The Night Writer http://thenightwriterblog.powerblogs.com/ Illuminating fun, faith, family and foolishness. en-us 2009-05-10T18:05+00:00 From the mouth of a babe http://thenightwriterblog.powerblogs.com/posts/1241980658.shtml ... The Night Writer 2009-05-10T18:05+00:00 "Guns don't kill people. Dads with pretty daughters kill people."

— Tiger Lilly
]]> Homeward Bound http://thenightwriterblog.powerblogs.com/posts/1241070177.shtml My grandmother, Elizabeth "Lizey" Burleson Stewart Ray, passed away Wednesday morning in her sleep at 101 years of age, just a couple of months shy of making it to 102. I... The Night Writer 2009-04-30T05:04+00:00
She'd been that way for quite some time but had been livelier of late and more interactive, probably due to a change in her medication. This was a good thing but also raised a tough question for the family about what to say if she asked where my father — who died more than a year ago — was. It was decided we'd just say "Oh, he's home, Lizey" and let it go at that. She'd been devastated when her oldest son died several years ago and no one thought it would do any good to tell her about her youngest boy.

We seldom lived near each other for most of my childhood. We'd see her a couple of times a year, usually, and a couple of summers we stayed with her at her lake place where my great-uncle Harvey would take us fishing out in his boat and tell us stories about the mischief my father and his brothers used to get into — almost all of which would end with Grandma's stern intervention. When I got older we talked more, especially after I got married and had kids of my own. Her faith was very important to her, and when we'd visit we could talk about her life and what it was like raising those four boys and two girls. I remember one time she told about the oldest boy getting very ill and having to go to the hospital; about how worried she was and how much she prayed; and how, when she walked out into the corridor outside his room she saw an angel and knew everything was going to be fine.

This morning I thought about that and of the time the family put on a big bash for her 85th birthday. There was a quite a crowd, even with accounting for her children, the 17 grandchildren and I don't know how many great-grandchildren. She had a lot to be proud of, and she was pretty pleased. I still remember her telling me, though, "So many of my friends have already gone home to be with the Lord. And they're probably wondering what happened to me!"

I'm sure they've been having a grand time getting caught up.

If we really think that home is elsewhere and that this life is a “wandering to find home,” why should we not look forward to the arrival?
— C.S. Lewis



]]> Counting down http://thenightwriterblog.powerblogs.com/posts/1240951129.shtml ... The Night Writer 2009-04-28T23:04+00:00 If you see any references to a count-down here on this blog or on certain others it is all in relation to this:

Shivaree
Dictionary: shiv·a·ree (shĭv'ə-rē', shĭv'ə-rē')

n. Midwestern & Western U.S.
A noisy mock serenade for newlyweds. Also called regionally charivari, belling; Also called horning, serenade.

[Alteration of CHARIVARI.]

REGIONAL NOTE Shivaree is the most common American regional form of charivari, a French word meaning “a noisy mock serenade for newlyweds” and probably deriving in turn from a Late Latin word meaning “headache.” The term, most likely borrowed from French traders and settlers along the Mississippi River, was well established in the United States by 1805; an account dating from that year describes a shivaree in New Orleans: “The house is mobbed by thousands of the people of the town, vociferating and shouting with loud acclaim.... [M]any [are] in disguises and masks; and all have some kind of discordant and noisy music, such as old kettles, and shovels, and tongs.... All civil authority and rule seems laid aside” (John F. Watson). The word shivaree is especially common along and west of the Mississippi River. Its use thus forms a dialect boundary running north-south, dividing western usage from eastern. This is unusual in that most dialect boundaries run east-west, dividing the country into northern and southern dialect regions. Some regional equivalents are belling, used in Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, Indiana, and Michigan; horning, from upstate New York, northern Pennsylvania, and western New England; and serenade, a term used chiefly in the South Atlantic states.

