A Birthday Cause Worth Celebrating

These are the days of miracle and wonder, This is the long distance call. -- lyrics from The Boy in the Bubble written by Paul Simon for the album Graceland.

Today I got an email about an effort to raise money to build wells and provide clean water for people in African countries. That in itself is not so unusual, but the target market was.

Scott Harrison, founder of an organization called Charity:Water decided last year to raise money in honor of his 32nd birthday in September by asking friends and family to donate $32 in lieu of a birthday present for a fund that would help build a well to supply a hospital with clean water, instead of the brown liquid that poured from their taps. The fundraiser was such a success, he decided to do something similar this year on a much bigger scale.

He's targeting everyone born in September to raise funds the same way or donate money to celebrate themselves. Watch the video. I think it's a creative approach, and using viral marketing, he just may be able to reach his goal of funding 333 wells in Ethiopia.

It's an example how one person can make an impact, and how the power of the internet can be harnessed for good. Check it out.

Hamlet 2 Puts on Absurdist Show

Sometimes it takes an absurdist comedy to make you really laugh at life. The film Hamlet 2 gets my vote for comedy of the year for its storyline and the most original song in a fake rock musical -- "Rock Me Sexy Jesus."

The show's fictional musical blend of "Grease" and "Jesus Christ Superstar" is so bad, it's good.

The film relies on lead actor Steve Coogan's hilarious and heart-tugging portrayal of a clueless high school drama teacher whose program has been cut, and who decides to produce his one original musical to try to convince the school to keep him there.

Drawing from key scenes in a host of inspiring teacher films, strange musical hits of the past (anyone ever see "Cats" or "Starlight Express"?) and the sincerity that only a crazy Brit in a bizarre comedic role can project, Coogan pulls off the feat of making us laugh at him and root for him at the same time.

While it has a hint of sex, violence and ranchy language that make it inappropriate for young kids, it's offensive in the way that naughty humor is always offensive. Of course, some people think it's downright blasphemous, but I'd call it a comedy classic that I'd put it in my DVD collection.

Songs Reflect Loss of Vision, Joy

If you've listened to the top 100 songs that young people are listening to these days, they reflect an ennui that's much worse than the restlessness and angst of the grunge music of the early 90s. At least when Nirvana sang about their disaffectation and alienation, they did it with great style. Most of the new bands hardly sound like they're trying. (Image of Coldplay from their Facebook page.)

Recently, when riding in the car and switching around to various radio stations, my husband and I had a conversation about the quality of the music -- both in terms of creativity of sound and lyrics -- and we had to agree the new bands are greatly lacking. Uninspiring. Boring, really.

Okay, so we sound like middle-aged people complaining about those young whippersnappers, but the truth is much of the current pop music, with the exception of dance tunes and love songs, is sad in tone and downbeat in sound. You don't hear the passion or joy or anger that characterized the incredible sounds of the Beatles, Yes, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, the Pretenders, the Police, Alanis Morrisette, Sheryl Crow or even U2 from the '70s to the '90s. Don't even get me started on rap music, which is exploitation music at its worst. Frankly, I believe the radio fare is inferior to what we listened to, which comprised the soundtrack of our youth.

Fortunately, in this iTunes age, you can find whatever it is that you're looking for musically online. Even if they never play it on the radio and it never makes the top 100, you can find some unique music via MySpace, Facebook, YouTube and other means that newcomer bands use to promote themselves. My son used to be amazed when I'd put on a classic rock station and knew the lyrics to all of the songs, until I explained to him that when I was a teenager the same dozen or so songs were played endlessly on the radio for a month. You learned the words by osmosis. His generation will never know what that was like, and maybe that's not a bad thing.

Here's a sample of one of the better lyrics, to be fair, that's a runaway hit by one of the most popular bands of the new millennium. It frankly sounds better as poetry on the page than in actual musical delivery, and I chose it partly because it tries to have a spiritual angle to it. (As it's sung, the lyrics are extremely difficult to interpret.) It's "Viva La Vida" by Coldplay, a band that I just don't get in terms of why people find it so appealing:

I used to rule the world
Seas would rise when I gave the word
Now in the morning I sleep alone
Sweep the streets I used to own

I used to roll the dice
Feel the fear in my enemy's eyes
Listen as the crowd would sing
"Now the old king is dead! Long live the king!"

