Tipping Point in Book Club Communications

The typical humor expressed at a Fort Salonga Book Club meeting.

Photo of Fort Salonga Book Club members at the October 2008 meeting at my house. (L) Marie, Lene, AnnaMarie, Yvonne, Judy, Chris, Linda, Jane and Kathy. (Some were late.)

Photo includes stuffed animal in a basket of baby books we surprised Chris with to celebrate the arrival of her granddaughter.

Last night I "met" with the Fort Salonga Book Club in New York, which I've been a member of for 20 years. Well, at least in a virtual way.

They didn't have a webcam, so they had to make do looking at a webcam image of me and listening to me on a speakerphone. It was a good discussion, though a tad frustrating on my part because I was sitting in an office in Arizona staring at my MacBook, and I couldn't read their faces to determine exactly what they were thinking.

Their laughter, though, warmed my heart.

Our book for January was The Tipping Point, which sparked a lively discussion of recognition and some disagreement and a tiny bit of puzzlement as to how the author, Malcolm Gladwell, separated the "Communicators" from the "Salesmen" and how you put someone in either category.

From a Christian point of view, the one observation he'd made about how churches propagate rang true -- the power of 150. In the chapter, he relates how organizations fare well until the number of people exceeds 150 -- then communication breaks down. In churches, the ability to keep the central congregation at that level or smaller is important for fostering loyalty. That's megachurches have always understood, and why they regularly promote participation in small groups that embrace people of different backgrounds.

One point I made had to do with online social networking "tipping" the election in President Obama's favor early on. Upon later reflection, though, I think the real tipping point in his election was his endorsement by Oprah, which introduced him to millions of older Americans.

It was fun to listen to everyone's opinions, fueled in part by wine, even though I was only drinking water because I'm on a strict nutritional regimen at the moment. This was our group's "tipping point" in using technology, because nothing like that had been tried before. Maybe next month someone will have found a webcam and figured out how to enlarge the video screen (drag out the triangle next time, Jane) and we will have reached another milestone.

Memories Buried in the Past

During my wanderings on the property here in Cherry Creek, I've come across two headstones that cropped up out of soil, barely noticeable behind outbuildings. Cherry has a cemetery nearby that's been in place since the 1860s, but for some strange reason these souls found their final resting place here.

One headstone was for former owners Frank and Sarah Stevens. I thought it odd that they were only 50 and 46 respectively, and died the same day. Betty explained to me that they were victims of a buggy accident. In light of how rough the roads still are, it's a distinct possibility that a buggy that hit a big rut could overturn -- and if it had been further down the road on the hairpin curves with clifflike edges, that would be all she wrote. Walt Whitman wrote about "Omnibus" accidents, in which large coaches like trolley cars being pulled by teams of horses occasionally crashed into each other in Manhattan. Death and mayhem often ensued.

The other headstone was for a soldier, Francis Biffar, who'd been encamped in the area to prevent Indian raids. Apache and Yavapai Indians occasionally decided to attack the miners and farmers in the area, take their food and horses and even kill them if they were in a really bad mood that week. So the military was sent in for a couple of decades to minimize these events. This soldier, however, died of natural causes from an unidentified disease. I thought it sad that he was a New York native whose family apparently didn't have the interest or money to claim his body. Or he had no family, which was also the harsh reality for many.

My brother forwarded an email to me recently which described life during the period the three had lived in the area. It throws into sharp relief how soft and easy our lives are in comparison. Here it is, with a few edits -- there were too many exclamation points!!!

The year is 1908. One hundred years ago:

The average life expectancy was 47 years.

Only 14 percent of the homes had a bathtub.

Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.

There were only 8,000 cars and only 144 miles of paved roads.

The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.

The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower.

The average wage was 22 cents per hour.

The average worker made between $200 and $400 per year .

A competent accountant could expect to earn $2,000 per year, a dentist $2,500 per year, a veterinarian between $1,500 and $4,000 per year, and a mechanical engineer, $5,000 per year.

More than 95 percent of all births took place at home .

Ninety percent of all doctors had NO COLLEGE EDUCATION! Instead, they attended so-called medical schools, many of which were condemned in the press AND the government as "substandard."

Sugar cost 4 cents a pound. Eggs were 14 cents a dozen. Coffee was 15 cents a pound.

Most women only washed their hair once a month, and used Borax or egg yolks for shampoo.

Canada passed a law that prohibited poor people from entering into their country for any reason.