Oh, and the count-down is at 26. ]]> Tiger Lilly's gift http://thenightwriterblog.powerblogs.com/posts/1238790750.shtml ... The Night Writer 2009-04-03T20:04+00:00 For my birthday today Tiger Lilly gave me a writing assignment that she completed from her writer's exercise book, 3 a.m. Epiphany by Brian Kitely. It read:

This was an exercise in The 3 a.m. Epiphany that I thought would be interesting to do. The exercise was to take a phrase or saying (preferably one with a large variety of words in it) and form 15 sentences out of that saying. The words needed to adhere around a character in a situation that seems related to (but necessarily a response to) the author's original sentence. I managed to get a slightly silly pointless deep, meaningful story out of it. I used the following quote:

Two roads diverged in a wood and I,
I took the road less traveled by;
And that made all the difference.
— Robert Frost

I traveled by two roads.
I traveled in a wood.
Two roads traveled in a wood.
A difference in the wood made the roads diverge.
The two roads diverged.
The roads made all the difference.
I diverged in the wood.
I took the road less traveled by.
I made all the difference.
I traveled less in the wood.
The road and I diverged.
I took the difference and made the road that made the difference.
I made the road diverge in a wood.
The road and I diverged.
And that made all the difference.

Tiger Lilly's present reminded me of Peter Gabriel singing "The Book of Love." In turn I'll modify one of the lines in that song to say:

And you, you can write me anything.



]]> Fighting with Tiger Lilly http://thenightwriterblog.powerblogs.com/posts/1236466928.shtml ... The Night Writer 2009-03-07T23:03+00:00 I cashed in some of my Best Buy Reward Zone points recently and picked up a couple of classic Xbox games — Halo and Halo 2. Tiger Lilly and I enjoy gaming together and these games have been a lot of fun. I can't help but notice some differences in our styles of combat, however.

For example, in my other gaming I typically play the WWII "Brothers in Arms" series. These games pride themselves on being realistic, so there are no health packs and "level ups" to be found. As such, I've learned to move carefully and to peek around corners to keep myself and my squad alive and it's a hard habit to break. TL on the other hand goes charging off in the direction of enemies as soon as they pop up on the tactical display, typically wreaking carnage with an occasional, "Whoops, I died." Her eyes and reflexes are also sharper than mine, so as she's blowing Covenant and Flood to pieces she's also scooping up useful debris before I even see it. "Cool — a rocket launcher!" or "Whoa, sentinel beam!" are usually my first clue that valuable items arewere for the picking.

She's also liable to run out of the range of my HUD so that I lose track of her in a melee. My most common utterance when we're playing is, "Okay, now where are you?" This usually results in her making her character (and its green overhead triangle) jump up and down until I can draw a bead on her. Either that or I simply follow the trail of body parts she's left in her wake. Nevertheless, we're getting pretty good at working in tandem, flanking enemies and alerting the other when we're throwing a plasma grenade, and she hardly ever runs in front of my sniper rifle any more.

It does feel a little odd serving as wingman for a 15-year-old, and I suppose there are more edifying things I could be doing with her other than burning a few hours a week saving humankind. I figure it doesn't hurt, though, to let her know I've got her back. And that — wingman or not — I am the Master Chief.

]]> Long cool woman in a black dress http://thenightwriterblog.powerblogs.com/posts/1233294957.shtml With Valentine's Day coming up I thought I'd give you less romantic guys out there a good suggestion for a Valentine's Day gift for your significant other. (I know, I know,... The Night Writer 2009-01-30T05:01+00:00 "Da-yum, that guy has just got to have some romantic secrets!") Anyway, here's what I did for my wife for last Valentine's Day (take notes, kids): I recorded a CD for her!

No, not me singing. She may put up with a lot, but me singing goes way beyond "till death do you part" for her. Instead I used my iTunes account to hunt down and burn a CD of special songs that all described her (or the two of us together in some way). To give you a flavor of how this works, here are the songs I recorded (don't try these at home, you've got to come up with your own songlist).

The title of the CD was Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress by The Hollies. In this particular case there isn't much about the song that describes my wife except the title: she's long, she's cool and she wears black. A lot.

