The further we get into this bridge collapse story, the more far-fetched my insistence on terrorism appears. Witness the expert articles here and here, from Popular Mechanics (courtesy of James Lileks at www.buzz.mn). Right now we’re all just blue sky speculating. Perhaps we’re dealing with some kind of perfect architectural storm here (to overburden an already stressed metaphorical bridge).

I went through a time, when I was a kid, when I was afraid of bridges. I’ve never entirely gotten over it, though it’s pretty well suppressed. I suppose the suppression will be less effective for a while now.

My own complaints seem (and seem because they are) trivial today. A little after the tragedy last night, a thunderstorm hit here (it was a mercy of God that it only grazed the neighborhood of the bridge failure), and a lightning strike close by messed up a couple things in the house. The monitor I’m working on now lost some brightness (the degaussing utility fixed that) and my TV got all messed up, with arcs of primary color adorning the top and bottom, and green faces on all the people. According to what I read on the internet, my set ought to degauss itself, in a gradual fashion, a little bit each time I turn it on.

Also the Ground Fault Protection outlet in my bathroom went poof and stopped working. It’s the kind that doesn’t have a re-set button, so I guess I’ll have to call an electrician for that.

Joe Carter at The Evangelical Outpost re-posted this essay today. I consider it well worth your attention.

I find that I just don’t have the stomach for those old arguments anymore. I’m still willing to discuss doctrinal differences. But now I’m less sure that I’m standing on the right side of scripture. Is the view heretical or likely to lead someone away from salvation? Then I’ll fight it tooth-and-nail. If not, then I’ll probably just sit this one out. I no longer have an interest in being what Anthony Bradley calls a “wife beater”:

And I’ll leave you with that tonight.

It’s almost obligatory for anybody in this community to say, “I just drove over that bridge yesterday.” Or “last week.” Or “I drive it all the time.”

I think I must be the only person in Minneapolis who almost never goes that way. I’ve been trying to conjure up a memory of that particular stretch of 35W, and for the life of me I can’t. I live in the northwest suburbs, so I always angle off before downtown, and if I’m going north I angle off northeast. So I’m much less spooked than your average Twin Cities blogger today.

I’m very sad though.

And I still can’t get terrorism out of my mind. The whole thing just doesn’t add up. Somebody’s holding something back, I suspect, to prevent panic.

In case you were worried, I wasn’t anywhere near the 35W bridge when it collapsed tonight. It’s a terrible thing, and aside from the suffering (one confirmed dead at this time) it will cripple local commerce and transportation for a long time. This was the major artery of our community.

They say there’s no reason to suspect terrorism. I’ll go out on a limb and say that, personally, I do suspect it.

Today is my birthday. I’m ** years old.

Thanks to Uncle Orv and Aunt Rachel, along with our reader Omie, who sent cards (Omie also sent a gift. I approve of this. Gifts to bloggers are always in order. Especially on their birthdays. Especially when they’re crotchety old bachelors).

I took myself out to Baker’s Square for supper tonight, to celebrate. I don’t go there often, not because I don’t like the food (I think it’s been getting better over the years) but because at my age, and following the reflux surgery I had, I have a hard time consuming a meal and a having a piece of French Silk pie on top of it. And skipping the French Silk is not to be thought of. Better to skip the meal.

I ordered from the Light Menu, but I’m still pretty stuffed. Nevertheless, I will not have it said that I did nothing to celebrate. Almost nothing, yes, but not nothing.

I’m still pretty beat from a weekend of almost constant social interaction (oh, the humanity!). We gathered at Brother Moloch’s home in Iowa for a double celebration (or observation. Or something). There was the baptism of their former exchange student, a young woman from Germany who is back temporarily for some medical training. “What?” you ask. “An adult baptism in a Lutheran church?” Yes, we do do them, in certain circumstances. This young woman was born in East Germany under Communism and has never been baptized. She’s been making up her mind on the matter for several years, under the influence of Moloch and his family. Now she’s decided that she wants to enter the church. Her parents and maternal grandparents came over for the event too. Her parents speak English but the grandparents don’t, but we all got along excellently. We spent most of our time sitting outdoors, which the Germans seemed to prefer. Fortunately the weather was mild, and it’s been a dry year so there weren’t many mosquitoes. We made conversation (or sat pretty much silent in my case) and watched the fireflies and listened to the cicadas.

