See n Say

D is for Doppelganger

2005-06-26T21:39:00.000-05:00

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

2005-05-21T21:13:00.000-05:00

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

2005-05-06T12:03:00.000-05:00

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)

2005-04-29T21:37:00.000-05:00

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

2005-04-29T08:39:00.000-05:00

"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

2005-04-25T17:00:00.000-05:00

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

2005-04-16T09:57:00.000-05:00

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

2005-04-11T12:42:00.000-05:00

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?

E is for Egg Hunt

2005-04-08T20:16:00.000-05:00

During Easter week, Carolyn and I took Stuart and Ethan to the annual Town of Cary Easter Egg Hunt. I really wasn't looking forward to it as the frivolity of the event (not to mention the bright pastel colors) seem antithetical to the Lenten season. I like my Easters quiet and contemplative - mediating on our Lord's death and resurrection. This is nigh impossible to do on a field filled with hundreds of children and their parents repeating the same conversation over and over:

Child: Is it time to start yet? Why can't we start? Can I pick up just one egg?
Parent: No... The Easter bunny is still hiding the eggs... We'll start when he's ready... Hey, put that down...

Amazingly, in the midst of that hubbub, I was able to have a decent conversation with my son. Carolyn had taken Ethan to another field for the egg hunt for younger children, so I was looking after Stuart. After 10 years of life together, either he is growing up or I have become a more child-centered parent, but at times I am finding that we can carry on relatively lucid conversations that don't have any thing to do with GameBoys or GameCubes:

Me: So, Stuart, what do you think of this egg hunt?
Stuart: It's my first and last one. [The cut off is 10 years old.]
Me: Do you think that it has anything to do with Easter?
Stuart: Well, yeah...
Me: Really? What does hunting for eggs have to do with Jesus?
Stuart: Well, like eggs are a symbol of life. They're suppose to remind of us of the new life we have in Jesus. Don't you know?
Me: Wow...

Don't let this moment of Stuart's spiritual maturity fool you; he's still very much a kid. As the start of the egg hunt neared, I reminded him that there were a lot of smaller children about and that he should be considerate of them. In fact, Stuart heard this admonition twice, as a mother who had eavesdropped on my parental advice loudly repeated my words verbatim to her large brood. Feeling rather proud and satisfied that I have insured the security of our sector, I walked out to to the middle of the field to wait for a good photo of Stuart, etal. running towards me. I ended up taking this film clip instead. What can I say? All I know is that I'm going to show this at his wedding if he ever gets married.

M is for Multi-Ethnic

2005-04-03T20:36:00.000-05:00

There's an awesome article published in the latest Christianity Today - Harder than Anyone Can Imagine. It is a transcript of a moderated forum of American church leaders including Bill Hybels of Willow Creek Community Church on the thesis proposed by the book, United by Faith that Christian churches should - when possible - be multiracial.

My enjoyment of this article is in great part a feeling of vindication. I wanted to take the English ministry at the Raleigh Chinese Christian Church towards this path as a light to the nations in our multi-ethnic community, but, unfortunately, this vision was not in common with the rest of the eldership. Though not the only reason, it is one of the major reasons I resigned from the church. (Those reasons which I have heard about me through the grapevine that are dead wrong: basket case of ministry burnout, expelled because of some grave, dark sin, booted because I was a "liberal, Blue-state Californian.") It's sad: RCCC's theme at its new building dedication was from Isaiah 54:2 - Enlarge the place of your tent; stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes - a great mission passage, yet the church leadership couldn't even make room for me...

Why do I prefer multi-ethnic? My own journey begins with Galatians 3:28 - There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. The partyline interpretation is that this passage has less to do with racial reconciliation or gender equality than with the specifics of salvation which God opens to all in Jesus Christ. Though I agree that contextually the Apostle Paul is proposing a union in Christ that transcends ethnicity, sexuality and socio-economic position, I must asked how is this to be practiced? How is the depth of this profound theological concept suppose to be expressed visibly to the world if not through the church, the body of Christ? As the CT article points out, racial unity isn't high on the agenda of American churches as less than 6 percent of them are multi-ethnic churches (those which have at least 20 percent of their congregants of another ethnic group). If less than 6 percent of universities or government institutions were integrated wouldn't we be up in arms? Not much has changed since the 1960s when Martin Luther King, Jr. preached that 11 o'clock on Sundays is the most segregated hour...

