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Moving on Up

One year ago today, we started the move to our new home. It was only half a mile away, on the same street even. However, a move is a move is a move.

Lost (in Space) Memories

Netflix is running teasers for their new series, Lost in Space, which is being released next week. It is, of course, an update of the ‘60’s series, Lost in Space. The teasers don’t show enough for me to form an opinion, yet I can’t help but be intrigued. The original series was my first introduction to science fiction, so I have it to thank (or blame) for me becoming a sci-fi nerd. I think I was five the first time my mom let me watch it, and I was instantly hooked. That was in 1972, when I was still too young for the more mature themed Star Trek. It was also five years before the pop culture tsunami known as Star Wars hit the theaters in May 1977, right at the end of the school year.

When I returned to school that fall, it seemed everyone was talking about Star Wars. Amazingly, I hadn’t seen it yet. My mother didn’t let me finally see it until when it was re-released into theaters the following summer. We went to the General Cinema theater at Red Bird Mall. I still remember coming back to our home in Oak Cliff and struggling to re-acclimate myself to life in the “real world.” I don’t think Lost in Space ever looked quite the same again.

It’s funny what kinds of things divide or unite people. I have an uncle who almost brags that he has never seen “one of them star war movies,” which basically means any science fiction of any kind. The same goes for my father. It’s one of the ways that we are so utterly different and makes our relationship awkward and frustrating at times. One of the few times he saw me watching Star Trek, he declared to my mom that I shouldn’t be watching that because, (paraphrasing) “That guy with pointy ears looks likes the devil.” She ignored him.

One year at my private church school, we had some speaker who was supposedly an expert on satanic references in rock music and movies. For a while, it seemed I could hardly mention any TV show or movie I liked without someone proclaiming, “That’s satanic.” It did cause me much concern for a long time. What I’ve come to conclude, correctly or not, is that Christians don’t have to be wholly illiterate of the culture around us, but it doesn’t mean we have to accept every worldview.

A friend told me that back in high school, we went to see Star Trek II together, and that is why she got into Star Trek. Oddly, I don’t remember that, so I have to take her word for it. Fortunately for her husband Mark, he’s also into Star Trek, so I apparently did him a favor.

Having a degree in physics can be a hindrance to enjoying science fiction, especially when it’s at the fringes of fantasy. Faster-than-light travel is mostly wishful thinking, along with gravity field generators, inertial dampers, and assorted other plot device technobabble. I often have to work to overlook the fact that the ships in the Star Wars films frequently move more like fighter planes than spaceships, and they routinely perform maneuvers that would kill everyone inside.

My latest sci-fi addiction has been The Expanse, both the books and the TV series, which has won a lot of acclaim for making a serious effort at getting the physics right and for plausibly depicting what life would be like if we ever do begin to colonize places in the solar system like Mars, the asteroids, and the outer planet moons. They even reasonably depict the potential health consequences of living in reduced gravity, perhaps too well. It turns out Earth is a really great place to live after all. It’s very likely there’s nowhere else like it in the entire universe.

What I’ve seen of the new Netflix version of Lost in Space doesn’t suggest that it will try as hard as The Expanse at getting the science right. Will I still watch it? Yes, most likely, for old time’s sake if nothing else.

Yearbook Note

This morning, I was flipping through my ’83 yearbook, looking for a photo to post, when I came across a note from a classmate. It caught my attention for several reasons: I didn’t remember seeing it before, it was in an unusual spot, it was surprisingly lengthy, and it was from one of several long-time classmates who didn’t return the next year (our junior year). This was probably the last thing they ever wrote in any of my yearbooks. Since then, I think I’ve seen them in person maybe four times in 35 years.
My takeaways from this:
  1. Don’t take anyone for granted.
  2. Value every moment, because the world can change suddenly.
  3. God is the one constant in the universe.

Number Our Days

“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” – Psalms‬ ‭90:12‬ ‭ESV‬‬

http://bible.com/59/psa.90.12.esv

My mom has been gone for 13 years as of today. No, I’m not moping around over it, just reflecting.

In March 2005, I was 37 and she was 61. It’s sobering to realize that I’m beyond the midpoint between the age I was then and the age she was then.

Time is an inescapable function of our existence. According to Einstein’s relativity theory, time is a dimension of this universe just as much as the three dimensions of space. According to additional theories, time came into existence at the creation of the universe. If God created time, he must necessarily exist in a realm beyond time as we grasp it.

Unlike the spatial dimensions, we can’t move backward on the line of time, or even slow down. We often reminisce fondly over the past because it truly is past. We can’t go back to it. We can only remember it, and hopefully we remember it accurately.