Five leading causes of death were:
1. Pneumonia and influenza
2. Tuberculosis
3. Diarrhea
4. Heart disease
5. Stroke

The American flag had 45 stars..

The Las Vegas population: 30.

Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and iced tea hadn't been invented yet.

There was no Mother's Day or Father's Day.

Two out of every 10 adults couldn't read or write.

Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated from high school.

Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at the local corner drugstores. Back then pharmacists said, "Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health."

Eighteen percent of households had at least one full-time servant or domestic help.

There were about 230 reported murders in the ENTIRE United States.

Now I forwarded this from someone else without typing it myself, and sent it to you and others all over Canada and the United States, possibly the world, in a matter of seconds! Try to imagine what the means of communication might be like in another 100 years.

'Welcome to Paradise' Highlights Modern Challenges

The story of a woman minister who struggles with church hierarchy, a new town and congregation, and life as a single mother of a teenage son, the film Welcome to Paradise is a 2007 film that was recommended by Netflix, based on my rental history.

For once, they got it right.

The movie delivered a better story than I expected, terrific acting (Brian Dennehy's a pro) and a top-notch production values, proving once again that the quality of Christian films is almost at the "A" level. I say almost, because the writing was less than stellar in a couple of scenes. For instance, the gay character was stereotypically gay, and his character's situation could have been expressed in one line of dialogue, instead of having him wear lipstick and mince around. The other problem was a scene near the end that was a bit too neat, but the actress playing it did her best to make it work.

The church is unnamed in the film, but one of the "bad" guys is a minister of a large church who dislikes Rev. Debbie Laramie's upbeat style, and her refusal to put the budget before the needs of the congregation. The Bishop (played by Ken Jenkins of Scrubs fame) is the final arbiter of what happens to her, which makes me think that an Episcopal church inspired this story. Since smaller Episcopal churches are fighting for survival all over the country (not to mention some larger ones), the story rings true.

The most amazing performance was by Beth Grant, who usually plays an uptight witch in mass market films, immediately recognizable as the beauty pageant coordinator in Little Miss Sunshine, and the judgmental Christian mother/meddler in Donnie Darko. In this film, she plays a homeless woman who is down on her luck after her husband's medical bills caused her to lose everything. Her performance was affecting and heartfelt. This is one not to miss.

The website for the film promotes a sequel called Christmas in Paradise. I'd see it in a heartbeat.

Coyotes Howl and Skies Are Not Cloudy All Day

A Red-Naped Sapsucker drills on a tree by the cabin.

Last night I was awakened by the piercing howl of a coyote near the bedroom window. Although Andy slept through it because he was wearing headphones, I know I wasn't dreaming. This morning I found droppings. Also, I'd thrown out rancid meat earlier that might have acted as a lure.

Anyway, the coyote howled and yipped and another one called back to him in the distance. After about five or ten minutes of this, he went on his way. Lucky did nothing, which I found hard to believe, and the eerieness of having this experience all by my lonesome made it hard to go back to sleep.

I bought a book on the birds of the area after chasing a covey of quail for a photo to no avail. I've also heard wild turkeys gobbling in the morning, but I've never been able to spot one. The creek that runs about 500 yards away attracts all of God's creatures in this area. Among them, I've seen eagles, hawks and an owl. Usually they fly off so quickly that it's hard to tell exactly what genus they are, but I have a pair of binoculars and I am hopeful. Memo to self: get up early and bring the camera. Maybe if I planted myself behind a bush I'd be able to capture something wild and unaware.

The one bird I was able to shoot, and varieties of which can be heard like mad carpenters all over the forest, was a kind of woodpecker. According to my Birds of Arizona Field Guide -- which the Barnes & Noble clerk told me was the most popular book sold in Prescott -- it's a male Red-Naped Sapsucker. They're attracted to aspen, willow and cottonwood trees, (the latter of which I think is what it's boring into.) They bore far enough to lap up the sap (no, they don't suck) and the insects it attracts.

The bird looked at me as I took the photo and went back to work. It was at it again today, despite on-again, off-again rain. At least the sun came out for a while -- it never seems to be gloomy all day. Yet another blessing of living here.

Obama Heralds A New Day in America

Yesterday I took an Obama Day, listening to the inauguration on the radio as I drove back through the mountains. Once back, I unpacked boxes as the DISH TV satellite guy installed the lines and dish -- then I watched the parade and festivities amid the mess.

