This isn’t too shabby for a player who hasn’t yet played a day in the Majors. Stephen Stasberg card on eBay.
Archive for May, 2010
I don’t own one, but still I pine for a day when the iPad will have the capabilities to print directly to a printer. Until then, there is high-tech solution:
“Paul Revere is famous for his ride. He’s essential for so much more.” Joel Miller’s book, The Revolutionary Paul Revere, amazed me and annoyed me.
First, this book was a great idea. It’s as much about the American Revolution as it is Paul Revere, but it gives the story and sequence of the events of the American Revolution as seen from Revere’s eyes, and I have never read a non-fiction work on this era like this. It is astounding to see how vast the breadth of Revere’s touch was. Revere is mostly famous for his “Redcoats are coming” ride and perhaps for silversmithing, but every bit of his life was more interesting and hands-on than you could have known. Revere was a brazen and brave leader amongst the Patriots. He was ingenious and productive. He was deep and broad in his skill and passion. He was hands-on in building some of the amazing and lasting works of that era (including the USS Constitution, which would not have survived so long if not for Paul’s quality work keeping it held together).
My grievances are small, but I was disconcerted that Mr. Miller repeatedly used a rather flippant, modern jargon to apply to the matters at hand. Word choices that pulled us out of the time period to our modern one. I noted it 17 times and may have given grace to others. Thankfully, they were top-heavy at the front of the book so I was less put-out as I went along. In telling of a general being killed in action, Miller said he “bought it.” In describing how Revere and his first wife met, he employed the informal “became an item.” When the stores were not allowed to sell, they were, “on ice.” The technique doesn’t make it unreadable, it just lops off some of the import that Revere and his important work conveyed.
I really liked the idea of one-word chapter titles, but the introductions to each chapter, “In which our hero…” were a little weird: by which I mean, it’s something I would do if I were an author and something I’m sure I would take flak for doing.
Revere is a hero worth knowing more about. This is a good place to start.
Joy in parenting is a gift of God. It doesn’t come naturally. It’s not the product of the flesh. Wherever you find a joyful Mom, you can be sure you’re seeing the Spirit at work.
What can we do to ensure that our families bear this fruit? First, cultivate thankfulness. Instead of laughter, some homes, including Christian ones, are dominated by shouting. Instead of the fullness of joy, some experience the fullness of bitterness and resentment. Ingratitude is at the root of many an angry, joyless home.
The rest of the article.
It’s been two weeks. It’s still pretty amazing to see.
I’m sorry for the wait. Enjoy.
No other success in life–not being President, or being wealthy, or going to college, or anything else–comes up to the success of the man and woman who feel they have done their duty and that their children and grandchildren rise up to call them blessed.
I like Facebook. I use it every day to actively and purposely promote my worldview–really. You can befriend me here if you like. (If you would like to de-friend me, you can do that here perhaps.) But the fact is, with all it’s benefits, Facebook is starting to go to far, and someday, something will likely likely replace it [and if you're a geek, I'll say parenthetically that I hope the new place is open-source--even though I didn't use parentheses].
There are lots of great things Facebook is doing behind the scenes. I really like the connections between companies, in fact. But Facebook is facing a brewing rebellion. Complicating things like this is one of their sick symptoms.
You can view the chart better here.
I haven’t kept up with it, but I know many of you do. Here is some clarification I found to help you gauge your Lost experience.
But in real time, TBAP turns 4 today. No themed-cakes or ice-cream shooters. No sparklers. No rigmarole. Not even a photo to pull you into the surrealism.
Thanks for taking the ride with me; it’s been a hoot.
When I read church history and read the biographies of great Christians I see how common it is for godly men to disagree on issues even as fundamental as predestination and free will. Having a perspective on these issues that is two thousand years wide is much more valuable than having a perspective that spans only a few years or a handful of books. Even when dealing with difficult issues, it is important that we display the kind of humility that Wesley forsook. We need to understand that greater Christians than ourselves wrestled with these issues and often came to differing conclusions, whether the topic is the doctrines of grace, the end times, the meaning and mode of baptism, and so on. We are so blinded by our sin and our corrupted powers of reasoning that we will never know the truth exhaustively. Studying the history of the church helps keep us grounded, showing that there is bound to be disagreement and hopefully showing how we can work together for the sake of Christ and his gospel despite such disagreement.
This is most of the concluding paragraph in a posting you should read entirely.
