Mel Brooks As the Best Medicine

Yesterday when I was shopping, I picked up the Mel Brooks Collection of films at Costco for a bargain price of $39.99 for eight films (regularly almost $100). Along with prayers from our friends, I think Andy is getting better by watching the movies and laughing. He had some toast and broth for lunch and is more active than he's been since Sunday.

We watched History of the World, Part I, To Be or Not to Be and today he watched Blazing Saddles while I did laundry and walked lucky in the Prescott Forest. As we listened to the wind in the 100-foot pines, he was laughing at the black sheriff and the Jewish gunslinger cracking jokes and taking names.

It's strange to think that it's New Year's Eve. I'd forgotten the time change when I called Andy's New York doctor for some information today, and the office was closed early. In the past, we'd be dining out at an upscale restaurant with friends. Instead, I'm making Beef Stroganoff (probably only noodles for him) and we'll be watching Silent Movie or High Anxiety or Young Frankenstein or The Twelve Chairs or Robin Hood: Men in Tights tonight, and toasting with hot tea.

Here's wishing all who read this health and happiness -- and lots of laughs in the New Year. And always remember, it's good to be (with) the King.

Walking the Road to Wellness

Andy was feeling a bit better today, able to hold down some liquids, which is a major relief. It was a pity he could only view the outdoors from the bedroom of the cabin, because it was a gorgeous day. I was out in Prescott doing a little follow-up shopping, and one of the temperature signs read 68 degrees.

I took the opportunity to call friends and family on my cell phone, since it only works when I'm out of the mountains. Between that and a trip to Costco, a lot of time was eaten up.

When I got back the sun was already sinking in the sky, so I quickly walked Lucky down Cherry Creek road and got some picturesque shots.

Down the road a piece, I shot a cabin against a mountain ridge, an old tractor visible on the property below. A windmill on the property of what might have been a cattle ranch was our last stop on the road -- it was getting cooler and darker, so we headed back. Other photos are of our backyard -- framed by the mountain. Another is of the one-room schoolhouse now used as a home. Note the desk in the front.

Tomorrow I plan to start talking to people about their favorite books on God -- perhaps even compile a list. We'll see.

My walks may not do Andy any good right now, but they keep me feeling well, which he needs me to be, so I take them.

Exploring Cherry Creek's Roads, Woods

As I sit here in the Christ Unlimited offices, where Bible.com is produced, I marvel at the beauty outside. It's the warmest day yet at about 60 degrees and the sun is shining. I've been taking photos when we're out, including one on the road leading to Dewey, the primitive road in front of the property, the Cherry Bed and Breakfast, and one of Lucky making friends with Biscuit the horse.

On our walk we saw tracks made by deer and some other dog-like creature that could have been a coyote. If you stand still, you can hear a car coming down the road from a couple of miles away.

All along the area, a Hassayampa trickles. I love the sound of the name the Yavapai Indians gave for a creek that goes underground and comes back up again in several spots. This one runs along the mountain. As I walked down the road, it occurred to me that faith is like a hassayampa for many people. It is always there, a current running through them, but it really only appears when it is needed.

Andy became deathly ill with the flu this morning, and I worry that I will need to take him to the hospital to recover since he becomes dehydrated quickly. All I can do is hope and have faith that he will be better in the morning. Faith springs and hope floats.

From Saccharine 'Marley' to Salty Sweet 'In Bruges'

Holidays are made for film-going escapism, where you chuck any thought of work or ambition and lose yourself in a fantasy world for two hours, or many hours, if you can.

Yesterday, Andy, Lucky and I -- yes, Lucky too -- were in that mode when we went to see Marley & Me. Lucky's aid dog pass wasn't even requested, and we cruised in only to have little old ladies practically fight over the chance to sit next to us in the handicapped section.

I'd been anticipating watching the comedy about life with the "world's worst dog" based on John Grogan's book ever since I'd read the book over a year ago. So we settled in for an enjoyable experience.

