Week 3 NFL After Picks

So here we are at week 4 in the NFL. HOLY CRAP!! It just started and it’s already 25% Complete! 

* I plan to rave about the gross unfairness of basketball and that stick ball thing they do in the summer having WAY too many games and crowding out the glorious sport of football. But if I don’t, know where I stand. 

So I’m going back to week 3, some serious drama there. And it was some serious drama at home that kept me from writing. Actually it was starting a new job and realizing I didn’t know what I was supposed to know and going back over the online class I took. But what does this have to do with football? Also, giving my wife time to do her college homework and try to keep my 2 sons from going stir crazy.

Week 3 – Select post picks4

So how about those Seahawks? And how about those Ravens?  (For week three I will forgo my usual non mention of the Baltimore team in honor of Torry Smith, who lost his little brother less than 24 hours before the game, and went out and played like a champ. Hard to keep a dry eye there.)  But I digress. The real heroes of week 3 were the replacement refs. What a story! I am convinced that the whole thing was an elaborate scheme cooked up by the marketing team at NFL HQ to get even more ratings. Only it backfired. My unofficial, not necessarily inside source at NFL HQ was mum on the subject. OK, she was the receptionist, who found me amusing at first but after my 4^th call threatened to get a restraining order. But I could tell in the pregnant silence after my question that she knew what I was talking about. So I’m sticking with my story. So, now they are no more, although they received pay for week 4 for not showing up, and the real refs, the ones we hated last year, received a standing Ovation in some stadiums. Seriously, applauding the refs? What has this world come to.

So here we go

Packers @ Seahawks – my pick: Seattle actually, in a close game. And not because I live in Washington
I didn’t see the last play. I was with my son at Applebees, trying to watch the game, while he kept asking me when the balloon man was coming to our table. So finally he comes and he’s really talented. He made a palm tree and a monkey climbing. I felt horrible, not having some cash to tip the guy. And then worse when the restaurant couldn’t take a tip from my card. And then I left and forgot about it until now. When I left the Packers were staging a comeback, just like I thought they might. Then the last pass… and the rest is history.

Patriots @ Ravens, who next week will be the team we do not mention. My pick – Ravens.
Yep, Ravens. I figured they would be so hopping mad they would eat Mr Brady and his back up for lunch and win it 52-3. But that isn’t what happened. The Patriots were leading, giving me hope. And then I saw His Beautifulness get hit by a purple guy (lightly)and start lobbying for a flag, and then got one. And it hit me…. Tom Brady really is the pansy they say he is. Maybe I am a fool to follow this guy, root for him… maybe.

49ers @ Vikings. My pick – Vikings, and not because they actually won. I thought they might be for real. I live in WA, but was born in Portland, so really I can root for either the Niners or the Seahawks. And then there is that basketball team I SHOULD root for, and most times do.

Texans @ Broncos. My pick – whoever eventually won.
But I have to say, Mr Elway, what is the difference between losing with Manning and losing with Tebow? Hello? Nothing to say? I watched part of this, right after the ear thing with Matt Schaub, who is having a great year. The only thing is… dude, your image, WTH? First of all, grow the hair out, loosen up a bit. I mean, really, you could win it all this year, go on SNL and date supermodels and all that. Second, get a real QB number, something in the 2 digits. Yeah, there was Favre and Young and Aikman, but that era is fading. Go with 14 or 12. And then…. Dude change your name. Colt McCoy isn’t playing, that would be a good one. Or something tough, like, say, Chuck Dakota, or Dakota McCoy. Or maybe, just maybe, Brady Quinn. He isn’t playing now. Probably better to go with Quinn Brady though. So there it is Matt Schaub. Long hair, number 12 and Brady on your jersey… now you’re a stylin’ QB.

Eagles @ Cardinals. My pick – Eagles. Seriously, the Cardinals?
Well, I guess they won, and at home. "Right now we're with Michael. We'll evaluate it as we go," said Andy Reid after the game, about his QB. And I got to thinking, say they bench him? Who is the backup? Nick Foles, who is that? I say…. Bring McNabb back. And here’s why. My first girlfriend and I had a dramatic break up. And I learned there was someone else. And she went back to him…. Sort of. And then… well, yeah, I was the someone else. But I knew the deal. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. And I was OK with it. So I think he will come back. In fact I predict it. 

