family went to the Bond Park Easter Egg hunt. My family was so early, I had to wait 30 min. until I could start collecting. There were eggs that were not more than 1 inch away from me. I was dying to pick it up but that would be cheating. Eventually I survived the temptation. Ten seconds were remaining. When they got down to 5, it was too much for me. I eventually pushed down a 7 year old kid on 0. I even forgot to pick up the really close eggs.

F is for Finance

"How to Finance a Hollywood Blockbuster" published earlier this week by Slate Magazine is eye-opening behind-the-scenes look at how Paramount Studios made a profit on the dreadful "Lara Croft: Tomb Raider." It just goes to show that the most creative - and hence, powerful - forces in Hollywood these days are the accountants. Perhaps there should be a new category for CPAs at the Oscars next year...

This may seem odd, but I have always looked in awe to people in finance. In part, it is because I am so inept at it: I don't even bother to balance my checkbook anymore. We often see accountants as mild-mannered calculator-carrying, pocket-protected nerds, but none of the great works of art, architecture and even military campaigns would have come to pass if it weren't for bankers, backers and angels. Form may follow function or vice versa, but both must conform to finance...

One of the first blogs I wrote back in 2001 was about my favorite building in southern California - the Disneyland parking structure:

The family went to Disneyland this past week and we all had a great time, even me. I soaked in the ambiance of the happiest place on earth, hopping on and off rides mindless of their mixed messages - admiring the majestic concrete heights of the faux Matterhorn before descending into hell with Mr. Toad; affirming the brotherhood of humankind on It's a Small World, while enduring the racial stereotypes portrayed in Jungle Cruise - yet the real joy for me was using the new parking lot. Indeed, the facility is a design marvel, but for the techno-geek like myself, it was the best ride in the park and well worth the seven dollar fee. The "Mickey & Friends" parking structure is immense - six-stories high and several football fields across, yet it only took 5 minutes to park and more amazingly it only took a couple minutes to leave as each parking level has its own exit ramp onto Interstate 5. As admirable as the engineering was, I was even more impressed by the backroom finagling of the Disney executives to get the structure built. In 1994, when it looked like the $131 million urban eyesore was not going to be approved by the Anaheim municipal authorities, the House of Mouse spin doctors repackaged the garage as a $223 million "transit facility" with express bus service, rail connections and park-and-ride space for the purpose of alleviating the traffic congestion choking Orange County . This big act of altruism immediately won plaudits from all sectors sucking in enough federal, county and city aid to get the thing built. But, hey; I'm not cynical! I'm grateful. So I bow down to Michael Eisner and the men in mouse grey suits for an awesome parking experience. When it comes down to it, I don't want to be using 30-40 minutes parking my car when that time could be better wasted waiting in line for a $5 bottle of water or $10 cheeseburger or the toilet or... Take care. As He leads, Dick

What applies to Hollywood and town planning holds true in ministry. Pastors and missionaries with vision and drive are a dime a dozen, but show me a compassionate comptroller and I'll show you a ministry that is dynamic and reaching people for Christ. The tricky part about church economics is recognizing the fact that a successful ministry doesn't make a profit. I look back in amazement at the wonderful groundbreaking years of ministry in Europe with Chinese Overseas Christian Mission. We were always in the red, but just so... Even though I often tested the patience of the mission's treasurer with my remedial bookkeepping, he always made sure that I had what I needed for the ministry. Looking back, it was not necessarily that he trusted me personally - "Sure, Dick, you can have airfare to the Bahamas!" - but that he had a deep, intimate knowledge of our mission field and most important of all, an open heart to God's voice in prayer.

This morning a friend called to see if I would be interested in seeking out a local businessman who is known worldwide for funding Asian-American ministry projects in hopes of getting his backing to develop ministry here in North Carolina. I'm a bit reticent: As much as I need a savvy entrepreneur to sort out my dollars and cents, I'd rather that we forge a spirtual relationship in finding God's will for us both. Form follows function follows finance in the world, but faith is the foundation for all who wish to serve in Christ's kingdom...

P is for Penny

Wherever we travel, the boys like to get a souvenir or two from the attractions we visit on our vacations. Recently, Ethan has been demanding toy guns - western six shooters, pop muskets, laser guns - whatever WMD is available at the gift shop. Stuart is a bit more eclectic in his choices, but one that he always asks for (and since his big brother is getting one, Ethan will want one too) is a flattened commemorative penny. For instance, at Disneyland you can get an engraving of Mickey, Minnie, Donald or Goofy. At the local science center you can stamp out a spaceship, an astronaut and two different types of dinosaurs.

I used to think that this was a pretty good collectors item, until we used the machine at Presidents Park. The choices? Washington, Lincoln, Jefferson and Roosevelt. Tell me if this makes sense: I give Stuart and Ethan each 51 cents - half a dollar for the use of the machine and the penny to be flatten - and each boy in turn defaces said legal tender to receive an engraving of their favorite president - Abraham Lincoln! I'm thinking to myself, "Wasn't there already a picture of Lincoln on those pennies?" If that was all they wanted I could have saved myself a dollar and just give them both a penny. Hey, I could have given each of them a penny along with a nickel, a dime and even a quarter and it would still be cheaper.