My friend Kim called at 6:30 a.m. (she forgot the time difference) and told me she was taking an Obama Day where she lives in the Detroit area -- the parties were ongoing. Since it was my birthday, I figured I was entitled to an Obama Day, too. It's the first time I'm the same age as the president.

It's a glorious new day of openness and truth -- let us rejoice and be glad
in it. The White House has a new website, which features a blog (official presidential photo above). The site still has problems, but I'm sure it will rock when it's done.

Here are CNN highlights of the inauguration.

Weekend of Grace with Friends in Phoenix

Andy and Lucky work by the pool at the Schmidt's house in Scottsdale.

Gorgeous weather, spiritual events and football play-offs kept us in the Scottsdale/Phoenix area for a long weekend, which will continue through tomorrow as Andy goes to a doctor appointment, and then we celebrate my birthday.

The weekend started Friday as we attended a religious rally at a megachurch called City of Grace in suburban Mesa. I've never been to anything quite like it, as the speakers were evangelical ministers who "prophesy" about what God has shown them. Suffice it to say that I enjoyed the Christian rock music played by a band with guitarists, a keyboard player and a drummer, as well as the discussion of scripture. The prophecies? Not so much.

It's not that I don't believe it's possible, I just don't think a lot of it is useful -- and the political angle of some of it was a big turn-off. Jesus steered clear of politics, and with the exception of general moral principles, I think Christian leaders should do the same.

On Saturday, we met with friends and sponsors of Christ Unlimited and discussed the future of the website and the impact of social networking in the future. Lots of exciting ideas are in the offing.

Today, Sunday, I worshiped with our friends Dennis and Lisa Schmidt, with whom we're staying, at Scottsdale Bible Church. Like City of Grace, it is on a "campus" with multiple buildings and a large auditorium for the main worship service. Also like City of Grace, the service is beamed onto large video screens and the music has a modern feel, with a rock band accompanied by a full orchestra. The chorus is comprised of 60 people. It has the feel of a slick production.

The churches, however, have an approach that involves smaller organized groups that meet for study and fellowship prior to the main service, and once a week in each other's homes. These churches are so large that they cater to just about any group's needs, from divorce support groups to men's support groups to shelter/halfway house assistance groups, to single parent groups, etc., etc., etc. These churches have enormous budgets to match their size -- more than $15 million for the Scottsdale Bible Church.

One oft-repeated joke I heard at both the Firm Foundation meeting (for couples) as well as at the main service, was that Eagles were not the "ordained" bird of the day, but rather that Cardinals were the blessed bird, since the Cardinals football team was in the Super Bowl play-offs against the Philadelphia Eagles.

After the services and a delicious brunch, we spent most the afternoon outside enjoying the weather, with the football game on in the background. When the Cardinals scored their winning touchdown, we could hear the cheers outside from others in their backyards who were doing the same thing. I don't know if the win was part of God's plan or not, but the Cardinals' quarterback Kurt Warner gave God the credit for their success, so that's good enough for me on this beautiful Sunday.

Views of Cherry Creek Along the Stagecoach Trail

Cherry Creek was built along what used to be a stagecoach trail, and it still feels that way in some areas. "Rustic" is one way of describing the dirt roads, which have about 5 miles on paving on the area that used to be the roughest, and which would wash out any time it rained. I was told that one couple managed to keep the state from paving the entire road by protesting and filing lawsuits. Now that the husband is dead and the wife is in a nursing home, there are no state funds to do any paving.

The mountains around Cherry Creek prior to snowfall are aswirl in clouds. Here's the view adjacent to the Christ Unlimited offices.

Every day the view is different going up and coming down the mountains, according to the light, time of day and weather conditions. This shot was taken on a clear day, heading toward Prescott.


Sometimes when I'm driving up the mountains toward Cherry Creek, I see homesteader's abodes, off the grid, which have their own water tanks and solar electricity. Here's a shot I got of a house you can only see from a stretch of the road for about 30 seconds. If you look at the previous photo, you can see another house in the far right corner, or at least the water tank. I have yet to meet any of our "neighbors," but in the Spring everyone comes for the Pioneer Day gathering at the firehouse across the street from us, so that should be an interesting experience.

Just looking at the mountains every day brings a feeling of peace that some people must find more important than maintaining a lawn, paved roads and cable TV. (OK, you can get satellite. Barely.)

