This video from Tom Ayling, an antiquarian bookseller, is delightful, if a bit sad. I think you’ll appreciate it too.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
The Viking road to Brainerd
Tomorrow (Saturday, Aug. 10) I plan to be (God willing) among the Vikings at the Crow Wing Viking Festival in Brainerd, Minnesota. More information here.
I will have books to sell, and may be persuaded to sign them for you if you ask nicely.
Silver, livestock and thralls will be accepted in payment.
What To Do with a Dragon Hoard?
With all the dragons in new fantasy stories today, I hope young readers haven’t been shielded from their traditional setting. The picture of a dragon hoarding treasure under a mountain is a classic depiction of greed.
The beast is at the top of the food chain. It can destroy whole kingdoms if it wanted to. If two dragons were to fight each other, the disaster to their field of battle would be apocalyptic. But a defining quality of a dragon is its hoard. Why does it sleep on a mountain of gold? Why did Smaug care that Bilbo took a cup, and how could he have noticed one cup missing from his trove of treasure? Because that’s what dragons are about. They want all the wealth for themselves, and they are powerful and conceited enough to refuse to allow anyone to slight them.
I was thinking this morning about how some of us tend to use what we have and some of us tend to keep it unused. I’m a keeper. I’ve had my favorite t-shirt for over 20 years because I don’t wear it often. When people ask, “What would you do if we gave you $1000 today,” my first thought is to put it in the bank for the future. Of course, there will be a time to use it, but not today, because if I use it now, I may not have it tomorrow.
I wonder if the idea of a dragon hoard would apply well to those of us who keep to ourselves and take comfort in what we could do tomorrow if the need arose. Maybe all we’re doing is holding on to our wealth, not out of greed but out of pride, fear, and personal comfort.
What else do we have today?
Moon Caves: In the Sea of Tranquility or Mare Tranquillitatis, there’s a 200-foot pit, one of many spotted by satellites orbiting the Moon. Scientists studying the photographs have reason to believe this pit has a cave. Why we aren’t sending people to the Moon by now is likely a political question. The current NASA plan appears to be sending a team around the Moon.
In related news, Space X has been sending astronauts to the International Space Station for a few years. They have a team, Crew-8, at the station now and will send Crew-9 in mid-August.
Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash
Birthday post: Going sane
I’ve loved the song above for a long time. And to my mind, it harmonizes with my theme tonight.
This will be my birthday post (my age is for me to know and you not to care about). In honor of this auspicious occasion, I’m going to break my custom of putting commemorative posts up on the day of the event (so it’s too late) and post it the day before (so you’ll have time to get me a present).
Also because I have something to say that may be significant, and I want to share it. It’s been about three weeks now, and that fact suggests to me that the effects I’m seeing may be permanent.
I believe I’m going sane.
Nobody could be more surprised than I am. Let me tell you about it.
First of all, I think I won’t be surprising anyone when I say that I’ve always been a little… weird. Socially. Depressive. Awkwardly shy. Unable to make eye contact. Easily offended. Not one to pick fights, but one to distance myself, taking refuge in solitude. My great plague has been intrusive thoughts – shameful memories that came into my mind and would not be ignored. I knew of no way to handle them except to face them, experience the full shame, and then try to find something to distract me from them.
This was tremendously tiring for me. In social situations, half my energy got wasted in dealing with those intrusive thoughts. This was how I lived.
Then something happened to me, about three weeks ago.
From the sublime (mine) to the ridiculous (Netflix)
In today’s really important news, my article on the Lutheran Free Church for the Acton Institute’s Religion & Liberty Magazine is now available free online. You can marvel at its awesomeosity at this link.
In even better news, I HAVE FINISHED MY MARATHON SLOG THROUGH THE VIKINGS: VALHALLA SERIES.
It was particularly frustrating watching a series that covered events I’ve researched and dramatized in my own novels, observing how the producers took historical events and characters, shuffled them like cards, and dealt them out in random order. Particularly annoying was their treatment of King Magnus the Good of Norway, who is treated here as a homicidal psychopath. I mean, they called him “the Good” for a reason.
But what’s important is that I can write my article now, with an eventual eye to payment. All through my life, I’ve harkened back to a poem I read somewhere, which went like this (more or less):
There’s a little check at the end of this verse.
I see it just three lines away.
And it shall be mine
For the good of my purse
If luck is my fellow today.
(I’d credit the author, but a web search doesn’t reveal his name, and I can’t find it in the book where I thought I saw it.)
The scourge of yet more ‘Vikings’
“How long, O Lord?” said the prophet (Isaiah 6:11 is a prominent example of the theme, but several prophets asked the same question with – it seems to me – some justification). I am no prophet, nor the son of a prophet (Amos 7:14), but the same question has occurred to me now and then too. Right now I’m wondering how long, O Lord, this “Vikings” series will plague me.