I have tried to storm the walls of the church as the last bastion of racism and I failed miserably. I realize now that my inability to change the church was forgetting how much God had to do to change me as an individual and that others may not have had the privilege to experience. For instance, my senior year in college I took a course on MLK which profoundly altered my thinking theologically and transformed me spiritually. As part of that class, we attended a seminar by Dr. Charles King (no relation to MLK) who at one point during his lecture marched towards students and brusquely asked, "You're in a car accident. You need help. Before you, equal distance from you, stand two houses - one is a home of a white family, one is a home of a black family. Which house to do go to for help?" To the student who honestly answered that he would go to the white family's home, he shouted, "You know why? It's because you are a racist!" To the poor WASP girl who said that she would go to the black family, King was enraged: "You're worse than a racist... You're a liar!"

Dr. King didn't come around to ask me, though I was fretfully and fearfully preparing what I thought then was a witty answer: "I'm Chinese. We don't ask anybody for help. We'd rather die!" Looking back I did see and still see now that that sophomoric comment revealed to me my deep racism: I hated whites... I feared blacks... Jews were intellectual snobs... Japanese are dishonest... Italians are all part of organized crime... It's amazing what God had to purge out of my system even before I entered into ministry...

I write about this now not only to acknowledge the CT article; not only to commemorate the passing of a great Pope of reconciliation, but to let folks know that the family and I are considering Grace Bible Fellowship (now mostly African-American) as our church home and ask for your prayers.

GBF has a great vision, but yet not a full-service church that meets our needs as a family: Are we willing to sacrifice and serve at great cost? If I start attending and serving in a multi-ethnic church, will I ever return to or be accepted by the Chinese church where prophets and messengers of God's all-encompassing love are few and far between? Would I be blacklisted as a radical? (I don't even like the Asian-American church model as it doesn't go far enough as I believe a multi-ethnic church should. Also, I believe that Asian-American is a monocultural church in disguise as it often ends up catering to a single uppercrust socio-economic class. Worse than racism, it believes its own lie that it is outreaching...) Most important, though GBF may be where I am, is it right for me to drag Carolyn, Stuart and Ethan there? See n say...

T is for Training

2005-03-31T19:57:00.000-05:00

Recently our architectural graphics company, Venture Graphics, took on a huge project of over 100 homes which was more than the four guys on staff could handle so we hired on a few contract workers. For the most part they have been doing excellent work, except for a couple of repetitive mistakes in Photoshop. This week, I've been creating training presentations to address those errors. Check out this one: Tracing and Masking behind Railing. There's a lot of graphics jargon in it, but I think you can get the drift. I'm having fun! Also, with these presentations, we are getting prepared for that day that we will support tent-making missionaries who can learn our work online. See n Say...

B is for Bionicles

2005-03-27T14:25:00.000-05:00

We would like to think that as parents our children are being molded into our likeness, but at times it seems that the opposite is true. Take, for instance, Bionicles. For the uninitiated, Bionicles are a set of Lego bricks that are assembled into android-like characters. Stuart and Ethan can spend hours in mock battles and wars until, that is, the fighting get too personal - when a punch to Ethan's Bionicle is retaliated in kind on Stuart's person. (Carolyn and I can tell when things are getting rough as we will hear our children shouting in Gollum-like voices using only the verbs - kill, murder, die, destroy or blow up.)

Still, I can live with that, if it weren't for the fact that these toys have invaded every other aspect of our lives. Like all toys of this generation, Bionicles are diversified into all media - Gamecube and GameBoy games, comic books and DVDs. Fashion is not immune as Nike makes children's shoes with interchangeable Bionicle masks. Though we don't own any of those overpriced shoes we do have a couple of Bionicle electric toothbrushes. You can't get away from the merchandizing. A trip to the market must include a Bionicle or a Bionicle GameBoy game. A visit to Grandma and Grandpa's home will inevitably end with the boys at the computer on the Bionicle website. Dinner is not dinner without a Bionicle comic book as reading material. Any conversation will always include the phrase, "Mommy, Daddy, when can we get the new Bionicle...?"

It's hard not to get cynical about the toys and their pseudo-classical mythology - God-like creatures called the Toa of light, Toa of fire, Toa of wind, Toa of rock, etc. Last holiday season, I mockingly asked Stuart, "Hey, do you know that Lego is making a new Bionicle for Christmas? It's called Mistle Toa and his power is blowing kisses! Ha ha ha!" Of course, Stuart rightfully ignored me as did the webmaster on the Lego website when I entered that joke on their bulletin board - "You're comments have been eliminated as they were deemed inappropriate for this site."