One minute I held the key
Next the walls were closed on me
And I discovered that my castles stand
Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

I hear Jerusalem bells a ringing
Roman Cavalry choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain
Once you go there was never
Never an honest word
And that was when I ruled the world

It was the wicked and wild wind
Blew down the doors to let me in
Shattered windows and the sound of drums
People couldn't believe what I'd become

Revolutionaries wait
For my head on a silver plate
Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh who would ever want to be king?

The rest is mostly refrain from before, except for a line that "I know Saint Peter won't call my name." Remember, this is the best of the lot. It almost evokes a lost world of a "king," that has fallen from grace in more ways than one. It doesn't exactly make you want to dance, nor does it give you a sense that the band is much interested in creating something that connects on an emotional level. It's all very detached.

Compare that to a middling U2 song called "Beautiful Day" that has a great sound:

The heart is a bloom
Shoots up through the stony ground
There's no room
No space to rent in this town

You're out of luck
And the reason that you had to care
The traffic is stuck
And you're not movin' anywhere

You thought you'd found a friend
To take you out of this place
Someone you could lend a hand
In return for grace

It's a beautiful day
Sky falls, you feel like
It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away

You're on the road
But you've got no destination
You're in the mud
In the maze of her imagination

You love this town
Even if that doesn't ring true
You've been all over
And it's been all over you

It's a beautiful day (refrain)

Touch me
Take me to that other place
Teach me now
I know I'm not a hopeless case

See the world in green and blue
See China right in front of you
See the canyons broken by cloud
See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out

See the Bedouin fires at night
See the oil fields at first light
And see the bird with a leaf in her mouth
After the flood all the colors came out
(Day!)

The refrains build to a crescendo at the end of the song as Bono sings, "What you don't have you don't need it, now."

It's a whole different, positive vibe that makes me look forward to the U2-charist planned for November in our church, when we sing to music that moves both your feet and your soul.

'Braid' the Video Game Tackles Meaning of Life

Late yesterday I was driving around Huntington looking for an open tennis court with my gal pal Eileen when NPR mentioned a video game for kids and adults that's more about life, the universe and everything, rather than an opportunity to kill a slew of fictional characters.

Since it was a low-humidity, sunny day, three of the locations we cruised were full of players, but we finally found some open courts at Huntington High School. This gave me time to listen to much of the broadcast about the game, one of the few besides Myst, The Sims and a recent spate of brainteaser games to promise something other than adrenaline inducing interactions with warriors, beasts or falling objects that kill your player.

Instead of the usual, Braid is a game that's more like living your fictional character's life and discovering his struggles, disappointments and joys along the way, informing your ideas for what he should do. While this may not sound like the most enticing game, it's one that involves moral dilemmas and decision making, which aren't bad skills to develop in young players.

The last video game I played was the Wii games of bowling, tennis and softball with my son. They were fun, but there's nothing like the real thing -- as my thighs and arms attest to today. But if I'm going to exercise my mind with something other than a crossword puzzle, I'd give Braid a try.

In Praise of the Perfect Summer Day

Today was a glorious summer day, clear, dry, sunny and beautiful. The rare kind of day both in weather and temperament that happens maybe a dozen times during the year.

After a cup of tea and walking Lucky, I stopped at Copenhagen Bakery, an Old World-style bakery with a real Danish proprietor, who operates it with his wife and four of his six children. The aroma when you enter is heavenly. Fresh baby brioche warm from the oven, crumb cake, Danish cheese pastry and sweet potato biscuits went into my bag. The brioche melted in my mouth as I sipped my second cup of Earl Grey tea of the day.

I spent much of the rest of the morning at the Northport Farmer's Market, marveling at the sumptuous array of cheeses from an upstate dairy farm, the Tokyo purple of the curved Japanese eggplant, the deep blood red of the heirloom tomatoes, the brilliant hues of the buckets of zinnias. After filling and emptying my cloth shopping bag into another bag in my car and returning to fill it again, I added an organic, wheat-free cheesecake, baby bok choy, a quart of juicy blackberries, freshly caught yellowfin tuna and fluke and organic chicken to the bounty of food.