I’m happy to report that I have at last finished all 6 seasons of the History Channel “Vikings” travesty. The longer the thing went on, the more the writers seemed unconstrained by the petty straitjacket of actual facts. Occasionally a historical character shows up, less often a historical event. But they are portrayed in ways the writers must have thought clever (like hand-operated paddlewheel landing craft for an invasion). I have endured all these outrages with the patient endurance of a Christian. And now I find that lo, my travails are not ended. For I’m going to have to go on to watch the sequel, Netflix’s “Vikings: Valhalla” series.
The thing is, the topic I’ve been commissioned to write about is the conversion of the Vikings to Christianity. And it’s not that the original series didn’t deal with the issue – it’s just that they dealt with it in ways that don’t have much to do with my thesis. The Vikings in this series are treated as an ethnic group (which is not what “Viking” originally meant), and they’re all proudly and stubbornly heathen. Christianity has made almost no inroad among them (in this production) by the time of King Alfred the Great’s victory over their armies at Edington. This was not the case in real life. The conflict of faiths is treated here as almost a religious war, which (in my moderately educated opinion) it was not. The Vikings on the series are always talking about their gods as “the true gods.” They didn’t really think that way historically. They were actually more like Hindus, recognizing any god they happened to encounter. They’d be happy to acknowledge the Christian god too, except for His offensive insistence on monotheism.
What I want to write about is the progress of Christianity in Scandinavia itself. I’ve avoided reading much about this new Netflix sequel series, but I understand it involves Jarl Haakon (gender-switched, because of course he/she is), and Harald Hardrada. So they’ve got to touch on my topic.
Therefore, I must gird up my loins for the ordeal.
And I believe I can do this. A couple weeks ago it would have been harder. I’ve always had an irrational and extreme response to watching programs I considered stupid or offensive. Such experiences raised very painful feelings in me.
But in just the last couple weeks, I seem to have made a breakthrough. I’ve found what appears to be a “brain hack” that helps me regulate my emotions better than in the past. I’m not going to go into detail about it now – I want to see whether the effect lasts, and even if it does it may not be applicable to anyone else.
But, like Alfred the Great, I believe I now am equipped to go forth and face the “Vikings.”
Random Norse stuff
The curse of reading long books is that I’m forced to bore you in these posts with the details of my life, which is more than most a mundane one. I go days without talking to anyone, for instance, and it doesn’t bother me at all. Makes for dull reading, though. I am self-aware enough to grasp that.
And yes, I’m still slogging through the Vikings series on Netflix. I’ve found that it helps to hate-watch it. I expect “hate-watch” is even a term people use out in that wide world I’ve heard about – watching a show or series, concentrating on the pleasure of hating everyone involved. Every time a character dies on the series – sympathetic or unsympathetic – I cheer inwardly – “There’s one I won’t have to watch anymore!” One bad haircut and impractical costume that will not offend my eyes henceforth. A few pages of clunky dialogue I’ll be spared.
I’m closing in on the end of the fourth season. Then Season Five has twenty more episodes, apparently. I pray to Heaven I’ll learn enough that’s relevant to my assignment so that I won’t have to move on to Vikings Valhalla, where (according to what I’ve read), they turned Jarl Haakon of Hladir, whom you may remember from The Year of the Warrior and Death’s Doors, into a Strong Black Woman.
When I ponder these matters, I am convicted that our societal sins must have been very great, to merit our hoisting by such a petard as this.
I had a nice surprise today. I got my first invitation in many years to lecture again on a cruise. Not a bad deal either – Iceland and Greenland (where I’d love to go), and they’d spring for my air fare and cut my cruise fee in half. Still, I can’t justify it fiscally, at this point in my pilgrimage. And the booking company shows no signs of further compromise.
Nevertheless, it was nice to be asked. I’d thought they’d forgotten about me completely.
Born on the Fourth of July
Today is not only the anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It is also the birthday of one of our greatest presidents – the only president born on the Fourth – John Calvin Coolidge (1872-1933).
I recently heard a speech by a noted historian – I won’t say who – who took time out of a lecture on an entirely different topic to sneer at Calvin Coolidge. This raised my hackles. Coolidge is one of my favorite presidents. He did exactly what the Constitution requires of a president – as little as possible. He was a model statesman, a modern Cincinnatus (look him up).
He was also famous for being sparing with words, which makes him a model for writers too.
Above, a short and pithy speech from Silent Cal – about freedom and taxation.
And here’s the text of an Independence Day address by Coolidge. I find no fault with it. (Hat tip: Instapundit)
Happy Independence Day!
My evil eye
I know you’re aching to know how all my household crises are going. I’m happy to report that I got my new roof yesterday. (They taught me in radio broadcast to pronounce the double-o in roof like “brew,” not “look,” but I always feel a little pretentious doing it. Though I do do it.) It was a bit of a surprise, actually. I had understood the representative who’d last called me to say that they were going to delay it a couple days, but there they were at 7:00 a.m., smack in the middle of my writing time. I’d wanted to warn my neighbors (with whom I share a driveway) about their arrival, but there was no time for that now. And they parked their dumpster trailer for the scraps right in that driveway.