Steelers @ Raiders. My pick – duh! Raiders stink, right?
Wrong. Although this loss was way less emotional than the 1978 AFC Championship loss to the Raiders. I cried, I was 15, it seemed the thing to do. And I hated the Raiders for years. 2 anyway, until my Steelers went back. But it got me thinking of another team I just hated, with a passion. The 90s era Cowboys, who robbed my Niners of 2 Super Bowls, maybe 3. Who didn’t love Joe Montana? Seriously. And he was hurt for a long time. But the final game of the 1992 season he was back, and they let him play in a game against the Lions Ibelieve, at home. There he was, Super Joe, back on the field, throwing TDs. The only problem was that his backup was the MVP that year, and rumors were that Joe was done in SF. But rumors are just rumors, he’s Joe f@$%ing Montana after all. So they have home field, and the MVP back up barely beats the Redskins, then they host this upstart bunch of morons who fired Tom Landry, and the bastards actually have the audacity to be leading the game late into it. The backup isn’t doing all that hot, they want to get to the Super Bowl right? What would you do? What would anyone do? Joe f@$%ing Montana is over there warming a bench. But they never put him in…. never. What was the dialogue like? Who made the call? There had to be somebody at Candlestick who remembered number 16 andhis 4 Super Bowl Rings.
SCREWED UP SF EXECUTIVE: This doesn’t look good.
HOPEFUL SF EXECUTIVE: Young isn’t cutting it. What about Joe?
SCREWED UP SF EXECUTIVE: We have to keep Steve in. We’re trading Joe remember. Steve is the MVP.
HOPEFUL SF EXECUTIVE: Not today we’re not. We’re losing this game, but there’s time left. Tell them to send Joe in.
SCREWED UP SF EXECUTIVE: blah blah, corporate eanings, salary cap, blah blah, Steve Young blah blah future
HOPEFUL SF EXECUTIVE: he’s Joe f@$%ing Montana!
SCREWED UP SF EXECUTIVE: blah blah future, Kansas City, blah blah retire his number. Good for the company, blah blah
HOPEFUL SF EXECUTIVE: But, sir, he’s Joe f@$%ing Montana!
You get the picture, and this was way funnier in my head, before I wrote it… So, enough of Week 3.

My Picks for the NFL Season - Week 2

Now you will be sure to ask, Jim, don't you mean week 3? That's the one that's playing tomorrow. And I will say "no". Because this is my long dreamed of and finally typed out, Picks for the Week After they have played. Everybody predicts before and they're almost always half wrong, check it out. As James T Kirk is so fond of saying, "I don't like to lose!" And neither do I. But I plan to be fair. So here goes:

BEARS @ PACKERS, my pick, the Packers of course!
A boring defensive team who rants and raves about its exploits in the 80 as if they were the beloved Niners, 4 superbowls to 1, versus the offensively exciting and recent Lombardi winner the Packers? Where many of those receivers caught passes from (wait for it, and bow your heads) Brett Favre?
OK, so I was taking an online course, bettering my life, and every night at a certain time, I get a 15 minute break. It just so happened that my break coincided with the sexiest play I have seen in a long time. OK, since Tom Brady's last TD pass. 4th and long and they lined up for a FG, and I though, before it happened, I would just go for it. Well, they did. Game Over.
score 1-0

BUCCANEERS AT GIANTS, my pick...
This is where it gets tricky. I will have wanted to say that I picked the Giants, after their stinkfest against the Cowboys. But the Cowboys lost to Seattle, badly. So maybe I though the Giants would have a Super Bowl Hangover and Tampa would come in and win one. And since they almost did...
OK, my pick was the Buccaneers. And then there was that whole final play nonsense. And the logic seemed right. Maybe. Then there was that Tom Coughlin lecturing at the coach of the team who lost... yeah whatever, next...
score 1-1

RAIDERS @ DOLPHINS, my pick, The Raiders, just because they probably should be doing something besides sucking. Especially playing the suckiest team in recent memory. But they lost. And maybe something else happened. I don't really care.
score 1-2, see I am being honest

TEXANS @ JAGUARS, my pick, Texans
They're good, the QB is good, the defense is good, blah blah blah
score 2-2

The Ohio teams - whatever... I've been to Ohio, I had an Army buddy and we used to go to his house in Akron. We'd drive through heavenly Western Virginia and up the Cuyahoga something, way to go. But foot ball? And then he got out and joined some weird cult and I never heard from him again. OK, I tried to call a couple time but it was weird. I miss you Eric.
score 2-2

CHIEFS @ BILLS, my pick, home team? Sound fair? These tow haven't dome anything since 1992, when Joe Montana, may he live forever, was playing in the AFC Championship game. And the a$$hole Bills beat him, then lost to that stupid team who stole 2 Super Bowls from my beloved Niners.
score 3-2

THE TEAM WE DO NOT SPEAK OF @ THE ONE WITH THE DOG KILLER, my pick, home team here again, I guess. I actually watched part of it. I think I remember Cheerleaders... and beer. But no football to speak of. Which translates to, nothing exciting.
score 4-2

SAINTS AT PANTHERS, my pick, would NO right the ship? And prove that they are still the team that almost beat the Niners, who almost beat the Giants? Or would that team who has that guy who beat the ducks pull one out? I decided i would have went with NO. So I lost.
score 4-3

CARDINALS @ THE TEAM TOM BRADY PLAYS QB FOR, my pick... please. need you really ask? This one wasn't on the TV, so I followed online, thinking, OK, any moment they will realize it's Sunday, this is a real game. So I guess there was a fumble, and then a FG attempt. OK, they'll win. And that beautiful man will say pithy and truthful things from his soul. His bright eyes shining and his hair billowing in the wind of the press room.
no such luck.... and I join the fans in Foxboro with a loud boo.
score 4-4

VIKINGS @ COLTS, my pick, home team here. And I guess Luck did not suck.
score 5-4

REDSKINS @ RAMS, my pick, I would have wanted to pick the team who won. Because this one could have gone a number of ways. 2 first round QBs with something to prove. So it came down to one team doing something stupid at the end and the other team losing. Being a Favre fan, I know how this feels. And really, it's all about him, isn't it? He hold all the records. No one will ever get there.
score 5-5, not because I picked the loser but just because.... oh, who cares?