Born for Chaos, Order

"You know, Nietzsche said out of chaos comes order."
"Ah, blow it out your ass, Howard."
-- From the film Blazing Saddles

After moving boxes and furniture all day with the help of two young men who are brothers, Daniel and Reuben, I can say we created some order out of chaos, for what that's worth. I guess because moving is such mind-numbing work, I kept drifting back to Mel Brooks' dialogue. Now in my exhaustion, this is all I can write.

One more note about Esther -- the phrase "born for such a time as this" comes from that book in the Bible. Mel Brooks has a similar line in his films The Twelve Chairs, To Be or Not To Be and History of the World, Part I, and possibly others: "Born to do it." The comedic version of the phrase, I guess.

Anticipating the Inauguration

My mailbox is filling up with missives to do with the inauguration and events preceding and anticipating it. Here are two worth noting -- and a link to a story that's related.

I received a message from Michelle Obama touting a national volunteer day on January 19th called "Renew America Together." It's an attempt to set the tone for national service prior to Obama's seating as President. Here's a link for the video and more information.

Here's a link about how Obama is going to invoke God during his swearing in as president -- in spite of the efforts of an atheist group to prevent it.

Another email came from an evangelical group that annointed and prayed over the entrance to the Capitol Building, through which President-Elect Obama will pass on his way to being sworn in. Here's the link to the video.

Here's the text of the email from the leader of the group called Faith And Action:

"Some doors only Heaven can open.

That was the case yesterday when I was prompted by the Holy Spirit to do something that in my mind I knew could not be accomplished. When we notified the Capitol Hill police of our intentions they told us in no uncertain terms we would be arrested for our actions. Yet, in obedience to what I knew to be a divine prompting, I proceeded, along with my colleague, Rev. Pat Mahoney of the Christian Defense Coalition, to the Capitol Building …and there experienced a miracle.

It just so happened (as it so often does for people of faith), when we entered the Capitol complex we met Congressman Paul Broun of Georgia , in the hallway. Congressman Broun is a dynamic and unapologetic Christian. I told him what God had prompted me to do. He immediately agreed and joined me, along with Rev. Mahoney and our chief of staff, Peggy Birchfield, as together we held a prayer service inside the US Capitol that included anointing the doorway President-Elect Barack Obama will pass through on his way to the platform to be sworn in as the 44th president of the United States on January 20th.

To see this brief but powerful prayer and anointing service, please click here.

Anointing with oil is a rich tradition both in the Bible and in the history of the US Capitol. Oil symbolizes consecration, or setting something apart for God's use. George Washington used oil during the dedication of the US Capitol. We used the oil to set apart the walkway and doors that will be the literal right-of-passage for Barack Obama as he ascends to the highest office in our land. Bear in mind this is one of the most cordoned off and highly secured sites in America . It is virtually inaccessible. Yet, there we were, holding a consecration service in obedience to God – the very thing He had placed in my heart.

Rep. Broun delivered a short sermon-like talk on the need to obey God and His will, and for the future president to do what is right. I read Bible passages and applied sacred oil to the doorposts of the arched doorway leading out of the Capitol and onto the inaugural stage, immediately in front of the riser where Obama will stand with Chief Justice John Roberts who will administer the Oath of Office. Rev. Mahoney read a powerful inaugural prayer by Dr. Billy Graham, delivered 40 years ago.

Congressman Broun referred to the location of the prayer service as "the doorway that (President-Elect Obama) will enter through to start of his presidency."

That doorway has now been consecrated and anointed for the purposes of God.

You and your friends, family, and fellow church members can now join us in prayer for our nation and the transition to a new administration by simply watching the video and praying with us.

The more people who watch this video, the more powerful it becomes. That’s why we also need you to forward it on to as many people as possible.

If Christians across the nation will join together in prayer, I know God will “hear from Heaven and heal our land.”

Please watch this amazing video yourself by clicking here and then forward it on to your family, friends, and fellow church members so together we can raise our voices to God on behalf of our nation in an act of repentance and dedication.

Your missionary to our nation’s leaders,
Rob Schenck"

Different, Yet the Same Service

Every Episcopal church uses the same playbook, so to speak, but there are infinite variations in how the service is conducted, which parts are sung or spoken, and even in which prayers are used. Communion takes place kneeling at a rail, but some churches frown on self-intincture of the Communion wafer into the wine, others don't care.