This portion Spurgeon’s autobiography pressed hard on me for a good, long time during my college years. I had it memorized and was pretty stirred by it. I think I need to stir me up again. [This would read better broken into paragraphs, but I'm just going to pull it straight from the original source and let you press your mind to it more fully.]
There was a day, as I took my walks abroad, when I came hard by a spot for ever engraven upon my memory, for there I saw this Friend, my best, my only Friend, murdered. I stooped down in sad affright, and looked at Him. I saw that His hands had been pierced with rough iron nails, and His feet had been rent in the same way. There was misery in His dead countenance so terrible that I scarcely dared to look upon it. His body was emaciated with hunger, His back was red with bloody scourges, and His brow had a circle of wounds about it: clearly could one see that these had been pierced by thorns. I shuddered, for I had known this Friend full well. He never had a fault; He was the purest of the pure, the holiest of the holy. Who could have injured Him? For He never injured any man: all His life long He “went about doing good;” He had healed the sick, He had fed the hungry, He had raised the dead: for which of these works did they kill Him? He had never breathed out anything else but love; and as I looked into the poor sorrowful face, so full of agony, and yet so full of love, I wondered who could have been a wretch so vile as to pierce hands like His. I said within myself, “Where can these traitors live? Who are these that could have smitten such an One as this? Had they murdered an oppressor, we might have forgiven them; had they slain one who had indulged in vice or villainy, it might have been his desert; had it been a murderer and a rebel, or one who had committed sedition, we would have said, “Bury his corpse: justice has at last given him his due.” But when Thou wast slain, my best, my only-beloved, where lodged the traitors? Let me seize them, and they shall be put to death. If there be torments that I can devise, surely they shall endure them all. Oh! what jealousy; what revenge I felt! If I might but find these murderers, what would I not do with them! And as I looked upon that corpse, I heard a footstep, and wondered where it was. I listened, and I clearly perceived that the murderer was close at hand. It was dark, and I groped about to find him. I found that, somehow or other, wherever I put out my hand, I could not meet with him, for he was nearer to me than my hand would go. At last I put my hand upon my breast. “I have thee now,” said I; for lo! he was in my own heart; the murderer was hiding within my own bosom, dwelling in the recesses of my inmost soul. Ah! then I wept indeed, that I, in the very presence of my murdered Master, should be harbouring the murderer; and I felt myself most guilty while I bowed over His corpse, and sang that plaintive hymn,—
“‘Twas you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.”
You can request a free copy of Radical Question by David Platt here.
The 19th perfect game in the 141-year history of MLB was thrown on Sunday.
Here’s a cute exchange between Stephanopolous and Ahmadinejad. He’s such a fun kidder.
First this shows it all:
Then this shows it better:
On this date in 1937, the zepplin Hindenburg was getting ready to land in NJ, after a long trip across the Atlantic. It was an inglorious day.
This Dodgers fan has videotaped himself catching two homerun balls off the same Pirates hitter!
The matter isn’t too important to me, even with an iPhone, but I did find Steve Jobs comments on the topic interesting.
Here is a photo-tour of the 20 most expensive homes for sale in Nashville (pre-flood). #20 is Alan Jackson’s. Little too far south for me, though.
I’m a fan of Netflix. If you follow this link, you can try it free for a month. The code expires 6/15, and if it doesn’t work for you, I can forward you the offer by email.
Ernie was scheduled to accept the Vin Scully Lifetime Achievement Award in Sports Broadcasting tonight. Al Kaline will accept the award on his behalf.
Here Ernie sits with Bob Costas and recites a portion of his Hall of Fame Speech in which he offers his own definition of baseball.
And here are two really good tributes that were posted in today’s papers in Michigan:
It seems bizarre that no one seems to be aware that we just experienced what is quite possibly the costliest non-hurricane disaster in American history.
Read: We are Nashville
And then here is Keith Olbermann trying to call attention to the matter on Countdown.
The first-graders needed to see this video this morning to see what it must have looked like in Pa Ingall’s parents’ house that night of the dance (from Little House in the Big Woods) as Pa was calling out figures from the fiddle.
I appreciate the video being available so I didn’t need to try to describe this.
At least I didn’t show them this. That would have ruined them.
The national media is loving on Ernie Harwell’s legacy this morning. Even NPR made some great comments at the top of the 6a hour. Here are some classic calls from a great broadcaster:
Education is a complex transfer of the habits, customs, rituals, sayings, stories, values, morals, songs, and jokes of the teacher to the students until the students are walking around looking, sounding, and acting like their teacher.
Read the rest of this wonderful article from Credenda/Agenda on Learning to Teach