COWBOYS @ SEAHAWKS, my pick, Cowboys. yep. Going against the home team because they gave those Giants a whooping last week and Seattle lost to lowly Arizona. And way to go, Arizona defense! Come up with a stop in that game but then NOT do it when Kurt Warner had just bested the Mighty Steelers in the Super Bowl, the one where Bruce Springsteen played. Also the one I almost went to by myself. I had just gotten my tax return and found tickets, supposedly, online, and a flight. I knew hotels were booked but it was Tampa and warm weather. I could just rent a car, in theory, and sleep there. Plus Warren Sapp had just gotten arrested for domestic violence and spent the night in jail, there was always his room.....
Anyway, the Hawks pulled it out, rather convincingly. And I am seriously debating going up there in November when the team Tom Brady plays for will be there. I'll want to be cool, stalking him of course, but just to approach him and say, Hey Tom, good game. (He will have won, of course) And I'll ask him for his autograph, casually, and I'll have something with me. Some piece of paper. And I will post it on Facebook and feel cool for a week.
score 5-6, thanks alot Tony Romo

JETS @ STEELERS, my pick - this is one of those weird ones where I have been a Steeler fan since the 70s, always root for them, except when they played that team Kurt Warner was on in the Super Bowl, and then I rooted for the Packers, but if the Steelers had won... maybe I would just think they are too much, like that recent U2 album and tour that was popular, but i didn't really follow it. But before picking the Jets, I would have wanted to know if Tebow had come in and done something spectacular. He didn't. I watched most of this, but went to make lunch and came back and saw him in the game, doing nothing at all. So, Steelers on this one.
score 6-6

TITANS @ CHARGERS, my pick, home team.
every once in while there is that distant game in a distant land. They aren't on TV and they show if someone has scored when they do. But the uniforms don't look right. And it doesn't look real. San Diego was not wearing what I remember them wearing when my beloved Niners and Steve Young ran all over them for their 5th Super Bowl. So it was weird. And the Titans haven't seemed right since Steve McNair anyway. Come on... Kerry Collins? And then taking Matt Hasselbeck's job away? Who are the Chargers? Are they real? Can they win? They have good people. And they can make the playoffs. Just a weird situation.
score 7-6

LIONS @ 49ERS, my pick, gee, I wonder who? Although it would have been fun to have picked the Lions and then have Matthew Stafford pick them apart and assume the role of an elite QB... but he looks funny. His face is too fat and he doesn't have the je ne sais que that Manning and Brady and Rogers have. It was a fun game to watch. The Niners remind me of a story I read as a kid about the Phoenix bird. He was friends with this boy and then, as they do, the bird kills itself in a fire and then comes back. It's still the Phoenix, but it's new and different. And so it is with this Niners team. They look right, just like Joe Montana, Jerry Rice, John Taylor, Dwight Clark, Bryant Young and Ricky Watters used to look. But they are different. Good, scary good. And maybe the fire was Mike Singletary. They had to go through it to get to the other side. No pain no gain.
score 8-6

BRONCOS @ FALCONS, my pick - Manning of course. It's all about him isn't it? How in the world was he going to come down to Georgia and lose, after shredding the Steelers. But, by the way, what is the difference between Manning doing it last week and Tebow doing it at home in the playoffs? Beating the damn Steelers, and lighting up the stadium in one of the most dramatic and memorable moments in the playoffs.... winning, right? But let's get this old geezer who was good once, a 2 time MVP, (and don't correct me and say that it is 4 because the first one he shared with Steve McNair and the last one he stole from Kurt Warner. MVP means the whole season. Not the season where you put up numbers and then go to San Diego and lose) where was I?
Right, trading Tebow for Manning, in spite of the stern warnings of a mighty Spiting from Pat Robertson.
So was this the beginning? Manning loses? 3 picks? I'm still trying to work out the Divine Plan for Pittsburgh losing.... maybe it wa to make them stronger and to make Manning proud. And pride goes before a fall....
score 8-7

So, even making picks after the games I still came up 8-7. So this is no fluke thing. See you next week.

Thoughts of my Father

I can remember my father telling me, sometime in my late teens, that he really loved the times we had together drinking tea and reading the paper on Sunday Mornings.  We would get up really early and insert ads, then load up the bags on our bikes and head out. It usually lasted an hour and when we got home we would sit and read for another hour before everyone got up. I didn’t say anything in response, just smiled… because, really, I hated him, and also those times. Most of it was being a teenage boy perhaps. But back then, my father was mean.