St. Luke's is a rather laid-back, large Episcopal church. It has a 21-member choir and a host of support staff in a deacon and two retired priests. I enjoyed the service, even if I found it challenging to follow initially, and talked with a greeter and others afterward. People were friendly. Unfortunately, like most churches, the population skews uniformly toward retirement age.

Still, it made me yearn for the small, comfortable and lovely church I am accustomed to, Trinity of Northport. Time will heal that wound, I am sure, but it will take time.

After dinner with Bud and Betty tonight, we began talking about the story of Esther in the Bible and how those who intend to inflict harm on others almost always find themselves in the position of having to fend off the very thing they are wishing on others. Hoisted by their own petard, or in this case, Haman was hung on the gallows built for Mordecai. (Betty noted that the kingdom of Shushan, the capital of what later became Persia, now Iran, was identified by description in an archeological dig, with a floor made of red, blue, black and white marble.)

We also discussed the scripture of the day regarding John the Baptist. Betty interpreted that when he questioned whether Jesus was the messiah, he sealed his own fate -- having his head cut off. If he instead had retained his faith and continued praising the Lord, he would have been unharmed and released, like Paul and Silas were from their prison when God caused an earthquake to open the doors (Acts 16:26). As Betty put it, we can be released from all prisons, as long as we keep our faith and praise God.

We also talked about how the son of a Hamas founder has become a born-again Christian living in California, and how he has renounced Islam. He discovered Christ while he was imprisoned for terrorism -- and was astounded by His teachings on turning the other cheek and fighting evil with good. Now he is a political refugee from the Palestinian state. If he keeps his new faith, he could be a positive influence in the world.

A Vision From George Washington, As Reported

Today I read the latest Wired magazine from cover to cover and was disappointed that most of the stories were about machines that less than 1% of the population could buy (personal 2-person jet anyone?). Others were about a high-profile hacker, the umpteenth profile of Steve Jobs, high-tech farming -- with genetically modified seeds and a buttload of chemicals -- and a story on early cancer detection that taught me that only 8% of National Cancer Institute funds are spent on early detection methods. So if you can afford to pay for your own CT screening, you may have a better shot at survival.

Then I decided to go back to reading something more hopeful.

In the evangelical newsletter I was lent earlier this week, I saw a headline about a vision that George Washington had as he fought the American Revolution. Unlike today, when stories about angels appearing and spontaneously healing little girls barely warrant a blip on the news radar, the newspaper of his era made it front-page news. It appeared in print in 1880 in the National Tribune, among other newspapers. Somehow it never made it into the history books, though. Go figure. Wesley Bradshaw, Washington's aide, wrote the account after speaking with Washington at Valley Forge. He said Washington's face was pale and shining, and Bradshaw asked him if something was wrong.

Washington told him about a visit from an angel, and how he had a vision of America and Europe joining together across the ocean and becoming allies. He then had a vision of "a specter" rising up from Africa and then spreading over every town and city. The inhabitants were expected to eventually become united. The third and last vision involved death in Europe, Asia and Africa. In the last vision, America is under attack from most countries, but is saved by divine intervention. Many of the visions have come true, if you interpret the specter to be AIDS, for instance. But the last one in which a U.N.-like entity saves the country, is obviously yet to happen. I can only speculate that it refers to a World War III that is yet to come.

Here's the full account, which is in the Library of Congress. (The blogger says it's a fraud; I'd have to research the National Tribune reference to confirm the account's validity, which I probably won't bother doing. Take it for what it's worth.)

Great Film Leaves No 'Doubt'

Meryl Streep and Phillip Seymour Hoffman both deserve Oscars for Doubt, a searing portrayal of a head nun and a priest at loggerheads with each other.

The writer, John Patrick Shanley of Moonstruck fame, tackles the Catholic Church back in the days when priests could do no wrong, Kennedy was their patron saint and the Pope was modern-ish, if only for a moment.

Oh how far the Catholic church has fallen since then, and the reasons why are woven into the fabric of the film. Streep's beady-eyed stare, snorts of derision and brisk manner are a stunning contrast to her ex-hippie inn operator who belts out songs in Mamma Mia. Talk about a role reversal! She never fails to amaze, amuse and please. She hasn't been this mean since she played the ersatz Anna Wintour role in The Devil Wears Prada. Hoffman is completely believable as a priest, and plays his role with delicacy and gravitas.

Bravo, bravo.