Lucky's reaction kind of says it all about the film. He watched a lot of it, but about two-thirds through he got bored and began watching the audience. Later, he was upset by the people sobbing out loud toward the end of the film when it became clear that Marley was going to meet his unavoidable demise.

Yes, the tears were jerked out of me as well, but I have to say that the book was better than the movie. Grogan is funnier on the page than Owen Wilson is on the screen. In fact, his portrayal of Grogan was rather flat, making me wonder if he was still depressed after his suicide attempt.

Andy and I discussed the film and agreed on two points: the 20 dogs used to portray Marley often didn't look like the same dog (the idea was to age him) which made it less believable, and the dogs really didn't connect with the actors the same way they do in real life. It was obvious. W.C. Fields was right not to want to work with babies or animals -- it's tough to get good performances out of them.

The film hit all the right notes, but it just wasn't inspired like the book.

On the other hand, the used DVD of the film In Bruges that we'd bought at the independent store in Prescott turned out to be a very good investment. It had been recommended as the "11th" best film of 2008 by David Edelstein, New York Magazine film critic in an interview with Terry Gross on NPR's Fresh Air. I hadn't heard of the film, but was intrigued. Apparently it was officially released in a few theaters at the end of 2007, but distribution didn't go wide until early 2008. Then it sank like a stone in the states.

Bruges, one of the best preserved medieval towns in Europe, is the setting for the comedy/drama pairing of pretty boy actor Colin Farrell as hitman Ray and Actor Brendan Gleeson, the eye-patch wearing professor of the Dark Arts in the Harry Potter films, as hitman Ken, a sort of father figure to him. They are sent to Bruges after doing a hit in London. Their evil boss, Ralph Fiennes plays another baddie (he's Voldemort in the Harry Potter films) as Harry. Ray hates the quiet of Bruges and Ken loves the art and culture. As the two argue and sightsee in some hilarious scenes, they wind up asking each other and themselves many of life's most important questions. Like, why are we here? What does it all mean? Is there a heaven? Is there a hell? And as they stare at Hieronymous Bosch's triptych called "The Judgment," they even ask, what is art?

Surrounded by paintings and sculpture reflecting a bloody era, they clash with their own moral code in a city that is clean and orderly and preserved.

A brush with a film crew working in town and a provocative young woman keep things moving along, and Ray begins to accept and even embrace where he is to a small degree.

Ultimately, they are both are squarely faced with questions of life and death and redemption. It's a beautiful film, full of "fucking" swearing and no small amount of violence, but true to its story and quite intricate and unpredictable. It's an original, that rara avis of films.

Dogs + Book Titles = Radical Change of Place

Today I forgot the camera when we headed out with Lucky in the car to join us in town. So I missed the gorgeous sunny vistas of the mountains around us as we drove down the country roads toward civilization.

It was obvious we weren't in New York anymore, though, when we walked Lucky in the Prescott town square and met lots of dogs and their owners. While Northport is a dog-friendly town, Prescott is a dog-loving town where merchants give out treats and strangers veer toward dogs instead of away from them. 

The Burmese Mountain dog, Max, made friends with Lucky while his owner and "grandmother" got to know us. Former Philadelphians, they raved about the lifestyle of Prescott and the better standard of living. They offered to help in any way they could if we needed advice.

Also, when we visited the large local independent book/video/software store, the Christian section took up about a third of books, many of them used. Definitely different.

Since all of my books are in transit, I tried to find a variety to read, from the John Adams biography, to the 2008 Best American Short Stories (edited by Salman Rushdie) to a Studs Terkel book I somehow missed called Will the Circle Be Unbroken: Reflections on Death, Rebirth and Hunger for a Faith. It came out in 2001, a year of turmoil, so that may explain my gap in knowing it. Last but not least, a little humor -- David Sedaris's Holidays on Ice. He's one of the few writers who always makes me LOL. I couldn't find Cokie Roberts's Founding Mothers, but that will be next on my list.