Many who knew and loved Jim Caruthers Sr in the last few years would not recognize the man I remember. Maybe they’d tell me that I was crazy, or I was being mean myself. In the last few years, as I have reflected back, I have tried to figure out what made him mean, but I have no real idea. And it isn’t important any more. My parents divorced when I was 17, and in typical teenage fashion, I made him the scapegoat for many of my issues, and had almost nothing to do with him until I joined the Army at 20. But I do remember one time, shortly before I left, when he and his new wife came by to drop off a present for my sister. For some reason I didn’t feel so angry, and tried to talk to him. But he said little and drove off quickly…

And it really wasn’t until 1983, after a few months in the Army, when I thought of him again. This time I had just finished seeing a new movie, Return of the Jedi, where a son and a father get back together, if only for a few minutes. I remember seeing it a lot and crying every time. And it took me a few months, but eventually I wrote my Dad a letter and told him that I forgave him and asked him to forgive me. I asked if we could start again. I felt that an effort other than a phone call was required. I pored over the words and later he told me that when he read it great tears ran down his face. I had no real response to hearing that, maybe it seemed odd. I didn’t think he cared that much. He had told me that he was a Christian now, and I remember thinking not a whole lot about that either, but the Lord and I had begun our dance through an army buddy who was witnessing to me. I stoutly refused to surrender, afraid of the whole thing.

I came home on leave and met up with my father and his wife, Wanda. At one point Wanda took me aside and in a very serious tone told me how much my visit meant to him, and how happy he was. None of my siblings wanted anything to do with him. I remember a road trip he and I took to Springfield. It felt a little awkward at first. I had spent so much time hating him, I wasn’t sure how to act. But we talked of the army and his job and other things. I remember sitting on the plane back home and thinking I really didn’t so much have a father as a 55 year old friend.

In 1988, I gave my life to Jesus on a highway in North Carolina at 11 at night. I really had no idea of what I had just done, but I remember sharing this with my father who, again, cried great tears at the news. And he told me he and Wanda had been praying for me. And again I thought, oh, okay, that’s nice.

To this day and every day of my life I will always believe that me forgiving my father was somehow a seed the Lord used to bring me to Himself. And as I sit writing this, crying, and wanting to come to my father’s service, every one of these feelings that at the time were so inconsequential, are now very powerful and emotional. Being a father myself now, I feel each one of my father’s tears over me, as I would have cried over my own sons. I feel him crying that I wanted to spend time with him, to get to know him again, and crying tears of joy that I had chosen to follow Jesus, his prayers were answered.

There was a song that came out in the eighties that had these words: “I wasn’t there that morning, when my father passed away, I didn’t get to tell him, all the things I had to say/I just wish I could have told him, In the living years.” And I am so extremely grateful that I got to tell him I loved him, that I forgive him, I believe in him, I am thankful for him and my mother adopting me, giving me a home and a start in life, that his marriage to Wanda and his walk with Jesus inspired me.

Dad, I remember the man you were… and I remember the pained look in your face a few years ago when you told me to my face how truly sorry you were. I will always see your life as a living sermon of what the Lord can do with a man who surrenders and gives his heart to Jesus. You were transformed. I read comments from people I don’t know, who remember you and your love and service and your heart… I read comments from Wanda’s daughters about how they loved you and you cared for them, and how much they miss you… and I see Jesus in your life, guiding you and teaching you and living through you. Dad, I want to be like you. I want to raise my boys like you. They will always know about you, even if their time with you was short.

Oh, that we could have those Sunday mornings over again. Maybe in Heaven there is a paper and we can ride our bikes again on those deserted Sunday morning streets, and I’ll bring my boys, and afterwards we can all sit down and just get to know each other.  But your life, Dad, has inspired me to look for those moments in my son’s lives, and teach them the good things of God, the things young boys should know, and to listen to them and find out who they are, and love them without condition. And I will love my wife like you loved Wanda, who truly misses you and has nothing but wonderful things to say about you and your life. I will truly miss you Dad, but it is a short wait until we are together again, this time forever.

And I would say to any who care to listen… don’t let the great things of life go unsaid, one to another. Learn from my father and let the Lord heal your bitterness. Call that someone and start again, even if it is difficult. You might find that they will cry great tears of joy.