Fiery Visions, Fictional Gospel Illuminate Ideas

Today when I was out in the world again, I stopped at a Starbucks and picked up the first paper copy of The New York Times I’ve read in almost a month. It was a real pleasure to turn the pages and see the photos in their full size. Even though I know newspapers will inevitably fade away, I hope that it doesn’t happen in my lifetime.

As usual, the paper was filled with stories that play in my mind like the crescendo in a thriller or the deep chords in a horror film. China is preparing to stop buying U.S. debt. India is facing its Enron in the Satyam scandal. Europe is entering the recession that began in the United States a year ago. The House Budget Committee Chairman was stunned at news that the deficit will reach more than $1 trillion.

A few signs of cultural acquiescence to the plunging economy appear in stories about toned down hairstyles for the Oscars and how people are saving money in the high tech arena by canceling cable and satellite and watching TV on their PCs. (It’s called rearranging the chairs on the Titanic.) I imagine that the Times, which recently announced that it will accept ads on Page 1 for the first time in its history, does not have any satellite or cable company ads to speak of that it worries it will lose.

Imagine the juxtaposition of my reading between a Times review on a novel called The Fire Gospel and reading some fiery prose about the "End Times" in a newsletter passed on to me called The Revival Call.

The novel describes the hapless discoverer of a Fifth gospel telling of Jesus’ life by a guy briefly mentioned for having his ear cut off (Malchus) who relays embarrassing details of the Crucifixion and his own frailties. The author, Michel Faber, exhibits the overwhelmingly European blasé perspective on religion and its weaknesses in the hands of those who believe. Faber, who was Dutch-born, grew up in Australia and now lives in Scotland, creates a scenario in the discoverer of the gospel, who writes about it, then is attacked by religious people for revealing it. They believe it is a fraud because its theme diminishes the holiness of Christ and shows him to be too human. The book’s theme is timely, to be sure, as spinmeisters warp the truth to shape ideas for their own purposes. I would have to read the book to judge whether or not the tone is as cynical as I suspect it is. The Times review, however, is not very encouraging.

The newsletter, on the other hand, analyzes every current event through the prism of the world coming to an end. If you believe everything written in the Bible, you will know that no one can predict the Apocalypse. Even John confirms it in Revelation. But the testimony is rather compelling from one of those who claimed to have had visions in 1973 that could be coming true:

“I saw coins stacked high in rows, American money. These coins were swiftly being marked with a strange sign. A seal came down on each coin…the Lord showed me…there was a curse on the money systems of the world.

“I saw our daily newspaper…it consisted of only four pages…and was very heavily censored…

“I saw our big factories closed…I saw government officials filled with dismay, shaking their heads…I saw a large schoolroom in one of our great institutes of learning. The room was cold…only a few students….

“In the homes I saw electricity shortages, and water would be rationed for certain hours of the day. The water that flowed from our taps was impure and dangerous for drinking.

“I saw the mass evacuation of big cities…

“I saw great religious organizations crumbling…

“There will be a great breakthrough in psychic and supernatural science…

“I saw again the table full of money and I saw a big hand come down and wipe the whole thing off the table, cleaning off the table with one swoop. God seemed to show me through this that everything that is built or planned or done through materialistic inspiration would be ended in that day. Let the wise read and understand.”

'Outliers' Explains Formulas For Success

From the first few pages of the book Outliers, I've been completely engrossed in learning about the ingredients that allow people to succeed -- and few of them have anything to do with innate talent or ability.

I heard Malcolm Gladwell on NPR talking about the book some months ago, which intrigued me, but after reading the first chapter, I found the book incredibly compelling in its thesis: that the people or groups of people who succeed far beyond the norm are aided by circumstance and environment more than anything else.

The first example of the Roseto effect describes a Pennsylvania town in which heart disease is practically non-existent in a time during the '60s when 60 percent of American males were stricken by it. After a researcher exhaustively interviewed and analyzed the residents, he found that the overwhelmingly Italian culture, dating back three generations, and its internal support system, had everything to do with the health of its residents. Also, the many charitable and fraternal organizations, as well as a church that was the center of the town's culture, gave the residents a stability and contentment that eliminated stress and lent itself to healthy living.

From the 10,000-hour rule (how long it takes to master something), to generational shifts to socio-economic advantage, the book provides fascinating explanations for the successes of such people as the Beatles, Bill Gates and Steve Jobs.

I'm still reading this engaging book, but I think is even better than Gladwell's other bestsellers, The Tipping Point and Blink.