The workers, however, labored rapidly and efficiently, and they cleaned up so well afterward that the yard looks better than before. And my new shingles are what they call “architectural,” which seems to mean they’re thicker. Quite nice looking, really.
My air conditioner, on the other hand, remains a dead soldier. I get a call from the HVAC company every few days, telling me they’re still waiting for the replacement compressor being sent by the home warranty company. That compressor is apparently a rare and precious item, and must be transported over the smoothest roads at a speed of no more than 30 mph.
I did get another thing accomplished, though, on Monday. I went to the Minnesota equivalent of the DMV, sat for an hour or so, and got my driver’s license renewed. Which brings us to the curious incident of the license photo.
By some strange providence, I do not share the common human complaint of taking bad document photos. It’s an irony that a man as unattractive as I am almost always takes a good picture. My old license photo was rather charming (if I do say so myself). I looked a little like Gabby Hayes in mid-chuckle.
But for some odd reason I found myself thinking about how to make the new photo better. I decided I wanted to look forceful. Stare directly into the lens. Be forthright. An alpha male. A Chad.
When I saw the final photo, though, I was a little shocked. The photo at the top of this post suggests its expression (just add 40 years, 50 pounds, and a gray beard).
I had no intention of looking angry. Just determined. But angry is what I got.
And it occurs to me to ask, “Does this contribute to my lifelong problem with making eye contact?”
I’ve long known that direct eye contact makes me uncomfortable. This is common in people on the autistic scale, even low on the scale (as I appear to be).
But if this is how I look when I do make eye contact, maybe I scare other people too. Maybe when I run away, they’re running as well.
It’s kind of like the mark of Cain. Troubling.
Personal drivel, plus Cain & Abel
First I’ll tell you what’ s going on in my thrill-packed life. Then I’ll tell you about one of my cosmic revelations. Those are always good for a chuckle.
There’s a shrink-wrapped pile of roofing material sitting in the driveway behind my house. I had hail damage last year and my insurance company authorized a full replacement. But one complication after another has delayed the actual job. First it was supposed to happen today. Then tomorrow. Now it’s all in flux – it may or may not happen tomorrow, like Schroedinger’s Shingles. What makes it annoying is that the contractors are going to be parking a dumpster in front of my garage when finally they get to work, which means I have to park on the street tonight on the possibility that work will start tomorrow.
Even more annoying, my air conditioning is out, and has been for about three weeks now. I have a sort of insurance for that, too – a home warranty. The HVAC tech who autopsied my unit said the compressor had burned out, and it couldn’t be replaced. A new AC unit would have to come in. And that shouldn’t take long.
The warranty company, however, has ideas of its own. They opted to replace the compressor. They have a source for replacements which (apparently) they get at a discount. But that source is not a fast source. So we’re still waiting for the part to be delivered.
Thankfully, we’ve had relatively cool weather recently.
Which is supposed to end tomorrow.
Ah, well. I grew up without air conditioning. And hey, it keeps my electric bills down.
A pack of blessings lie on my head, as the Friar said to Romeo (not long before Romeo killed himself).
And what is my revelation?
It wasn’t a full-fledged revelation, of course. Just one of those moments when two ideas inhabiting separate pigeonholes in my brain suddenly link, and I have an ah ha! moment.
It started out with Jordan Peterson. I’ve grown quite taken with Jordan Peterson videos. He’s not right about everything, but he can see correctly what the problems are. He exhorts me to do things I don’t want to do, which is generally a mark of truth.
Anyway, Peterson was talking about Cain in Genesis 4. Peterson’s interpretation of the story of Cain and Abel is that it represents the Easy Way and the Hard Way in life. Cain sacrificed vegetables, which were (as Peterson sees it) an easy sacrifice. Abel sacrificed animals, which means blood and pain. God was pleased with Abel because he took the Hard Way. The right thing in life almost always means blood and pain.
The spark, the circuit that closed, for me was a comparison to the parable of the talents, of which I think I’ve written here before. There are two versions of the parable. In Matthew 25, the master gives talents (sums of money) to three servants – five to one, two to another, and one to the last. In Luke 19, he calls ten servants and gives them ten talents each. In each case, the servants are told to do business with (invest) the money for him while he’s away. In each case, only one servant fails – the one who, instead of investing the money, hides it safely. He returns the full amount to his master, and his master is furious. He didn’t want security. He expected a profit.
The point in both stories – looking at it this way – is that God expects his servants to stretch their horizons. Do bigger things. Move outside their comfort zones. Break new ground, at least personally.
This isn’t about salvation, of course. Salvation is by grace. This is about our earthly lives – what God expects us to do with the talents He bestowed. We’re not here just to wait passively for Heaven. We’ve been given gifts – for the sake of our families, for our neighbors, and (especially) for the church.
And always God expects the bloody sacrifice, the dying to the self. Taking up the cross.
It all makes me feel tremendously guilty. But even I can recognize the truth of it.