Blog #12 Media and Messages

One of my favorite, occasional little treats to myself is go to the library and check out an Agatha Christie book on CD. I have tried to read her books but they just don't seem to move me. Either that or the British style of writing doesn't jive with my American ADD. The teleplays on PBS fall short also; somehow the acting is too... British. Not Monty Python British but Masterpiece Theater British, alright, boring. But I love to listen to the stories and my imagination goes wild imagining the English cottage by the sea and the murder and Mr Poirot solving the case. I never come close to solving the case, but it is a wonderful 4 hour escape while I am stuck in traffic.
Now, trying to keep this PG, while my wife and I were dating, we IM'd each other while we were at work a few times, and wow! A lot of fun! Things were said that wouldn't have been said in person. I'll stop before I get too far, but that email from her during the day was so comforting and fulfilling. Sure, I would be seeing her later, and most likely going on a date with her, and even with her mother accompanying us on several occasions, but the email was different.
In my younger days, single days, I would go see movies and then read the books. I felt like the movie was the rough draft, the broad strokes of the idea, but the novel was the whole picture. My expectations were already out of the way by the movie, now I got to find out what the characters were thinking, what their motivation was.
Most of us have seen the old, brown newspapers our parents or grandparents kept of really important events, like the moon landing or Kennedy's death, and for me, the news just has more meaning in a newspaper. The newspaper documented the assassination and you held it and read it and it became Kennedy's obituary. In print it was sealed forever. Except for seeing the devastation of September 11th on TV, internet news and television news has become just a soundbite, another sensational event in between Burger King and Car Dealer commercials. Nothing against Princess Diana, but a great person died at the same time, who gave her life to the cause of suffering people all over the world. But the sensationalism of the death of a princess overshadowed the passing of Mother Theresa. Who had the time to go to the store, get a copy of the paper that day and save it?
A good conspiracy theorist will tell you it's a plot to distract us from the real garbage going on. But I wonder if there is some truth to the fact that rapidly changing headlines and blockbuster movies every week and a constant bombardment of useless information is a medium to manipulate the masses.

Blog #11 Reading Response

I am commenting on the article Is Google Making Us Stupid by Nicholas Carr. In humor, I'd like to say that I started to read it but then got a text from my boss and then my mom called and then 24 came on and I simply scanned it and the next few hundred words are inane drivel masking as analytical b.s. But, I actually went to the mall (no sound system, less distractions), had a Caramel Latte (alright, and a chocolate donut!) and read the entire article in one short sitting.
Mr Carr makes a great case for the internet age being responsible for giving us all a mass case of ADD. As more inputs to our brain pop up, he believes, the less time we have for lengthy, critical readings. In my own life I can bear witness to this. In my twenties I read Herman Hesse, Anne Tyler, Tom Wolfe, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, and several Dostoevsky novels, to name a few. These novels are not known for their knife edge, thrill a minute style. And then I discovered Robert Ludlum and Jack Higgins and my hunger for spy novels increased. Now I crave the likes of Vince Flynn and David Baldacci, because it has to be fast, has to move me from the start. My wife wants me to read Dr Phil's books, nothing wrong with that, but his style is on the same excitement level as watching lettuce wilt. So I understood the article very well.
I liked how he gave examples from the past of the invention of writing and the printing press and cited examples of their critics. It's funny to think about being against writing now, but Socrates' fear that we would start to forget things and not rely on our brains, or intuition, is rather profound. I mean, someone had to be the first one to crack an egg, cook it and notice it tasted good. What about the hind end of a pig? Did instructions appear from the heavens saying that this meat and swiss cheese on rye bread would be good? And what about potty training? Whether you believe in a creator or an evolving race, reading a book and trying to train the kids at 3 or 4 has got to be the wrong way to go about it! Maybe we have been missing something. Maybe the answer to all these questions is in the brain and writing has muddied the answer. Cats don't read books to know that mice are what they are supposed to eat. (Perhaps the previous questions document my ADD perfectly).
Overall I found Mr Carr's article very entertaining and informative. This Google idea of an intelligence insert for the brain is a bit scary though. But maybe it can be useful in helping people remember all their password for all their distracting web locations.

Blog # 10 I Love Technology, I think

I believe I am right at that point where I am going to turn into an “old person” concerning technology. (I used to be a counter helper at Lazerquick and was severely frustrated having to show old people all day long how to make a copy. And don't get me started about old people in the express lane at Safeway!) Don't get me wrong, I love email and the internet (Monty Python in English class!), I sarcastically dismiss newspaper salesmen at my door, and am completely paperless in billing and things, but something is missing from our lives. I can't tell you how many times I have seen a mother on a pointless cell call and wanted to say, “would you hang up and deal with your kids?” The reading from Remix about the lady who is online all day really scares me. There is a disconnecting from reality that is going on. I scanned a book in Kinkos once called, The High Tech Lockout. It was about the reality of applying for work in the new millennium and never being able to contact a real person. I find this highly irritating, and seem to be suffering from this alleged lockout, since it's been almost three years since I have worked steadily. But, in all fairness, there are many of my own dealings where I am glad I can just leave a voicemail, send an email, or not respond to a message. Gone are the days when you could knock on a person's door and they had to answer because they knew you knew they were at home.
Technology seems to be everything: all our entertainment, our daily functions, our finances and now, even our relationships. I am frustrated that my parents don't have email and I am expected to call them and talk to them. But I would hate for my children to think of me like this. It's only on rare occasions I run across someone who is tech free – see I don't even have time to spell out the whole word! And these people seem like oddballs now. But I admire their spirit and their stance. One day I will sit my kids down and explain life in the 60s and 70s, rotary phones and tvs with a huge channel changing nob.