While I was shopping, I saw a friend from a theater group, my optometrist (prior to getting Lasik) and a friend from a networking group. The optometrist didn't recognize me at first. He came over to me later and asked where Lucky was. Lots of people brought their dogs. I petted one that looked just like Toto, as well as a Dalmation, a coal black Great Dane and several strange mix-ups.

Back at home, Andy and I enjoyed a quiet day on our deck, looking out at the Long Island Sound. We could see the Connecticut shoreline clearly, and boats and jet skis went by, rocked by waves blown by a strong summer breeze. We were reading and talking and basking in the loveliness of the day until dinner time. His pain levels were better than usual until the evening, but he was a trooper and went out with me anyway

We went to the debut production of an original play performed by the Bare Bones Theater Group in a Victorian-era performance space with 20-foot-high ceilings. It's used as a ballet studio during the day; theater studio at night. Called "Theater Games," the production was as good if not better than any play I've seen in an Off-Broadway Theater, and the director/teacher, Jeff Bennett, seemed pleased with the actors. I expect it will have a life in the future, and it was exciting to see the birth of an artistic talent -- we met the writer, who sat near us during the performance.

Northport at night was busy, as the main theater had a production underway, too, of "Over the River and Through the Woods." The restaurants and wine bar were abuzz and the moon shone overhead in the cool night.

Back at home, my neighbors' annual bachannale is well underway. Every year when their children are at summer camp, they have a three-day drunken bash around their pool and throughout their multi-leveled, multi-roomed house. Music by the B-52s was playing as I brushed my teeth.

Andy is sleeping. I am preparing to do the same. But first I'm going to say a prayer of gratitude, to thank God once again for a perfect summer day.

The Gospels as Ancient Blogs

I've never been able to keep a diary for more than a couple of months at a stretch, something that puzzled me over the years, but I think I finally figured out why. It's not that I don't have anything to say, but that sometimes I'd rather not say it. (Image of St. John from Tiffany Studios stained glass window at Trinity Episcopal Church in Northport, NY.)

When I was on vacation in Block Island, I had every intention of videotaping much of the experience, but I wound up with only a few minutes recorded. The problem was that it reminded me too much of working as a journalist, and constantly being "on." When you are acting the observer you're always taking notes in your head or on paper and looking for angles. The whole point of being on vacation is to switch off for a while and just be.

The same goes for writing. I enjoy writing, just not on a constant basis. Blogging is the closest thing to writing for fun without pressure that I've ever had. I guess I've found that it's true that an unexamined life is not worth living, but the opposite is equally true: a constantly examined life is a life that's not experienced -- just observed.

That's part of the reason why I think it took so long for the Gospels to be put in written form. The disciples were out there testifying to the life of Christ and acting as witnesses, rather than putting it all down on paper as it happened. In fact, the letters from Paul to various groups were passed around and copied long before the Gospels were given the same treatment. Like blogs, they were stories by real people who just wanted to give their point of view.

The first three Gospels are told in a similar fashion, the books of Matthew, Mark and Luke. For that reason they are called the Synoptic Gospels. They are a straightforward chronological story of the birth, life and death of Christ from each disciple's perspective. Like a game of telephone, each has varying details. Different people do not remember events in the same way. As a journalist, I know that sometimes the same people write accounts of events differently on different days, based on the perspective, mood, writing skill and recall of the moment. If you want an example, just ask anyone who's written something and had their computer crash before saving it whether it was the same when they rewrote it.

The book of John is the one that is called the "spiritual" Gospel, meaning that it carries more weight as a piece of art; as real literature. John, in all likelihood, had a much better editor than the other three. His version of events seems to be divinely inspired.

As films and novels show, sometimes fiction can convey an event in a truer fashion than a mere factual account, because of the inherent emotional impact. Occasionally, the fallibility of human nature can be a poetic and beautiful thing. That's my epiphany of the moment.