The first song is Oh, Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison. An easy and obvious intro that's "pretty" fitting, but the particular lyric in this song that best describes my feelings is when Roy goes, Growwwwl. Mercy!

Another song is Dream Weaver by Gary Wright. You see, my wife gets prophetic dreams a lot. Not really the "see the future" type dreams, but dreams God gives her that tell what is going on in someone else's life (so she can pray or know how to minister) or a sign in her own life. Unlike regular dreams that she forgets immediately, when she has a "God Dream" it's very detailed and sticks with her until she writes it down.

Pretty women out walking with gorillas down my street... Is She Really Going Out With Him? by Joe Jackson. Yeah, she is. What of it? (I told you earlier, big secrets of romance).

I also put Travelin' Prayer by Billy Joel on there. This one is included because of all the times she's traveled abroad on missions trips, whether the Philippines (twice), China or Romania while I'm back at home thinking, Hey Lord, take a look all around tonight and find where my baby's gonna be; Hey Lord, would ya look out for her tonight 'Cause she is far across the sea; Hey Lord, would ya look out for her tonight; And make sure that she's gonna be alright; And things are gonna be alright with me. There's even a line in there about making sure all her dreams are sweet!

Another song that has great personal significance is Seven Bridges Road by the Eagles. One day when we'd been dating for about three months we took an autumn day trip up to Duluth, MN and the North Shore. There's a road that leads up away from Duluth and Lake Superior known by my wife as "The Road to Seven Bridges." It cuts through the forest and over streams (and seven bridges) and you see a lot of beautiful scenery and finally you can look down on the city and the lake like a panorama. It was a great day and that night when we got back to town I asked her to marry me — and she said yes and did so about a year later!

The next song really ties in with the previous one, but I didn't realize it until just now. It's Unbelievable by Diamond Rio, which, as just occurred to me, has the lyric: She's so elegant, intelligent, heaven sent, all my money spent; I put a big down payment on that itty bitty diamond ring. The part I like best is that She's so kissable, huggable, lovable, unbelievable!

Despite what you might think of a guy who proposes after just three months, I tend to over-think and over-analyze things. Think Too Much by Paul Simon was on the cassette we listened to driving back from Duluth as faith and reason tumbled over and over in my head as Paul sang "Maybe I think too much for my own good; Some people say so; Other people say no no; The fact is You don't think as much as you could," and Paul and I both said, "Hmmmm."

Back when we first fell in love I would have walked 500 miles and then walked 500 more just so I could be the man who walked 1000 miles fell down at her door. Yes, The Proclaimers and I'm Gonna Be (500 miles), assuring her that When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you; And when I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream; I'm gonna Dream about the time when I'm with you. More dreams! I'd still walk that far, but it would take so long these days that I'm not sure she'd wait for me.

The next song on the CD is You Sexy Thing by Hot Chocolate, and that's all I'm going to say about that. Except...I believe in miracles!

If you love a woman, you'll do anything for her. Climb the highest mountain, swim the deepest sea, fight a grizzly bear, let her have the last doughnut, etc. You'll even, when you know she's a Barry Manilow fan, download Barry's version of Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You, even though you know it's going to go on your permanent record somewhere.

My favorite song on the CD is She by Elvis Costello, from the Notting Hill soundtrack. It's a love song not burdened or blinded by sentimentality but all the truer for the deep realization that this is it for you: Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears; And make them all my souvenirs; For where she goes I've got to be; The meaning of my life is...She.