Blog #9 The reading response

The fans are screaming as I leave the dressing room and head for the bus. And scream they should, we totally rocked Chicago the last three nights. I grab my “precious”, the 1969 Fender Telecaster once played by Neil Young at Woodstock and sign few autographs. Up the bus steps and into my private little suite, and the band is headed to Detroit for 2 sold out shows at the something arena. The drive gives me a little time to write. James Cameron wants me to nail a theme song for some new movie of his. And he promised me a cameo. He says he likes our rough style and raw energy and it fits his vision for the film, something called Avatar. Must be about technology or something, online games or MySpace. Crap, after Titanic, I thought he'd try something a little bit more elaborate.....

Oops, sorry, just daydreaming there. Spending time in my “avatar”, or as we called it in the old days, imagining, or having a secret identity. Yeah, the good old 70s when we were forced to go to burger joints and hang out. And you couldn't “text” your friends to have them meet you there. If you were late one day after school, you just missed out. And then, the horror, you went home and did something called “playing outside”. Oh, it was miserable! Using tree branches as weapons and restaging the Battle of Iwo Jima in our huge backyard with some of the neighborhood kids.

I am commenting on the first 3 readings, Alter Egos: Avatars and Their Creators by Julian Dibbell, where he describes what it's like to create an online character for gaming, and the sensation it gives him, being someone who he is not. Also the Facebook article and Someone to Watch Over Me, where Theodora Stites gives a graphic picture of her extensive networking endeavors.

The rock star was my Avatar, before I knew what the term meant, a way to escape the fascism of my parents and the abuse of my father, mainly the trips to the woodshed, a literal one, and a leather belt. My avatar was very detailed in his creation and personality, even though he was just a friend in my head. One day when I “grew up”, and shortly after seeing U2's Zoo TV concert, I decided to write a novel about the guy, kill him at the end and then I would be done with him. Well, good thing I had a swing shift job and a lousy marriage, so I could come home at midnight, write till 4 or 5 and then sleep and go to work. 10 months and 5 rejection letters later, I had a 440,000 word albatross I wasn't quite sure what to do with. I could have self published if I had $5000. But at least I did kind of exhaust the idea of the character. This was in the early 90s before the tech explosion and online gaming communities came to be. And maybe that's a good thing or I would never have escaped fantasy and tried to exist in the real world.

I consider myself a moderate Facebook user and I don't have a MySpace page. The best thing about Facebook has been finding some old friends, but I am just not getting the response I need to my highly witty posts. Nor can I seem to convince others that my man crush with Brett Favre during this NFL season was highly sarcastic. But it is strange how these things dominate culture, and isolate us to our private dens where we type and network but have no real contact. I think this point was brilliantly portrayed in the movie WALLE, with the shipmates using their screens to communicate, even when they were 2 feet apart.

Blog # 7 Reading Response

I am commenting on the Remix reading, the four assumptions about love and romance, and the David Sedaris article. Catherine Latterell breaks down the assumptions that love conquers all, that chemistry equals love, that true lovers will be soul mates, and that love is forever. She uses some examples from culture to explain that these assumptions can be just like the fairy tales that highlight the assumptions, not quite true in the real world.
In my experience with my wife Rebecca, we are still in love, still dealing with our two children and daddy's unemployment and anger management recovery, but a more accurate mantra for us would be, "compromise conquers all". When that is in place the peace and sanity comes to deal with whatever life throws at us and gives me (an extreme type A driven type) the patience to respond to the Queen of "stop and smell the roses".
Chemistry equals love, we all assume. Well, high blood pressure medication, and Paxil are controlling my "chemistry", thank you very much. ADD has wreaked havoc in our home and while we are hesitant to medicate that, we both have an understanding that certain things just are not going to get done when we want them to.
Rebecca is my soul mate. When we were dating we talked about anything and everything, laying out our lives together, planning our future. Seven months into our marriage, we both lost our jobs, got pregnant, bought a house, almost lost it, then I had a mid life crisis and now we are putting the pieces together. Getting both kids to sleep by 10 and watching a movie is a good day in our marriage! She has a major complaint that we just don't talk like we used to. And part of me grieves, while the other nagging part says, “get real”.
True love is forever, Latterell claims, is the last assumption. I say that what lasts forever is what is cared for, strengthened, cherished and adored. What lasts forever is the resolve to keep going when life throws Hell at you, your kids poop all over the rug, you're not sure how to make your house payment, but somewhere in your day you remember the woman you married is the same woman who is staring at you now, wondering when you are going to pull your head out of your behind and get on with life; let go of all the crap that was done to you and just BE HAPPY. If you wake up each day and at least want to try, what you have is forever.

I loved how David Sedaris commented on the normal things that happen in a relationship. I mean, how exciting would it be if Disney made Cinderella 2 and the highlight of the movie was potty training Junior Charming? Or if in all the romantic comedies you see, if the sequel contained the starlet gaining weight when their children were born or someone like Matthew Mcconaughey going to an AA meeting, then meeting with his pastor or somebody and then sitting down and crying, feeling like he just might have the strength to keep on living? But these are the things that can strengthen and enhance love, and at the same time can tear love apart.

Blog #8 Annie's Song

You fill up my senses like a night in a forest,
Like the mountains in springtime,
Like a walk in the rain, like a storm in the desert,
Like a sleepy blue ocean.
You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

Come let me love you, let me give my life to you,
Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms.
Let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you
Come let me love you, come love me again.