In War Satire, Hollywood Plays the Great Satan

The movie Tropic Thunder might not exactly be a family film, but when I went to see it with family members including my 70-year-old mother and my 15-year-old niece, everyone found something to laugh at.

A satire of every major Vietnam war movie I've ever seen, the film is about a group of actors on location in Vietnam who wind up fighting a real battle to survive when they are stranded in the jungle and heroin traffickers kidnap the star and two of the crew.

Parodies of scenes from Platoon, Apocalypse Now, The Deer Hunter, First Blood and the movie about the making of Apocalypse Now, Hearts of Darkness, are the framework for what is actually the ultimate Hollywood insider film. Sure, you have your scene where the actors are like the soldiers, talking about who they want to go home to after it's all over, your comic attempt to distract the enemy while freeing the prisoners, etc. About the only conventional scene that doesn't appear is the one where the deaths of their comrades frightens the soldiers so much that they talk about dying or pray for salvation -- the "there are no Atheists in foxholes" scene.

In fact, the only real battles that involve good and evil take place between the ridiculously crude-talking producer Les Grossman (played by a skeevy-looking Tom Cruise) and the director (played by Steve Coogan); and in the scenes between Grossman and Rick Peck (Matthew McConaughey), the agent for mega-star Tugg Speedman (Ben Stiller). Grossman wields a vicious tongue threatening bodily harm using his, reportedly, oversized body part and threatens to shut down the film, leading to one of the funniest scenes when the director takes the actors deep into the jungle using handheld cameras and cameras mounted on trees to get a grittier reality from them.

(SPOILER ALERT) Just as the director declares to the actors that, "The chopper is God and I am your personal Jesus Christ," and only through him will they be able to contact the helicopter pilot and leave the jungle, he steps on a landmine and is blown up in front of their eyes. It's the equivalent of a thunderbolt from God destroying him for his blasphemy.

The other moral struggle is when Grossman tempts Peck to forget about his kidnapped client, "a dying star," and instead let the drug lords kill him without protest in exchange for a "G5" personal jet (cue the heavenly chorus) and "lots of money." The idea is that the insurance will more than cover the movie losses, making it a much more profitable solution.

Grossman as Hollywood Devil is topped only by one of the the hilarious fake trailers preceding the start of Tropic Thunder, in which Downey plays a Brokeback Mountain-inspired monk in a film called Satan's Alley.

In the film, religion is a joke only in the sense that Hollywood, which lacks a soul, uses it in such a cynical way to win an audience.

Ironically, the quote of the day today from Bible.com's book, God's Wisdom for Daily Living, addresses how to deal with people like Les Grossman. It quotes Proverbs 23:6-8, warning against eating with wealthy people who have an "evil eye," or who are only entertaining you to get something that they want. Also, it quotes 1 John 2:15: "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world, And the world passes away, and the lust thereof: but he that does the will of God abides forever."

Tiki Trot Race Part of Church Festival Fun

The last place I expected to be last Saturday night was running on a country road at sunset, tiki torches lighting the way, a golden harvest moon hung ahead of us on the horizon like a prize at the end of the road. But thanks to my brother Sam, a runner, I was talked into joining the 5K Tiki Trot, a highlight of the Kirchenfest -- German for "church festival" -- in tiny Hecker, Illinois, population 475.

The festival draws practically every resident of the town and then many more from the area for the annual fundraiser. An old-fashioned German festival with a few modern adaptations like the run, it typifies the way a church can generate community spirit for a common cause and in celebration of life.

After our run, Sam and I drank beer, ate authentic bratwurst and funnel cake, and listed to the righteous music of Butch's Polka Kings as we sat at a picnic table ringing the large open air pavillion, where dancers of all ages and sizes danced the polka with the enthusiasm only a few rounds of beer can inspire. Not far away, people were playing games on the midway lit by strings of lightbulbs. In another area, hundreds sat at tables playing Bingo for sizable prizes. Raffles for handmade quilts and novelty items lined the area next to the beer truck and food stands. The community building a half a block away offered all-you-can-eat chicken and pork sausage.