What better way to wrap things up but with Joe Cocker singing You Are So Beautiful:

You are so beautiful to me
You are so beautiful to me
Can't you see
Your everything I hoped for
Your everything I need
You are so beautiful to me

Such joy and happiness you bring
Such joy and happiness you bring
Like a dream
A guiding light that shines in the night
Heavens gift to me
You are so beautiful to me

School's out, I think I hear my wife calling me.
]]> Escalation http://thenightwriterblog.powerblogs.com/posts/1230439691.shtml ... The Night Writer 2008-12-29T01:12+00:00 So we come home from church the Sunday before Christmas and Boy #1 is standing out in the street in the sub-zero cold, waiting for us. Tiger Lilly is pleased; dad is more ambivalent. Nevertheless, we bring the frozen dude-sicle in for lunch and it looks as if he's going to stay for awhile. The Mall Diva, Ben and I have plans, however, to go out and shoot the new .45; fortunately the Reverend Mother is now home as well to keep an eye on things — and it doesn't hurt for me to make a big show of packing up the gun as we get ready to leave.

While we're at the range, Boy #2 shows up as well. Boy #1 and Boy #2 proceed to try and kill each other — on the x-box, however. The delighted Tiger Lilly tries to kill them as well. (That's my girl!) Eventually it's time for Boy #1 to go home and the Reverend Mother graciously offers to drive him since it's still arctic-like outside. Tiger Lilly goes along, of course, while Boy #2 waits for them to return. He's sitting patiently in the kitchen by himself when the Diva, Ben and I return. Ok, when I left Boy #1 was at the house and now it's Boy #2; I don't even bat an eye. I greet him and then let everyone know I'm going downstairs to clean the GUN. An uneventful afternoon follows.


"Boys? What boys? I don't see any boys."


Still, I don't know if I'm ready to have boys stacked up around the house like airplanes circling O'Hare during the holiday rush. I've already been through the drill with just one guy, thanks to the assistance of Haggar slacks. If there's going to be two or even more boys, however, it may be time to escalate. Fortunately, I was exchanging a sweater for my wife at Macy's after Christmas and passed through the Men's Department. Lo and behold, Haggar cords for $14.50 and dress chinos for $17.50. Usually these cost $38 to $60, depending on the store. I considered the situation and bought three pairs.

Bring it on.




]]> A special day http://thenightwriterblog.powerblogs.com/posts/1228967526.shtml Today is December 11, a date that has come to have special significance in our family. You see, it was on December 11, 1987 that my wife and I discovered we... The Night Writer 2008-12-11T10:12+00:00
No matter what we thought our life was going to be like, it was apparent that there might be another plan that we were unaware of. Fortunately we both more than recovered from the shock and were soon able to begin taking steps — physically, emotionally and especially spiritually — to prepare a path and a future for our unexpected miracle. Some 18 years later in 2005 we were making other plans for another special day, a double-ceremony at our church where my wife would be ordained and we would have a graduation ceremony in commemoration of the Mall Diva's home-school and beauty school graduations. We consulted the family calendars and church schedule for an opportune date and settled on the second Sunday in December. It wasn't until later the following week that I realized that we had had those ceremonies on ... December 11. I thought that was kind of neat at the time, not realizing that something else had happened that day as well.

I had helped a young blogging friend of mine get a job with a guy from our church and I had invited the young man to come with his boss to this special service. Yes, that was the day that Ben, my future son-in-law, first set eyes on the Mall Diva.

I had no idea 21 years ago, or three years ago, where each day's events were ultimately going to lead or what plans God had in mind for us. Nor do I have any idea of what He has yet planned for us. You will understand, however, if I can't help but look forward in trust and anticipation!

]]> What we did for Thanksgiving vacation http://thenightwriterblog.powerblogs.com/posts/1228864439.shtml ... The Night Writer 2008-12-10T04:12+00:00 Last March the Mall Diva, Tiger Lilly and Ben went with me down to Missouri when I bought my dad's truck from my mom. While we were down there we visited my mom's 92-year-old mother, Grammy, at the assisted-living center where she had a small apartment. We ended up sitting in the larger common room that featured a piano and several hymn books. As we visited the Diva and Ben flipped through some of the hymn books and spontaneously sang the ones they recognized. By the end of our visit there were several residents casually sitting in the common room, not-so-casually inclining their ears toward the singers.