If you can't beat them, join them. We have given in to their habits. Trips to the bookstore have been replaced by Target runs for new Bionicles. So far no weekend fishing expeditions: We took a Saturday outing to a Legopalooza convention, which unfortunately had no Bionicle display. I am sure Stuart and Ethan thought the convention was "Legos for losers." One of the games for Stuart's birthday was a Bionicle building contest, which Stuart won in a cake walk as you can see in this film clip. All his friends were amazed at how fast he was. I wonder if his Lego-building prowess can be harnessed for good... Civil engineer? Architect? Cybernetics? Bionicle evangelist? Or will Carolyn and I find ourselves in ten years time hawking Legos on EBay to recoupe our losses? See n say...

A is for Allergies

2005-03-20T11:22:00.000-05:00

I love peanut butter. It's great on celery, in sandwiches - grape jelly or banana - or as a sauce for satay... When I was in school, the cafeteria served peanut butter bars which everyone hated except for me. I'd have 10 at a go. I can just sit in front of the TV and eat spoonfuls of peanut butter straight from the jar. It doesn't matter what brand, creamy or chunky, low fat, low salt or regular... Jimmy Carter is my favorite president... I want a statue of the peanut king, George Washington Carver on my front lawn...

So, it is pretty surprising that Ethan should have an allergy to peanuts. His teacher calls home to tell us that while they were working on a birdfeeder (pinecone, bird seed and string), Ethan wiped peanut butter- used to "glue" the seed on the pinecone - onto his face and developed an allergic reaction. The area around his mouth turned a rosy red as if he were applying lipstick while riding public transportation. Fortunately, it wasn't too serious and Ethan was back to normal that afternoon.

Anyway, I'm reminded that spring is here - flowers will be blooming, pollen hanging like a fog - and my allergies are on the way...

O is for Offense Folk Songs

2005-03-16T19:59:00.000-05:00

Recently, I've been digitalizing much of the music that I have stored up through the ages. One of the oldest albums to undergo this media transformation is The Lollipop Tree an LP of children's music sung by Burl Ives, whom most of us know as the voice of the snowman narrator in Rankin and Bass' Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. (Those of us with a bit more culture recognize him as Big Daddy in the classic film, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.) The process of digitalization is quite difficult with the limited hard and software I have. I set up a turntable to tape onto a cassette which in due turn feeds into my PowerBook G4 running Audacity which then transfers the music into large AIFFs for iTunes to finish into MP3s.

It's hard work, but a labor of love: The Lollipop Tree was our very first album. My sisters and I spent many happy hours listen to this record and to think - the memories of my childhood are now distilled into 1s and 0s for eternity (or until my hard drive gives out.)

But, does Ives' mellifuous voice mask a sinister nature in these folk songs? Or in my adulthood, am I reading too much into the lyrics? Could what I once thought was a ballad about an inept ranch hand turn out to be about wimp struggling with his sexuality? I should have guessed as much since the title of the song was The Lavender Cowboy who died with "only two hairs on his chest." This had to mean that he was gay... Or, Chinese...

But how could a song such as Wee Cooper O'Fife get past the censors? I have a hard time believing that generations upon generations of Scottish children listened to and sang this song, accepting its Punch and Judy storyline in which a frustrated husband resorts to beating his snooty wife. It's not something you want your children to mimic, laugh at or sing about. Oddly enough Burl Ives' rendition doesn't include the lyrics in which the threatened wife swears to change:

Oh I will card and I will spin
And think nae mair of my gentle kin!
Oh, I will wash and I will wring
And think nae mair o' my gowden ring
Oh, I will bake and I will brew
And think nae mair o' my comely hue
She drew the table and spread the board
And "My dear husband" was every word.

Anyway, who needs to get on the moral high horse to ban rap music and its profession of violent misogyny? We should start with our own children's music...

S is for Spit

2005-03-13T13:03:00.000-05:00

As I watch our boys grow up, I wonder what I will remember of them in the years to come. Hopefully, the painful times will fade away, but not at the expense of mundane though precious moments. Like watching Ethan brush his teeth. Ethan never forgets to brush his teeth - partially because he hates the dentist - but I don't want to forget how he does it: First he stores up gobs of toothpaste foam until dribbling. Before the cup of his mouth overfloweth, he quickly slurps everything back before throwing his head forward with one big whale spout of spit gushing out into the sink. He's always had a fascination with spit as you can see in this video.

I also wonder: Will he look upon me with as much affection 30-40 years from now when I have spit trickling down my chin? See n Say...