Lots of children played games with their parents, and some were mighty enthused by the music and funnel cakes. It was a gorgeous summer night, and despite other festivals, carnivals and even the Midnight Ramble, a bike ride through the streets of nearby St. Louis, taking place that night, the crowds were still going strong when we left around 10 p.m.

Some of my fond memories of growing up were going to family events like these, which I hope never go out of style. It makes me look forward to Northport's slightly larger event, the Cow Harbor Day Fair, where our church features its raffles and sales of goods and food, rock music and kid's games. It's a fundraiser, too, and an important part of bringing people into the church, even in a small way.

How did I do in the Tiki Trot 5K run, you might ask? Well, I'm not much of a runner, but I didn't embarass myself. In the spirit of such fun runs, finishing is all that really matters, so that you can enjoy the rest of the night.

Flying into an Unknown Future

During my hours-long layover in a Baltimore airport yesterday, extended by thunderstorms in the Northeast backing up flights, I met a group of Army recruits waiting next to me for our flight to St. Louis.

All recent high school graduates from Baltimore, they seemed to be led by a young Korean woman, an Army brat, who talked excitedly about this new adventure they were all embarking on. A quiet young African American man with a shy smile and a Puerto Rican man who cracked jokes, chatted with her about what they might expect at Basic Training in Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri.

I wanted to say something encouraging to them, feeling a mix of fear and protectiveness toward them. I remembered the letters so many years ago from my brother when he was in Basic for the Air Force. He was as lonely and homesick as he'd ever been in his life. At least they had each other, joining together, though they might not be together for long after Basic was over.

Their parents, I imagine, must have felt the same dread and hope for them that I did. The hope that they wouldn't go to Iraq or Afghanistan and the dread that it was almost a surety that they would.

I told them all good luck as we boarded the plane. They were worried at that point about whether there would be enough open seats for them to sit together. They are so young. All you can do is pray for them.

God Squad Sheds Light on Poem

Years ago I saw the religious "comedy" team of the "God Squad" -- Rabbi Marc Gellman and Monsignor Thomas Hartman -- who appeared at a fundraiser dinner event. Since they live on Long Island, the syndicated duo are well known in this area. (Good Morning America photo from 1995.)

Although Thomas Hartman no longer contributes to the newspaper column nor does the Good Morning America TV show because of his advanced Parkinson's Disease, he is still active in the Foundation for Parkinson's Disease, which he founded in 2004. He diagnosed with the disease in 2001.

So now the God Squad is down to one rabbi, but he still manages to answer an array of questions about all faiths and issues. Most recently someone asked about a poem that was recited at a funeral that he thought was a Psalm from the Old Testament. It turned out to be of Arabic origin, and actually was a Sufi song called, "All I Ask." I thought it held a beautiful sentiment, so I'm going to repeat it here:

All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.
As we make our way through all of the joys and pain, can we sense our younger, truer selves?
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.
Someone will be calling you to be there for a while. Can you hear the cry from deep within?
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.
Laughter, joy and presence: the only gifts you are. Have you time? I'd like to be with you.
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.
Persons come into the fiber of our lives, and then their shadow fades and disappears.
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.
Ishq'Allah, ma abud L'illah, Ishq'Allah, ma abud L'illah
All I ask of you is forever to remember me as loving you.

As we Christians say, Amen.

Two Films with Supernatural Powers

Rounding out the summer's film fare, I recently saw the two latest summer sequels, one of which would have made an excellent TV movie; the other a special effects action ride that delivered exactly what it promised.

The X-Files: I Want to Believe brought Mulder and Scully back together to solve what will probably be their last mystery on film, judging by the minimal box office take of the first two weekends. A great TV series that jumped the shark toward the end of its long run, the X-Files movie gives the characters their due in a story that's more plot-oriented than it is a freaky turn of events involving monsters or aliens. A disgraced priest with supernatural powers is the key in this one. One of the most intelligent reviews of the film online can be found on ChristianityToday.com.

Tonight, I watched the latest Mummy film, the one set in China and debuted the same day the Olympics began there, and which perpetuates the myth that the Chinese generals who built the Great Wall buried their enemies underneath it. But real facts aside, it does a bang-up job of creating a fictional post-World War II China on Chinese New Year as the O'Connell son uncovers the tomb of the Dragon Emperor and presents it to the Shanghai Museum. Mayhem ensues involving supernaturally animated terra cotta horses racing through the streets, pursued by a fireworks truck; then a trek into the mountains to Shangri-La, where the Emperor seeks to become immortal.