Time refuses to stand still for us. Its relentless forward advance can be frightening. Yet God apparently created time as it works in this universe specifically for us.

I love the idea that ultimately God offers the promise of an existence with unlimited time. I long to be in a place where I can read any book, learn any new skill, or just be with any friend. For now, though, we still have to deal with the fact that in this world, time is a finite, constantly diminishing resource for each of us. We don’t even know how much of it we each have.

Let us commit to use it wisely.

Pushing People Higher

“And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” – Hebrews 10:24-25 ESV

Monday evening at my Toastmasters club, I was describing to a first-time guest our process for evaluating prepared speakers. “Oh,” she asked, “so you tell them what was good and what was bad about their speech?”

Actually, what we try to do is tell the speaker what they did really well, then suggest ways that they can make the speech even better the next time they give it.

The key is to have a positive, constructive focus. For many new speakers, they have already achieved a personal victory by standing up in front of an audience and delivering a speech at all. Can they improve it? Sure. We can deliver that as good news, however, not as, “Here’s what you did wrong.” Rather, offer helpful suggestions.

“Try to make eye contact with audience members.”

“Be sure your voice reaches the back of the room.”

“Your opening story was powerful. Bring us back to it in your closing.”

Every day is full of opportunities to “stir up one another to love and good works.” Those seemingly small ones are just as important as the big ones. You probably won’t have to save the world today. You do have unlimited ways to speak into someone else’s life. Look for them. Many are hiding in plain sight.

A Christmas Memory

When I was little, the home base for both sides of my family was Leon County in East Texas. My mom’s family lived in Buffalo, and my dad’s father and stepmother lived in Oakwood. However, most of my great-grandparents were still alive as well. Holidays, especially Christmas, could be a little crazy because we had family visits to make all over Leon County. We spent a lot of time whizzing up and down little country roads, going to places that seemed for a kid from Dallas like the absolute middle of nowhere.

The Christmas when I was five was even crazier than usual, plus a little surreal.

My great-grandparents, David and Mamie Richmond, lived in the unincorporated farming community of Sand Flat along Farm-to-Market Road 542, three miles west of the Trinity River and about four miles southeast of Oakwood, the nearest town of any size. My branch of the Richmond family settled in that area sometime in the 1870’s. David William Richmond, my great-grandfather, was born in 1895 and was 72 when I was born in 1967. By the way, yes, I’m named for him (my middle name, Glenn, comes from my grandfather, Glenn Edward Richmond).

It was a typical little two-bedroom country house with a porch taking up the left side of the front and the living room on the right. The door most visible from the road was to the front bedroom. Despite being a small house, they had raised a large family in it. There was an open field behind it and woods behind that.

Forty-five years ago, on Saturday, December 23, 1972, my great-grandfather went hunting with one of his grandsons at a deer lease near their home. While sitting in a deer blind, he fell over and died. According to my dad, we were staying with my mom’s parents in Buffalo at the time. Since the families all knew each other, the call to my dad informing him of his grandfather’s death came there.

Being five, I didn’t really know any of this at the time. I just know that we went to their little country house on Christmas Eve where I had been numerous times before for holidays and family gatherings. This time, though, when we opened the living room door from the porch, it seemed from my three-foot-tall vantage point that the little living room was packed with family members who were staring down into some sort of large box by the front window. I had no time to process this scene as my mother hurriedly ushered me into the bedroom which was also full of people, including my great-grandmother who was sitting and crying.

I believe that I understood as well as any five-year-old probably can that he had died, but I didn’t understand until later that it was his body in a casket in the living room where the family members were gathered. Dealing with a departed family member in that fashion seems really foreign to us now, but that’s how it used to be done out in the country for generations.

I don’t remember the funeral, which was in a small Baptist church up the road. They probably didn’t take me.

That was my first experience with death, and it occurred at the very same time we were also celebrating Christmas, making for a confusing combination of sights for a five-year-old kid’s mind to process. Fortunately, it didn’t permanently scar my perception of Christmas. It did, however, create a rather surreal image in my collection of childhood memories, one that has been with me for forty-five years.

Snow Days

My wife asked last night if I was bringing home my work computer in case of inclement weather. I didn’t, because I knew from the forecast that the likelihood of snow was very low, and I didn’t want to have to haul it back in the morning.

Remember when one of the best things that could happen during the winter months was a snow day?

Remember waking up to the sight of white everywhere outside and the sound of school closure listings coming from the radio? The name of my school never seemed so beautiful as it did when it was coming out of that radio speaker.

Being Texas, it didn’t happen often, which made it glorious when it did.

Now, if there is a genuine weather warning, my manager sends an email telling everyone to plan on working from home. It’s the double edged sword of technology.