Pilgrim's Progress: Setting Goals in the New Year

Now that the satellite and doctor challenges have been solved, we're on to making plans for the year. Andy's plate is overflowing with his own company's work and projects for Christ Unlimited. In a meeting with Bud and Betty Miller, who head the non-profit organization, we discussed an array of things that need to get done in just the coming month.

While I have my own writing goals, I'm looking forward to playing a role in producing videos for them -- their Web 2.0 version of the site -- and in learning how to write grants through tutoring from a professional grant writer who works for a non-profit with which they're associated.

As for Lucky, he's learning how to hunt quail on the property. We heard the birds one morning outside of the bedroom window, and when we looked out there was a covey of Mountain Blues running by. When they saw Lucky's head pop in the window, they took off. I've been trying to get photos of them, but they've been hiding in the high grasses next door. (Photo is from Google Images.) Soon, I'm sure I'll catch them off-guard, if Lucky doesn't scare them off first. He chased them off again today...

Keeping Abraham's Faith in a New Place

It seems that just about everyone who lives in Arizona is from somewhere else, except for the young people. That makes it easy to blend in, and easy to solicit information and advice. People here are genuinely friendly and eager to help. I’ve never gotten so much help at stores before. At Best Buy the other day, four people asked me if I needed help, and every grocery store has a packer along with a checker.

This travel to a strange place resonated with me when I read the book Abraham, about the father of monotheism, and the first person to form a lasting covenant with God. God’s main requirement of him was to travel to a strange place and eventually to settle in God’s chosen land. Abraham didn’t question it, and risked life, limb and the wrath of his wife Sarah, in doing God’s bidding.

Bruce Feiler’s book was on The New York Times bestseller list for at least a year, but I just got around to reading it and finally understanding that story as a three-part archetype story about taking a journey, obeying God and survival under trying circumstances. Feiler interviewed a slew of Biblical and religious scholars and leaders and traveled around Israel to get a real feel for the story.

Abraham's story is also the foundation of three religions – Judaism, Christianity and Islam. The Muslim aspect was unfamiliar to me, and I learned quite a bit about the distinction between the roles of Ishmael and Isaac, and how Muhammad changed the story to suit his cultural needs.

What struck me most, though, was that God required Abraham to leave his father’s home to become his own person – and to rely on God. Going into a harsh desert area with no outside support meant that Abraham had to have faith in God to survive and then thrive, as promised.

So, like Abraham – but with a lot more help – we are strangers in a strange place who will be depending on God to help us find our way and make good choices. Although we don’t have a direct line like Abraham did, we feel our prayers are answered just the same.

Cold Doctors, Sick Satellite System Lead Frustrations

Day Two of the new year was filled with frustration as our hosts from Christ Unlimited fought with Hughes Satellite for internet service over a billing dispute that is entirely the company’s error – for the third month in a row – and we learned we had to go back to the drawing board in finding a doctor for Andy.

It was the opposite of Day One, which was peaceful and harmonious. Andy continues to recuperate from the flu. The color is finally back into his face and he is eating regularly, if only small amounts.

Friday began with a call from the office of the pain doctor Andy had contacted more than two months earlier, sent records and a referral from his primary care physician and ensured that they accept his insurance. The medical receptionist informed me that the doctor has decided not to accept him as a patient.

Andy has to have an appointment each month for the 30-day prescriptions, and for the doctor to set the appointment, he has to have qualifying insurance. The Catch-22 is that you can’t get insurance in a new state until you have moved there, and that sometimes takes at least a few days, thereby cutting short the time to set up an appointment, etc. There are only two other pain doctors in Prescott, and neither take his insurance, nor are they appropriate for him, because they specialize in spinal pain.

So back to the drawing board. He has to get a referral from his pain doctor and primary physician back in New York for a doctor that has yet to accept him in Scottsdale. The good news is that his New York pain specialist KNOWS someone from his specialty in Scottsdale with great credentials. Hopefully that will get him in the door sooner rather than later. I’m waiting to find out what this doctor takes before we select health insurance here. There’s also a Mayo clinic in Scottsdale, where we hope to find a Lupus specialist.

In the meantime, Andy will have to go to the Emergency room at the local hospital to continue his prescriptions in time – not a happy solution.

Why would the doctor turn him down at this late date? I suspect he probably didn’t look at his records until he was supposed to meet with him. As one local told us when we relayed the saga, the doctors here do not like to work hard. They come here for the relaxing lifestyle – they leave the stress and hard cases to the doctors in the Big City in Scottsdale/Phoenix.