Having A Merry Little Christmas In Spite Of It All

After passing through blizzard-like snows in the Continental Divide of New Mexico, Andy and I were thrilled to eventually arrive at our last stop along the road in Winslow, Arizona on Tuesday night.

Known for being a place in the middle of nowhere, celebrated in that Eagles' song "Take It Easy," its roadside truckstop and quaint downtown were an extremely welcome respite after a tough driving day. We even stopped at the famous corner, but it was dark by then, so we didn't stick around. I was sorry to miss the Petrified Forest and the world's largest meteor crater on the drive, but windy, cold conditions made it necessary to push on and make plans to visit during warmer weather. Flagstaff was also snowy, but the snowplows had done their work by the time we passed through, making it less stressful during the last hour of our trip.

We settled in the tiny guest cabin on the Bible.com compound, which will be our home for a week, until our furniture arrives in a POD in Phoenix. Then we will move into the larger guest home next door where we will stay while we make our search for a house to buy in Prescott.

Yesterday we shopped for food at one of the best health food stores I've ever been in, a family-owned chain called New Frontiers Natural Marketplace, which gets its organic produce from its own farms in California. We met the owner and he chatted with us for some time. I found a 12-pound organic turkey for dinner, and we had lunch in the cafe.

After unloading the food, we raced back to town (a 45-minute drive) to go to 4:30 services at one of the churches I researched online, then went to pick up some dishes and other sundries that we needed for Christmas dinner before all of the stores closed at 7 p.m.

Our Christmas tree was purchased at Basha's, another local grocer, and is a foot-tall live cypress in burlap, which we will plant in the spring. We also got a stuffed penguin and turkey jerky as Christmas presents for Lucky.

Last night it rained all night and it is still raining -- Prescott's version of snow. It's such a delight to be somewhere and unpacked, and to enjoy good food, we were content to be in our snug little cabin. Lucky loved his presents, especially unwrapping them.

Today we trimmed the Christmas tree with my gold necklace chains and Santa and angel earrings, and Andy made a star out of aluminum foil for the top at my request. I decorated a shelf in the cabin with the tree and gifts and cards we'd received from friends and family. Then I prepared dinner using every pot and pan in the cabin and a few we'd bought, cooking the brined turkey, which turned out even better than I'd expected.

As we sat down to dinner, we gave God thanks for watching over us and delivering us safely into Prescott, for the many blessings in our lives and especially for the love and support of friends and family, which have seen us through it all.

After dinner we watched a Netflix movie I'd brought along called Jeremiah, in which Patrick Dempsey, the hunk from the TV series "Grey's Anatomy," played the long-suffering prophet who did God's will in warning the King and leaders of Jerusalem of their impending destruction by the Babylonians if they did not follow the word of God. He said God wanted them to end the idolatry, injustices, corruption, prostitution and cruel indifference toward widows, the poor and foreigners. It was impressive how he did some of his own stunts in the scenes where he is beaten, dragged by a horse, thrown in a well and otherwise imprisoned, starved and tortured. That's what often happens when you have an unpopular message to deliver.

While The Nativity Story may have been a more uplifting film to watch on a day like today, Jeremiah was worth seeing because it reminded us of the current affairs of the world now as people suffer because our government officials have been ignoring the warning signs of impending economic doom for years.

There are interesting parallels, too, in that Jeremiah's King claimed to be pious while doing abominable acts against God. President Bush and his cabinet led us into to an immoral war in Iraq because of the influence of demand for foreign oil. The government ran up a record deficit to save wealthy people and corporations from paying their fair share of taxes. The current Administration labeled anyone who disagreed with government policy as "unpatriotic," and proceeded to violate their civil rights by invading their privacy when they protested -- going against our own laws. Our founders very forcefully wrote by-laws to the Constitution to protect us from government because dissent keeps it honest and representative. Also, many of our representatives' anti-alien efforts turned legal immigrants into pariahs to such a degree that they are attacked on the streets of Long Island. Jeremiah cited God's anger at such xenophobic hatred.