Let me give my life to you,
Come let me love you, come love me again.

You fill up my senses like a night in a forest,
Like the mountains in springtime,
Like a walk in the rain, like a storm in the desert,
Like a sleepy blue ocean.
You fill up my senses, come fill me again.

I chose to analyze the melodic 70s pop song Annie's Song by John Denver. Number one, I have always liked it and number two, I sang this to a lovely young lady one night while out with some friends and, well, I proposed soon thereafter. In analyzing this song it is far more than a simple pop love song. He's not stating that he wants to hold her hand; she doesn't drive him crazy in some hormonal rush; she fills his senses! More than fresh coffee and bacon smells incredible first thing in the morning, she fills him like the mountains in springtime, like a night in a forest (probably before he saw The Blair With Project). According to Wikipedia, he wrote this song in about ten minutes after skiing a difficult run and was filled with inspiration, looking at the nature around him. He thought of his wife and quickly wrote a number one hit. Well, the couple divorced eight years later, but the song lives on.

Does it reflect the assumptions in Remix? You bet it does! His love for Annie, to have written these words, had to be eternal, an epic, Romeo and Juliet love. Her very being fills his mind and soul. Is sexual love in here somewhere? Probably, but higher than this is the selfless, sacrificial love in the lines "let me give my life to you" and "let me die in your arms". And there is chemistry, tons of it. This isn't some coffee house floozy, this is John's wife (for the next eight years anyway). Any casual observer knows that John loved nature, was vocal in environmental causes. So this great passion was wrapped around his relationship with his wife and he immersed himself in her like he did "a walk in the rain". I believe he is saying that Annie was more than his soul mate, she was his soul, she was his world, his mountains, his ocean, his forest and he was shouting to her from across time, "come let me love you".

Of course the song assumes love is eternal and their love is the rock on which their world is built. Their love can conquer anything! But, in my opinion, that is the greatness of the song. Okay, they didn't last forever, but they could have. And along comes the mushy, romantic, poet lover me one night and bellows the song out to a girl I had known for maybe two weeks and our relationship is sealed forever in the stars. I'll buy it! All of the cheese and the strings and the harmonies and the imagery, the good and the bad, make this a perfect love song. Annie's Song is not an essay like the two gay men watching the movie, one sentimental, the other bored. It is a state of mind; its own Rocky Mountain High if you will. Is pecan pie healthy? Is it recommended by the American Journal of Medicine for long life? Will it save the planet and heal the oceans? Or is it just a mouthful of heaven, and the memory of its wonderful taste lingers on, so that when you think of it days later, you smile?

Blog #5 Reading Response to My Filipino Roots

I chose blog about the article, My Filipino Roots, by Alex Espinoza. Alex details the facts of his heritage, his mixing of roots and the fact that these have no real bearing on his current identity. His indifferent environment and homogenized community shaped him more than the facts of his birth. He concludes by saying that he doesn't really care about his heritage.
He so reminds me of my best friend, Steve. Born Hiep S Tran in Vietnam during the war, he once told me the courageous and inspiring story of how his mother's faith in God brought them a miraculous escape to the US. His parents are wonderful people and always have some tasty Vietnamese dish to offer me when I come over. And when I call and ask for Steve, they say, “Hiep, he no here.” They escaped the war, yet embrace their heritage.
Hiep changed his name as soon as he got here. He now goes by Steve, prefers Burger King and hates talking in Vietnamese and only does it around his parents. He is so classically suburban American, and would never date an asian looking girl.
As I ponder the sadness of this lack of identity for one's roots, I remember that I am half German and half Scottish. I love German food and my grandmother taught me a few choice German phrases. I'd like to visit someday, but as far as passing on these roots to my sons? As far as Scotland, I loved Braveheart, and recall Mike Myers describing the persona of his Scottish father: happy one minute and could turn cranky in a split second. Am I like this because I'm Scottish or is it just my melancholic personality? I did want to get married in a kilt, until I found out a real one was $1000. I'd like to visit Scotland one day too, but just don't see the importance of being Scottish, especially if I have to eat Haggus!
So I am an American. My roots are in the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution. Of course they are also in Sesame Street and Mr Rogers, the Brady Bunch and the Bee Gees. As sad as it may sound to some, I believe in 200 years Star Wars will be on the same fabled level as Paul Bunyon and Davy Crockett. And my community is my family, my church, my actor friends, whose values come not from the collection of facts and locations, but from places in the heart.