To top it off, minutes later when Ethan ran out into the park, he casually tossed aside the flattened penny onto the lawn. It's interesting how different adult and child perceptions are: I was more concerned for the object at hand as a momento or keepsake, whereas his pleasure came from just using the machine - an act that is simultaneous creative and destructive. Which brings me back to those guns...

P is for Presidents Park

During the recent spring vacation, Carolyn and I took the kids up to Williamsburg, Virginia. Instead of visiting the area's major attractions - historic Colonial Williamsburg or the theme park, Busch Gardens, we spent most of the time vegetating in our hotel room with hours of Cartoon Network (we don't have cable at home) punctuated occasionally with swims in the indoor pool, afternoon naps and fastfood meals. When home is also your workplace, vacations are when you don't do anything...

[Aside: Cartoon Network is awesome. It's no longer just the Dexter's Lab channel as it now has animation in a variety of genre and tastes. Our favorite cartoons? Carolyn and I really like Teen Titans; Ethan is enthralled with the Star Wars shorts and Stuart, well, let's just say that his picture in the dictionary next to couch potato. When he's watching CN, his response to every question is, "Huh?" But, in spite of that, we're seriously thinking that our next family weekend getaway will be to my parent's place 20 minutes away. They have cable...]

Now, we did try to do something active and educational by visiting Presidents Park. When we were planning our vacation, it sounded intriguing: Why bother to go to Mount Rushmore to see four presidential busts, when you could see all 43 sculpted "Heads" of State from George I to George III. As a history buff, I envisioned a leisurely time taking pictures of my favorite presidents - Wilson and Carter - and reading up on presidential trivia. I even thought up a game for Stuart and Ethan who are learning their presidents in school: I would shout out like the maddest mullah, "Bring me the head of George Bush!" and then race each other to his statue.

The trip turned out to be, uh... a bust. When we saw the park's nearly empty parking lot, we should have turned around and headed back to the hotel for the next rerun of Totally Spies. At first glance of the exhibit you can see why. It aspires to Mount Rushmore's greatness, yet falls miserably short. It's too kitschy - more reminiscent of a circus sideshow than the British Museum. The statues aren't imposing marble or granite, but made of cheap fiberglass; and besides, they were so poorly kept that you'd think that one characteristic that all the presidents had in common was leprosy. The northern Virginian winter took a toll on the park especially on the bust of Ronald Reagan. Here's a workman giving his statue a rhinoplasty - a little nipper on the Gipper...

I think we stayed at the park for less than an hour. Carolyn spent much of that time in front of the men's room waiting for Stuart who decided that he needed to poo. Meanwhile, I was preoccupied with Ethan who took it upon himself to reposition a sign directing patrons to Lincoln's statue to point towards Benjamin Harrison instead. I suppose he thought Harrison's statue a better likeness of our 16th president. I don't think that anyone would have known the difference...

Anyway, we gave up on James, James and Jimmy for Ed, Edd n Eddy. Cartoon characters beat politicians any day, but hey, it's vacation: Don't make me think...

DIY is for Destroy It Yourself

A couple of months back, Stuart, while sitting in front of his open bedroom window, absent-mindedly poked holes in the plastic mesh screen, an important part of the window. Homes in North Carolina must have them to keep the indigenous hoard of blood-sucking insects out when the windows are open. Otherwise, you might as well douse yourself with sugar water, stand outside and yell,"Dinner, come and get it!"

At the time, all I did was to dock Stuart's allowance; but now that it's spring and we want to leave the windows open, I had to fix the screen. I should have left well enough alone...

Somehow, changing a mesh screen, a job that would take the normal person 15 minutes to complete, has now taken me 3 hours and it still isn't done. I went to Home Depot - the local Do It Yourself store - and bought everything that I needed. I followed the instructions, I put the screen up and it was too big. I tried to wedge it into place and cracked the frame. I went back to Home Depot and bought everything that I needed. I put it up for a second time and now it is too small, leaving a wide gap which couldn't keep out a rodent with a severe glandular disorder much less an insect. I can't figure out where I went wrong and I still have to go back to Home Depot. It's really not the place where I want everyone to know my name...

You know, when people are drunk you take away their keys and you don't serve them any more alcohol. They are dangerous, because they don't know what they are doing. When it comes to home improvement they should do the same for me. They should have my photo posted at all the DIYs with the caption, "Do not serve this man. Report to the manager immediately." I should be issued a restraining order that keeps me at least 500 feet away. Better yet, I should be put on Neighborhood Watch. My home needs to be protected from myself.

I do believe there is a spiritual lesson to be learned here. What is it? Why don't you see n say?