Not only has corruption in government played a role in our current situation, but also the worshiping of false Gods in terms of money. As a result, we have CEOs who earned multi-million-dollar salaries cutting the jobs and benefits of faithful working people. The housing market's crash, too, is very much a result of the rampant greed at every level as mortgage brokers and bankers ran amok in the past decade, thanks to a lack of government controls.

As the year draws toward an end, we know that our Jerusalem will fall too -- it is inevitable in spite of a "savior" of sorts in President-Elect Barack Obama. Nevertheless, we hope to see our world rebuilt with a stronger foundation, a purer heart and with a true belief in God -- not lip service or support of narrow issues -- that will strengthen it in the future.

Traveling through Amarillo, Albuquerque

One of the big art icons of Texas is the Cadillac Ranch, a line of Cadillacs buried nosefirst in a pasture outside of Amarillo. I'd heard of it years ago, and wanted to stop there on the way -- but we almost missed it. Neither of us saw it from the road as Andy called out the GPS coordinates, so we had to turn around six miles past it and stop to ask for directions.

A young convenience store clerk in a Western shirt and jeans, grinning like James Dean, pointed me in the right direction and shook his head as I left.

Two miles on the right. Turns out an overpass blocks the view of the site, far out in a cow pasture. With the wind chill, it was probably below zero (hate those West Texas winds) and a brutal walk to the site.

Lucky was thrilled to check it out, though. Visitors are encouraged to bring spray paint cans and decorate the cars according to their artistic vision. Lucky merely added his editorial comment by lifting his leg on one of the cars.

We drove on for hours, watching the terrain change from plains to desert as we entered New Mexico. In Tucumcari, we saw one of the most stunning sunsets I've ever witnessed -- a common sight here.

The drive got moutainous and difficult as we reached the area surrounding Albuquerque. We've been staying in the Albuquerque Hotel, which has a grand entrance, but an attached hotel building that looks like a '60s honeycomb. We're right on the Old Town Square, which is lined with Indian jewelry shops, tourist shops and restaurants. We walked through, but Andy was in too much pain to actually browse. So we made the decision to stay an extra night so that he could rest and feel better for the last leg of the drive.

Imagine my shock when I opened out hotel drapes yesterday morning and saw a missile outside. I later found out that it's part of the National Atomic Museum. In fact, we're right on museum row, and there are six museums within as many blocks.

As one of the most unique museums, though small, the Atomic Museum teaches of the history of nuclear materials and medicine, displays replicas of the bombs dropped on Nagasaki and Hiroshima and features the flag and atomic glass created at the first test site in New Mexico, among its treasures. Almost all of the people visiting it were Japanese when I was there.

As an intern at the Robert F. Kennedy Memorial Foundation's Student Press Service back in 1980, I became well acquainted with Eric Seaborg, the son of one of the discoverers of Plutonium. Glenn Seaborg won the Nobel Prize, but then became an outspoken opponent of nuclear weaponry. His son, now an environmental activist, was just as ardently opposed to the U.S. military build-up. He was among those against instating a peacetime draft, and we marched together in an anti-Draft march in D.C., as well as a No Nukes march. I hadn't thought of him in years, until I saw the photo of his father and the spectrometer he'd donated to the museum.

After a quick jaunt through the museum, I went to the New Mexico Museum of Natural History & Science and admired the extensive collection of dinosaur bones and tracks, all collected in the state.

Today the forecast is ominous for snow throughout the area, and gray clouds hung over the mountains, but after an early morning rain the sky has cleared and the sun is shining. We're getting ready to pack up and move out. On to Prescott, weather willing.

Lubbock's Peculiar Charms: Cowboys to Buddy Holly

At the Buddy Holly museum.
At the Cowboy Church in Lubbock.