To be honest, it’s not all that different from Long Island. Andy was never able to find a competent pain specialist who was taking patients on Long Island. He had to go to Manhattan for almost all of his 11 years of treatment in New York, the last three of those years in Queens because his physician opened a branch office there.

Hughes Satellite internet service is quite another matter. It’s a service structure that is built for frustration. Betty has the names of 17 people she has dealt with since the fiasco began three months ago. First they put in the wrong equipment, which had to be swapped out, then they billed them for $980 instead of $180. Resolving the situation requires battling up the ranks of customer service reps, who work from remote locations, and who only pass Betty on to the main office when all else fails. All else has failed each month.

At first Betty got nowhere until she involved American Express in the billing dispute the first month. It was resolved that month, then began again the second month with a billing screen of death counting down until service was cut off. It was resolved again in month two after multiple phone calls that involved customer service, billing, accounting and a regional manager.

In month three, Betty is praying for patience. She has a kind and loving nature that makes it possible to get through to the customer reps, but there is no collective memory of anything, which makes it likely that the computer system that’s used in customer service is poorly designed and the cause of the ultimate problem. She asked for written documentation of what had occurred at the company after the first incident, and was told that they record the calls. When the second incident occurred, she asked them to review the recorded calls. It took a few days for the rep to get back to her and tell her that they couldn’t find the recordings. When she again asked for documentation after the second incident was resolved, they claimed that it was their policy not to put it in writing.

Yesterday, she finally got through to a regional customer service rep to restore the service. Half an hour later, the billing screen of death appeared again. (I'm sending this from an internet cafe.)

Betty has acquired the name of the president of the company, and she’s not afraid to use it. I predict that next week she’ll see some real action. Finally.

Clocks, Watches and Time as Life Nears End

I woke up this morning thinking about time, because when I looked at the clock in the cabin, it was 8:30 a.m. The clock had been stopped at that time, until Andy replaced the battery. But it was actually 8:30. It made me think of clocks and watches and time as a new year dawns.

Last year my father became acutely aware of his mortality when his doctors told him there was no more they could do for him now that his body has stopped absorbing protein. He has been on dialysis for five years with a failing liver and kidneys, and has outlived their expectations for him by more than six years.

So in my first visit with him in 2008 back in March, he wanted to give my son a watch, one of the ones from his long career as a railroad engineer. I should add that he has three sons in addition to me, and three watches, but he gave J.D., the only grandson, first choice of the watches.

One was a 50-year anniversary token from the Union Pacific railroad. It was a wristwatch with 14-carat gold inlay and a tiny train that went around the face, encrusted with a sapphire and a ruby. The other was a commemorative 25-year watch made of silver with a handsome face and the logo of the Missouri Pacific railroad, (which was bought by the Union Pacific). The third was his working watch, a gold watch on a chain that has to be wound by hand, and which bears the wear of years of use. It is worn in spots, has a dent on the back where it was dropped and a scratch on the face. The blocky letters are from another era.

My son chose the worn watch, which surprised his grandfather. He asked him if he was sure. He said, "Yes." He gave the watch for me to hold for him until he is on his own and has a secure place for it.

To me the watch symbolizes all of the memories of my father coming home from work, winding the watch. It was the closest object to his heart for most of his life.

Watching J.D. select it for me was like watching the scene in the film Indiana Jones and the Holy Grail. When they are in the chamber of the Holy Grail, the crook picks the most elaborate and ornate cup, thinking that's what the King of kings would have drunk from -- and he instantly turns into a screaming corpse, then dust. Indiana picks the most humble chalice, drinks from the eternal waters, and saves his father with the holy water.

J.D. picked the watch with history, with work written on it and with the blessings of his grandfather. I was never prouder of him.

My father has survived to see another year, and I have seen him twice since that passing of the watch. When I stayed in my childhood home on the trip here, I got to spend time just holding his hand and talking. It is hard for him to hear, and hard to talk because he thinks and moves so slowly. He is winding down like that watch after days of not being wound. Formerly an active man, the indignities he suffers are many now, including being forced to wear an adult diaper at night, and being unable to stand long or walk for very far.

I tried to cheer him up, encouraging him to come and visit us here in Arizona. He seemed doubtful. The dialysis could be arranged here, but my Mother doesn't travel well -- or really at all. I suggested coming with my brother Nick as an option. I pray that it happens, and that he sees the light of God before the clock stops.