Since then my grandmother has moved to a nursing home, one that also cares for my other grandmother, Elizabeth (or "Lizey") who is 101 years old. When Grammy learned we were bringing Ben down for Thanksgiving this year she let it be known that she would be quite the impresario at her new home if Ben and the girls could come and sing hymns again for the group. Not a problem; a time was set for the Friday after Thanksgiving and we even recruited the Diva's best friend and singing partner to come along on the road trip. Once in Missouri one of my nephews joined the choir as well and the youngsters rehearsed about a dozen hymns in and around the feasting on Thursday.

Earlier in the day I had gone to the nursing home with my mother to bring her mom back to the house for the holiday. Her room is right by the large, cheery common room and as we walked through it a man, presumably a preacher, was sermonizing to a group of residents in wheelchairs about how they should be thankful for their infirmities because these were what made them strong. Fortunately for him and the peace of the home he was at the far side of the room because I felt an overwhelming urge to smack him so he'd have something to be thankful for.

24 hours later we had our little choir set up in the same corner of the big room and a group of about two dozen residents arrayed in front of the kids and the electronic piano we'd carried in with us. My part, aside from carrying the piano, was to greet the assembly and introduce the singers and share a little of why we were there, mentioning that my grandmothers were among their fellow residents. I also reminded them that the Bible tells us that God inhabits the praises of his people and what are hymns but praise to God so they shouldn't be surprised or concerned if they felt a presence during the singing.

It was a beautiful performance with everyone in fine voice and I stood to the side and watched the residents smiling and bobbing their heads; some even raised their arms over their heads at times during the music, and a couple of ladies wheeled themselves right up in front of the piano. The hymns were all old standards, "How Great Thou Art," "There is a Fountain," "It Is Well With My Soul" and more. After about 30 minutes I told the group that we were pleased and honored to be before them, and that I was thankful in this week of Thanksgiving for the godly example and prayers that my grandmothers, their neighbors, had sown into my life — even if, at times, it didn't look as if they were having any affect. I also told the gathered men and women that while their bodies might not be as strong as they once were, I knew that their prayers were still as powerful as ever and that our informal choir was going to sing a Christmas song in honor of the one who came that our prayers might find their "yes" in him. I concluded by saying, "When the song is finished, each of the singers and my wife and I will move out among you and if there is anything you want prayer for concerning yourself or your loved ones, we will be happy to pray with you." Then the Mall Diva and her friend sang "Oh Holy Night."

Sometimes when you offer to pray for someone he or she will pull back a little, but from what I saw the group was eager and happy to receive whatever our little group could offer. I know there was no hesitation in the people I prayed with, including a woman who was very emotional over the death of her husband earlier in the week. Similarly, I felt none of my usual self-conciousness as I knelt or stooped by the ones nearest to me, and I certainly had little time for or awareness of the aches and infirmities of my own age, which seemed pretty minor in front of this congregation.

After I'd prayed for three people I saw that our group had reached everyone in the room, and I'd even received a request for the hymn, "Just As I Am". I didn't know the song, but our singers did so they re-gathered and sang that as well. Missing throughout the program, however, was my other grandmother, Lizey. She's pretty much out of it most of the time now and sleeps as if the last century or so has left her worn out, which it likely has. We asked the attendants if it would be okay to go to her room and if the young ones could sing for her even if she was asleep. We were told to go right ahead.

My grandmother was asleep and I was a little anxious to see that her roommate, Wanda, was also asleep, though sitting up in a recliner with an afghan in her lap. Nevertheless my daughters, Ben, Casii and both of my nephews stood close together and softly sang through all the verses of "It Is Well With My Soul." Grandma didn't awake though her face seemed to relax. Meanwhile I was standing closer to Wanda and my mother and I saw her nodding her head and moving her lips during the song, though she never opened her eyes.

It was a great experience to be able to go in and do something like this, and to see the brightness in the eyes of those we ministered to. I confess to a bit of pride, as well, to see the talents and gracious hearts of my daughters who were so willing and ministered so easily.
We enjoyed the rest of the day with my family and drove back to Minnesota on Saturday. Sunday my mother emailed me with the news that Wanda, who had moved her head and lips during the song, had begun to struggle on Saturday and was taken to the hospital. She passed away Sunday morning.