At the Cherokee Trading Post somewhere in Oklahoma.

My first visit to Lubbock was in 1986 when I was reporting on a law student who advocated the right to die after surviving a gas explosion that had burned him on 90% of his body and nearly killed him. Blind and disfigured, Dax wanted to become a lawyer so that he could advocate for others who wanted those rights. It wasn't exactly a happy story, and the Dallas Times Herald editors were a bit disturbed by the photos my ex-husband took of Dax puffing on a cigar, his face wreathed with smoke.

My clearest memories of Lubbock was of landing at the airport, which was close to a cattle ranch, and watching tumbleweeds blowing across the open plains. Driving into Lubbock at 11 p.m. three nights ago, I was amazed at the incredible growth of the city. It has doubled in population to 200,000 people and expanded at least to twice its former size a little more than 20 years ago.

Despite being rife with the usual chain restaurants and hotels that are everywhere, Lubbock retains its uniqueness as a home to Texas Tech and a high-tech outpost out on the prairie. Internet access is everywhere, even the smallest coffee shop. The highways are being rebuilt and expanded; there are shopping malls every several blocks.

Still, there are lots of Western influences, as well as excellent rock and roll radio stations. Buddy Holly, the Texas Playboys and lots of other early rock bands originated here. We looked at the memorabilia in the Buddy Holly Center on the outskirts of downtown in a building converted from an old train station.

One of the largest influences, however, is Christianity. Churches of every size and type line the streets, in residential and commercial areas. The impact can be felt in hotels where prayer meetings are scheduled, around town where people wear silver belt buckles and t-shirts with crosses on them and in the discussions among people even in public places. It's the buckle of the Bible Belt.

The Cowboy Church is one of the most unique of the Christian locations. Located on the outskirts of town, the rustic corrugated metal building was formerly a meth lab that was converted into a church for those in the horse trade. Large enough for horses to enter, it has a rustic wood paneled wall, homemade stained glass and a logo with a cowboy hat and a boot on it. The church attracts a wide variety of people -- not only cowboys -- and serves a large group of AA and NA members.

At a birthday party there two nights ago, we heard testimony, sang songs and ate Texas "Bar-B-Q." A film about the life of the "Western Gentleman" and preacher Bud Miller was a piece of nostalgia and a heartfelt salute. His son is one of the founding members of the church.

The friendliness, hospitality and good spirit of the people here will carry with us on the rest of our journey -- we're on to Albuquerque now.

Mental Snapshots From A Move

Yvonne and I in the snow on the Anastasio's deck

Here we are in Lubbock, Texas, nearly two weeks since Andy and I began the whole moving process, from farewell events to mind-numbing packing to driving across country with our golden retriever, Lucky. My mind is swimming with a mixture of bittersweet memories and comic moments, and along with weariness from being on the road, I am filled with gratitude toward our wonderful friends who kept us buoyed up through the whole process.

Here are a few of them:

• Cooking chili for 100 with the help of several of St. Nicholas' elves for the annual Christmas fair at Trinity;
• Running outside to check out the first snow of the year at our going-away party at Katy and Ed's house and sharing laughs with so many friends that night;
• Being overwhelmed by receiving the Trinity Cross from my beloved church in Northport, and from the shower of affection and gifts;
• Sharing an incredible goodbye dinner made by our friends Phil and Barbara;
  