O is for Opiate

2005-03-05T19:26:00.000-05:00

When Karl Marx wrote that religion was the opiate of the masses, I bet he never roasted a chicken. For Christmas, Carolyn and I got ourselves a George Foreman rotisserie which came gratis with the higher profile grill. As great a kitchen appliance as it is - easy to use, energy saving, calorie reducing, fits on your countertop - I have found it absolutely mesmerizing. A 2-pound chicken takes a couple of hours to roast, but instead of using that time wisely reading my children a story, finish my taxes or muse over my strategy for peace in the Middle East, I was inextricably drawn to the spinning poultry. It wasn't a Pavlovian response in anticipation of dinner. Rather, the rotisserie has a hypnotic effect. Could it be simply the revolving spit? Was it the gentle hum of the electric motor? Or the tender emanating warmth? I don't know. Try it at home to See n Say. Hey, if everyone had a rotisserie maybe we would have world peace...

C is for Chess

2005-03-01T19:09:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, Stuart joined his school-sponsored chess tournament. Kids from all over the county came. In preparation, Stuart and I trained for a couple of weeks on his GameBoy Dexter's Chess practicing moves and strategies and it paid off: Stuart won 3 out of 5 matches. If he had gotten just another draw - a tied game - he would have medalled with an outside possibility of third place. I was so proud of him. If he were to commit to the game, he has potential to be pretty good. We'll see n say...

The only disappointment I had was that I wasn't able to watch Stuart compete as no parent was allowed in the playing area. After the introductions (which I recorded on my digital camera), we were shooed out to a waiting room where our kids would come every hour or so to report on their progress. It's weird to think that out of all the activities in which a child can participate - sports, choir, orchestra - chess is the only one in which parents are barred from attending. Stuart tells me that the players are isolated as to prevent their parents from cheating: A tug of an ear lobe or a throaty cough could well be codes for QxB!, R-H8, checkmate.

I suppose there are chess moms and dads out there who want to see their children win at any cost. It's a shame that their indiscretions have made us all lose out on the experience.

D is for Duty

2005-02-27T23:07:00.001-05:00

Please don't interprete this blog as Bush bashing. I struggle with his politics, but I admire his courage and convictions. Yes, I did vote for him this past election and it was with great anticipation that I tuned in to the State of the Union address. Unfortunately, I am easily distracted. As much as his Texas drawl gives our president a down-to-earth folksy quality, his pronunciation leaves much to be desired falling well short of the dignity and gravitas required in these affairs of state. I was tracking pretty well with him until he said the "D" word - duty. But what it sounded like was "doodie." Twice.

Bush: All these proposals are essential to expand this economy and add new jobs, but they are just the beginning of our duty.
What I started thinking about: What my doctor asked me the time I went in for hemorrhoids - Does it hurt after or just at the beginning of your doodie?

Bush: Because courts must always deliver impartial justice, judges have a duty to faithfully interpret the law, not legislate from the bench.
What I couldn't help thinking: Supreme Court justices Rehnquist, etal. on the, hmmmm... docket...

You can hear the offending phrases in these audio clips from the speech. I noticed that the president uses this word a lot lately. Let's hope he never has to talk about the work of Russia's president - "Putin's following his duty." See n Say.

W is for Work

2005-02-25T12:22:00.000-05:00

Now that I'm not pastoring at the Raleigh Chinese Christian Church, I'm working with Venture Graphics, Inc. which specializes in architectural illustration. I'm really blessed that the company hired me even though I have virtually no experience in graphics outside of being the brother to a fine arts major. I've put together a little video showing the basic steps of architectural graphics, so you can see what we do.

I have no false pretensions that I am good or will be ever really good at this work, but the software and techniques are simple enough even for me. Should I be so bold to say that it is simple enough that anyone can do it? I hope so. VGI is not just a Christian company, but it is one that has a Christian mission: We're hoping to train up missionaries in architectural illustration so that they can use the skills for gainful employment in unevangelized countries. No only that, but VGI will "outsource" our work to the missionary out on the field. We've been in discussion with a pastor who would like to serve as a missionary in Shanghai. We do hope to have him there in a couple of years time. See n Say.

R is for Redneck

2005-02-22T19:18:00.000-05:00

Carolyn and I don't necessarily expect our boys to tread our same life path, but why must they go down that road we fear? Yes, in spite of their Asian-American heritage and upper middle class upbringing, there is a distinct possibility that Stuart and Ethan may - God have mercy on us - be rednecks. It breaks my heart that they may someday become yellow trash: I see them sitting in front of a mobile home drinking Buds, bantering indiscriminately over Republican ideologies until their wives call them in for dinner - probably sweet and sour pork over fried rice with an egg roll. Someone will be mad that they are one fortune cookie short. He will storm away in his pickup truck to the nearest bar for shots of Jack Daniels and get arrested for DUI.

At that time, when we bail them out of jail, Carolyn and I will chart their cultural descent back to Stuart's 10th birthday when he asked us to take him, Ethan and their cousins to a monster truck show. Can we avert their devolution and turn them on to Shakespeare and sushi? See n Say.