Hollywood Jesus does a thorough examination of a film that features both a Mummy and Yeti who know Kung Fu. The battle of good against evil, as usual, is all in good fun.

Food as Source of Physical, Spiritual Healing

Not long ago I joked to my husband that if someone combined religion with dieting, they would have a brilliant way to get people disciplined enough to actually lose weight.

Today I got an email from a friend about just such a program. The irony is that it involves juicing organic fruit and vegetables, which we just began doing this week as a radical new approach to try to get his Lupus under control.

The Hallelujah Diet was founded by Rev. George Malkmus, who also started the Hallelujah Acres Christian ministry, a non-denominational group devoted to education, products and services revolving around Bible-based teachings on diet and health. The headquarters in Shelby, NC has a Culinary Academy, a cafe and a health food store for people who are interested in the program. Other "Get Healthy" resource centers are in Charlotte, NC; Greenville, SC; Newmarket, Ontario, Canada. The center also does Health Ministry training for couples, and health ministers are located as far away as England and New Zealand. Lifestyle centers, which are like health spas, are located in California, Kentucky, Florida and North Carolina.

The website for the ministry features numerous testimonies about people being healed from diseases ranging from cancer to diabetes, and specifically mentions Lupus, which got my attention. The diet plan teaches that God originally wanted us to be vegetarians, but we began eating meat as a consequence of all plants being wiped out by the flood that Noah's Ark saved the remaining people and animals from drowning in. I guess after those animal reproduced, their offspring looked like a tasty alternative to starvation. (Of course, like those who teach this diet, we can only surmise.)

In any case, I think the diet provides lots of benefits for overweight and ill people. As a source of hope, the spiritual component is a plus, as well. I think any diet that substitutes fresh vegetables and fruit for the standard processed-heavy American diet must have an immediate impact on weight loss and health. Fresh juices, too, are surprisingly filling and give you energy.

I have to say I was impressed with the scientific research about the diet available on the site, and the fact that the products and classes are all very reasonably priced. Obviously, those who are operating the programs have a "higher calling" than mere profit, and I think that benefits anyone who wants to pursue weight loss or better health along with becoming a better Christian.

'Feet' on Sea of Galilee Still Boggles the Mind

To me, today's gospel about Jesus walking on the Sea of Galilee remains one of the most inspirational stories of His deeds on earth.

To get a grasp of what transpired, picture a freshwater lake that's over 140 feet deep and 8 miles wide. Jesus, who was trying to get a little R&R after teaching people for hours on end, hears the cries of his disciples who he had sent across the lake to set up camp. They are petrified that the storm will capsize the boat and they will all drown.

When I teach middle school students about the event, I like to show a clip from the 1999 mini-series called Jesus, my favorite film version of Jesus with the disciples. In it, Jesus walks without difficulty on the waves toward the boat and calls out to the men over roar of the wind to trust in him. Peter calls to him and asks if he can walk over to him on the water. Jesus invites him to do so, but the wind scares Peter and he loses his concentration and again cries for Jesus to save him. (Rembrandt painting of "Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee".)

Jesus tells Peter that it's his lack of faith that makes him sink as he raises Peter back up from the water.

It's a great metaphor for faith. We're almost all like Peter in life. As soon as things stop going our way, we start to doubt. Some of us lose faith right away. Others are petrified and wait for saving, instead of trusting that God will protect us. It's when we are most challenged that we know the real depth of our faith.

Jesus tells his disciples on many occasions to trust in the Lord; to not fear. If we really believe, we have nothing to fear -- but fear itself.

Poverty's State of Mind Hard to Overcome

I recently saw a repeat of a show Oprah did on a Showtime documentary called "Reversal of Fortune" about a homeless man, Ted Rodrigue, who was given $100,000 to spend on whatever he wished.