• Packing with the help of friends, especially our Guardian Angel Maggie, who directed and organized the effort;
• Moving the couch to my son's friend's house with Jack's help and organizing the garage so that it would be put away safely until there was room in the house;
• Watching Maggie climb to the top of the mattresses in the POD that we were packing to squeeze in another item on top, then body surfing her way down with our help;
• Sitting down to Chinese food with the group of moving helpers at our dining room table, joining hands and saying a prayer of thanks for friends and God's blessings during this whole ordeal;
• Carrying the coffee table that had been damaged in the last move up the steep, long driveway to the curb with Roxanne and stopping midway to sit on it and rest, talking about all of the movie nights we spent with our feet on it, eating popcorn and picking apart the films;
• Following Bob as he returned the U-Haul rental truck that he used to move the big screen TV and then a lot of furniture that was to be picked up, and seeing a brilliant Oriole in the trees across the street as I waited to take him home;
• Closing the POD for the last time after an exhausting five days and heading on the road in the car filled with luggage and extras, J.D., Andy and Lucky;
• Driving through the winter wonderland of Pennsylvania a day after an ice storm had passed, trees covered with ice for miles;
• Arriving on Columbus, Ohio's empty streets late at night, dragging ourselves into the hotel and to our room, climbing into bed, stiff from the drive, bruised and cut from the move, but so happy to be in that Westin room that we all sighed in unison -- even the dog;
• Stopping at a rest stop in Indiana and watching Lucky sniff a snowman someone had made;
• Arriving in Dupo, IL at my parents' house and going out to dinner with my brother Scott, his wife and twin daughters, and their delight in playing with my brother Nick;
• Watching an ice storm from the safety of my parent's house the morning after our arrival;
  
• Going to a chiropractor where a man in a tuxedo played Christmas songs on a portable keyboard, Santa greeted children and food and drink were served in a party atmosphere;
• Driving through Tulsa in the rain and fog and stopping at a Cherokee trading post along the way;
• Passing a wrecked semi-truck and trailer on the foggy road, and seeing the light reflect off of the silver angel icon from Maggie hanging from the rearview mirror;
• Arriving in Lubbock late at night, thinking we'd left things behind in Tulsa, but finding everything in the last bag we checked;
• Praying over lunch with Bud and Betty of Bible.com today, preparing for the Cowboy Church party tonight by buying cowboy boots and a silver-buckled belt.

That's it for now....

Moving Madness & Other Stresses

It's been madness around here for the past few days, both indoors and out.

Outside, a tree crew was on its third day of cutting down and grinding up every single tree on the property at the new owner's behest, and there are a lot of trees to massacre. I was almost able to tune out the whine of chainsaws after a while, but then the construction crew came to work in the backyard, sawing wood and hammering it in as they build the deck adjacent to the beach stairs.

Indoors, not to be outdone, I've been shredding years' worth of financial documents to rid us of the paper monster we've been lugging around. I will be happy when every bill comes over the internet and I can simply print out the summaries for tax purposes. On top of that, the plumber came today after we endured two days with no working drain for the upstairs tub/shower -- and it sounded like he was drilling out pipes and beating them for good measure. He roto-rootered the main water discharge pipe downstairs, an effort which was louder than the saws outside.

In a word, it was DEAFENING.

So when I was packing up boxes of books and I came across Thoreau, it seemed the appropriate thing to read after a miserable day of contact with overbearing, loud humanity. Walt Whitman's contemporary. A man in a cabin far away from the madding crowd. He was so far away that it was quiet enough to hear his own thoughts. Maybe even hear God speaking to him. Here are some of his thoughts that resonated with me today:

"The millions are awake enough for physical labor; but only one in a million is awake enought for effective intellectual exertion, only one in a hundred millions to a poetic or divine life. To be awake is to be alive. I have never yet met a man who was quite awake. How could I have looked him in the face?"

"...I would fain improve every opportunity to wonder and worship, as a sunflower welcomes the light. The more thrilling, wonderful, divine objects I behold in a day, the more expanded and immortal I become. If a stone appeals to me and elevates me, tells me how many miles I have come, how many remain to travel -- and the more, the better -- reveals the future to me in some measure, it is a matter of private rejoicing."

When we move to the Prescott, Arizona area, we will initially live in the mountainous area of the Prescott National Forest, which is the largest Ponderosa Pine forest in the world. It is quiet, beautiful and tranquil. The days are sunny and the nights are cold this time of year, but you can see the stars like sequins sparkling on black velvet at night. I very much look forward to being there.