My mother ended her email: "It's a good thought that maybe the last thing she comprehended and responded to was the kids' music."
]]> Proud Poppi http://thenightwriterblog.powerblogs.com/posts/1226359448.shtml ... The Night Writer 2008-11-10T23:11+00:00 Sometimes the girls call me "Poppi". I think it started when we were in Italy a couple of years ago and the phrase, "Gelato, Poppi!" was so cosmopolitan -- and effective. As they have gotten older, calling me Poppi is an affectionate endearment in so many ways that "Great Hairy Thunderer" isn't. And today Poppi is just about popping his buttons.

I wrote last week about the Mall Diva's debut with her friend Casii at The Black Sheep's Open Mic Night. Last night they hit another open stage, this time at the Dunn Brothers coffee shop over on Grand in St. Paul. Whereas the first outing was for teens, the Dunn Bros. stage is a long-standing, bi-weekly event for a pretty much adult audience. There are a lot of Old Folkie types there, including one guy who looked like the ghost of Tom Joad but with even less meat on his bones, and another guy who relished the opportunity to stand on a stage with a guitar and a microphone and drop high-decibel f-bombs -- not because he was outraged, but simply because he enjoyed it, I think. The girls more than held their own, singing the same three songs they sang previously, and engaging the audience which featured a lot of bright, smiling faces and bobbing heads. One guy was even moved to sing along with them as they sang, "It is well, it is well, with my soul."

I remember the first time my wife and I heard the young Diva sing in public. It was for a Christmas program when she was in second grade. Neither her mother or I have a lick of singing ability and we weren't expecting any in our progeny so when Faith told us she had a "solo" we figured she meant a speaking part. Lo and behold -- or should I say, "Hark!" -- she sang! My wife and I were flabbergasted. Never had we dared expect such a blessing! She later showed herself to be a quick study musically as well, once picking out a tune by ear on the piano even before she had had lessons. Later, when she had been taking lessons for a year, she played a recital with such skill and élan that others thought she'd been studying for year. To see her and Casii taking such confident and polished steps on a public stage is nearly enough to make me burst.

But that's not all. As Tiger Lilly posted on Saturday, she just won a short-story writing contest sponsored by the Dakota County libraries. The contest was to write a ghost-story or thriller (the deadline was Halloween) and she took time off from the novel (or novels) she's already writing to knock out something that came to mind. As with her sister, I was stunned with the result.

Stunned, but not surprised, if that's possible. I've given her writing assignments in the past, and we've seen her skills posting here on this blog but those were all things I asked her to write or some inspired silliness for public consumption. True, there were the series of "Larry the Guinea Pig" books she wrote when she was little, and she's let me peak before at some of her work in progress that was pretty impressive, but she didn't let her mother or I see this short story before she turned it in. Naturally, I expected her to win a prize because I figured she could out-write people her age, but when I read her entry after she posted it here I was awed at how skilled and mature her writing was.

If you haven't followed the link from her Saturday post you really need to do so. This is not a cute story that a teen-ager would write with the literary equivalent of "like" and "you know" phrasing or heavy-handed prose and awkward symbolism. The story grabs you from the first, one-sentence paragraph and she shows a lot of writerly techniques in phrasing and repetition that you would expect to see -- if at all -- in an older, more experienced writer. It is also, definitely, a "chiller" which I wouldn't expect from my sweet little angel, but I can definitely pick up on some of the bent from the "Dead Like Me" TV series we've been laughing at lately.

Seeing such a polished, fully-formed story was amazing even with my high expectations for her. It's both exciting and motivating to see this from her. I know she's been pounding away, doing at least 1700 words a day, as part of the National Novel Writing Month event and I figure if she's going to be doing this level of work I'm going to have to raise my own game or cede the writing title in the family to her. Either that or perhaps change the name of this blog to "The Night and Day Writers"!]]>