The same kind of judgment that led to him living under a highway overpass and subsisting on can and bottle deposits to feed himself and buy beer each day was used in spending the money. One of his first purchases was a $35,000 car as a gift to one of the employees of the recycling center. You can imagine how he spent the rest of the money.

The filmmaker said he wanted to show what happened when you "throw money at a problem."

The problem of poverty has been around since people have been around -- the only difference is the definition. Whether one can feed oneself and/or their family is a basic definition. The ability to pay for shelter, clothing and medical care are other basic needs. In an era where welfare families can afford TVs and cell phones, most Americans can avoid poverty if they can work for an hourly wage. The question is whether they value their lives.

Handing $100,000 to an indigent man seems irresponsible and guaranteed to produce the result that he would blow it all and become homeless once again (which happened). Instead, if the filmmaker then took $100,000 and figured out how to best invest it to help the largest number of needy people, this social experiment would have had some educational benefit for people out there who are looking for ways to help others. That's a much more difficult approach, however.

Poverty is not a simple, solvable issue. As Jesus astutely pointed out, "the poor will always be with us." The question is how we can be compassionate toward the poor and help them most effectively, whether it's through food banks, free medical care or providing reasonably priced public transportation for people who can't afford a car. Or a free copy of "Rich Dad, Poor Dad," for those who can read at a reasonable level. More than money, people who are poor need education on how to set goals and reach them.

As books and programs on the lottery curse show, money is not the answer for most poor people -- they only think it will be. Often a large windfall causes more problems than it solves. And so, "the love of money is the root of all evil."

Oprah, to her credit, has done many shows just about poverty and issues revolving around money. Her Big Give programs are an education in how much of a difference one person can make for another or for a whole community. As someone who came from poverty, she knows firsthand that the kindness and support of others on an ongoing basis is more important than any monetary gift. A church community, too, can help people keep the focus where it should be. Also, Oprah's "Soul Series" addresses the needs of the poor in spirit.

When Nature's AC Drew Crowds

A day before my husband and I joined two dear friends on a trip to Block Island, we discovered that the historic hotel we'd booked did not have air conditioning. As a matter of fact, we learned that none of the Victorian-era and older hotels on the tiny Rhode Island resort have air conditioning. Later, when we arrived at the landmark National Hotel, I read a framed brochure from the 1920s extolling the virtues of "nature's air conditioning."

A bit apprehensive, we planned to spend the day out in restaurants and shops anyway. However, with the exception of a couple of shops, none of these establishments had air conditioning either. The sweltering heat in the low 90s with high humidity was oppressive, and I worried about being able to sleep for the next two nights.

Later in the day as we sat in the hotel lobby imbibing cold drinks and looking out at the water, a slight breeze began to blow through the open doorways. Dark clouds rolled over the ocean in a menacing way, the wind whipped up and the temperature dropped about 20 degrees in a matter of minutes as rain pounded on the porch awning. The rest of the stay was far cooler, as BI usually is that time of year.

Our experience made me think about how we take for granted so many of the modern conveniences we now enjoy, like air conditioning and the high speed ferry that we took from Montauk to get there. The hotel featured several framed letters from the early 1900s, many of them from guests writing to request information on rates or to reserve rooms months in advance. Some of them were gracious notes thanking the manager for the courtesies extended to them during their stay. Advance bookings were a necessity in a place where most hotels had less than 50 rooms.

Life moved at a much slower pace then, and travel of any kind must have been a much more perilous and exciting adventure without telephones, ATMs and credit cards. When we stopped in the Block Island museum and saw the clothing and furniture of its early days, I realized that women had it the worst, wearing enormous woolen bathing suits on the beach, and when they were in the regular garb, whalebone corsets and large, heavy hats.

As we sat on the expansive verandah of the Atlantic Inn one night looking out at the town and the bay below, sipping coffee and eating desserts, I think we had a sense of what it might have felt like to enjoy the simple pleasures of that era. The sky was so clear and the ambient lights of the cities so distant that we could see the Milky Way as we strolled back to town amid a chorus of crickets.

And though I enjoyed our stay and the many wonderful dining experiences, when we arrived home late Monday night and climbed into bed amid air conditioned splendor, I thanked God for that one small advance.