There was also a commissioning for my Youngest Niece, whom we put on a plane for China about 6:30 a.m. Monday. She’ll be teaching English there for two years, under the same program her sister attempted a couple years back, but had to abandon due to ill health. There was much weeping and gnashing of teeth, but we’re all proud of her.

We also spent some time fooling around with an ultralight plane Brother Moloch bought and hopes to re-sell. He never got it off the ground, and didn’t really try to. He just wanted to figure out how the controls responded. My personal impression is that the thing was designed by Terry Gilliam and Dr. Kevorkian, but those who tooled it around like a go-cart had a good time, and they only tore up a small portion of the cornfields that surround the air strip.

For my birthday, my brothers took me out for a hamburger. The symbolism suffered, however, in that the local diner did not have Heinz ketchup for my Heinz birthday. But I choose to believe that they’re boycotting Heinz in disgust at Teresa Heinz Kerry, and I can get behind that.

It’s my birthday. Humor me.

They’re talking about Sven Birkerts’ article over on World Magazine’s blog. For the viewpoint of readers with no stake in lit-blogging or print reviewing, read this thread.

Crucial in the identity of a writer, especially for those who “write for God,” is the hope that something in the work will resonate in the audience, affecting the reader long after the book has been shelved. I believe that individuals, especially those who hope for a close connection with Christ, are constantly working to discover how to view themselves and others, and that the work is not likely to be finished this side of heaven. May this issue challenge you if you have become comfortable, may it soothe you if you are lost, and may you enjoy every page.

That’s how Kimberly Culbertson, editor-in-chief of Relief Journal, closes her introduction to the spring 2007 issue. She’s dead right.

Relief is an excellent literary journal. The spring issue has the winner of their Daily Sacrament contest, coordinated with the blog faith*in*fiction, which is Don Hoesel’s “Goodbye Sophie.” It’s a beautiful, challenging story of a musician conversing with a fan. Relief stories, non-fiction, and poetry have a wonderful flavor, like a soup with the best ingredients. No wow-factor, just a lingering satisfaction. Do yourself or a friend a favor by subscribing to this journal.

Speaking of nakedness and the like, here’s a letter from a few months ago which recounts an interesting Bible study on Ruth. About mid-letter, Mrs. Jackson writes, “Ruth, as you may recall, is both listening and following Naomi’s advice to have a kinsman Boaz help them in their impoverished state. Naomi tells Ruth to go to the threshing floor and sleep at Boaz’s feet. This is where the priestess popped out with ‘In seminary, I learned that when feet is mentioned in the bible it means . . .'” You can probably see it coming. (via Videlicet)

Richard Nokes is talking about the Beowulf animation too, saying he must break the second commandment of medieval blogging, which is “Thou shalt not suggest Neil Gaiman is a mere mortal.” He says that Gaiman has Beowulf fight Grendel in the nude. It’s in the poem, Gaiman says, but Nokes can’t quite find it. I need to read this thing again. He concludes:

Regardless, it is disconcerting how often the words “nude” and “naked” are being associated with this new Beowulf movie. If Hollywood is that desperate to have nudity in a canonical work of medieval literature, they might pick something out of the Decameron — it gives lots of options. (via Blogwatch)

(I’m sure this post will up our blog rating. We have been a PG blog for instances of death and murder.)

But getting back to the movie, I’ve always pictured Grendel as a big monster, not a humanoid thing, like this in fact. I can’t read that post, but I think I saw that image of Grendel when I was first exposed to Beowulf. That’s a troll as I’ve always known them.

In other news, Key West, Florida just held their annual Ernest Hemingway Look-Alike Contest at Sloppy Joe’s Bar.

Mary E. DeMuth notes a few thoughts on a Christian response to criticism.

1. Examine yourself.
2. Consider this may be an opportunity for you to experience and show Jesus to a weaker brother.
3. Even if things spin out of control and all sorts of people say half-truths about you and your words, rest in Jesus and cherish the deeper fellowship you’ll have with Him.
4. Remember that even if you say-act-do everything correctly (in a way that would make God smile), it may not change someone’s heart.
5. Believe in God’s sovereignty.
6. Don’t let the accusations wet-blanket your passion for serving Jesus.