Blog #6 My Community

In the year 2002 my life changed forever. That was the year I left bachelorhood and became a member of the Robinson Family Community. The Caruthers family was a loose collection of wildly different children my 2 parents adopted. When we grew up, we left, and when no one else was left, Mom and her husband moved to Arizona.
The Robinson family is very strange. When I first met Rebecca’s parents, their standard of acceptance was listening to her Father recite “The Butthole Poem”. The rules are really simple, even though I fought them at first. Everything belongs to the family, especially the grandchildren, and Grandpa is the head of the family, even when he is doing everything Grandma tells him too. My house belonged to them, and if they fixed a sink, then they could use the garage to paint their truck. Boy did I fight this! It seemed intrusive and manipulative and I even went so far as to call the police on my father in law when he knocked on the door, demanding his possessions. Oops, did I leave out the part where I gave his wife a stern lecture about interfering in our affairs, kicking her out of my house. Oh, and how could I forget that my second son was just born and we had to move the next day and I had just “fired” my help.
Well, things settled down and I realized that these people, whether I liked it or not, were my family and, more than that, they were my community. My wife calls her mother 2 and 3 times a day and her sisters at least once a day. And everyone is made aware of what everyone else is doing, their struggles, their joys, what their kids are up to. And every year, there is a birthday party for every member of the family. So, I am a Robinson now. I have listened very carefully to my father in law as he explains that, as the paternal figure, he takes on the responsibility of watching over the family, in prayer and in actions, like fixing cars and garbage disposals. And when he is over, fixing our station wagon, in the rain and the cold, I am out helping him, listening to his stories, his sermons, and his advice a little part of the little boy inside of me is happy again. I realize that these are the values I have wanted all my life, a close family, one that looks out for eachother.
Oh, did I mention he “knighted” me at my wedding?

Blog #3 Reading Response

I chose the reading, “Nerds: The New Players” for my strong identity with this group of people. The brief article cites Tobey Maguire and Harry Potter as examples of the new nerds and states that it isn't just nerds versus everyone else nowadays. The line, “Now there's no way to tell who gets the last laugh” is one that I applaud. He goes on to cite Tina Fey and Bill Gates as examples of nerds who made it big. And he makes the point that not every nerd gets to be famous.

I am a nerd. I am now proud of the fact. I used to deny it. But I have seen every single Star Trek movie (and most TV episodes) and every single Star Wars movie, as well as read several ST and SW novels. I love The Lord Of The Rings and wish I could find a nice Dungeons and Dragons group to join. And I was even thinking of becoming a Math major my first week back at college. I am a nerd.

I came from David Douglas High School in suburban Portland in the late 70s where it was very black and white. Nerds were nerds and the “cool people” were into sports, cheerleading and being popular. Little did they know some nerd in California, the biggest one of all, was at that time developing the system that each one of these people would store their data on! Nerds got called names and they got outcast and beat up. The names were mean and usually were gay slurs. If you were in Drama you were most likely labeled gay, whether you were or not. Boy did I love it when I was in the Army and some of these tough guys dropped out of runs. And this 130lb dork that used to play barbies with his sister, hated fixing cars and didn't even have a girlfriend till I was 18 would just laugh and tough it out and finish the run.

So I am glad that nerds are now taking over. I can't see them all, but I see film trailers where groups of nerds are the good guys in the story. And they are not all skinny and handsome. I see groups of friends my fifteen year old nephew has and they seem very comfortable in their nerdiness. Which is very good news for me since I raised two mommies boy nerds. Video games help I guess. You can be a hero playing Guitar Hero on a piece of plastic. In my day, if I was seen playing my tennis racket to Kiss or Peter Frampton I would have been pounded. Nowadays you can go on youtube and end up with your own TV show for being goofy.

Blog # 4 Who I Am

I am James Allen Caruthers.

I am the son of... I don't know. I am adopted. And somewhat afraid of finding them.

I am my mother Martha, I am artistic, naïve, critical and one hell of a drama queen. She taught me to read and to love school and to be a gentleman.

I am my father Jim, the angry, drunken man I hated in my teens, accepted in my twenties and then loved in my thirties. He taught me to be anal, to pack, to love math and architecture. Because of him I got beat up as a kid. Because of him I treated my wives like shit, lost the first one and damn near lost the current one. But I have no greater example of how prayer, faith and a new life can totally transform a man.

I am my friends Kevin, Jim and Donn, who opened new worlds to me, and at times I was at odds with them, thought they hated me or wanted nothing to do with me. But now, at 50, i am at peace with them and talk with them, if only on Facebook.

I am the music I love, the books and movies that have inspired me. I have been Bruce Springsteen, George Bailey, Kevin Costner, Bob Dylan, Jim Morrison, Ronald Reagan, Jimi Hendrix, Vincent Van Gogh, CS Lewis, Jack Bauer, Gilligan, Bill Cosby, Mick Jagger and Anthony Hopkins.

I am my friend Scott and the US Army. One great life experience that lead to an Eternal experience. High school was an irrelevant puff of smoke. The Army is what gave me confidence, training, a career, a wonderful experience and a wife... for a few years anyway. Scott introduced me to Jesus, who I thought was a redneck at first. And, after five years of procrastinating and being afraid to be one of “those people”, I said yes to Jesus, whom I still picture as Robert Powell in the Franco Zeferelli film.

Therefore, I am Jesus. The words I love say that He is in me and I am in Him. My life is hidden with Him and in His Father. I will live forever with Him in a paradise that, right at this moment, sounds a little annoying. They also say that except for Him, there is no other way, which means that, according to my beliefs, many will go on and not know Him and will be tormented... and I still am having a hell of a time with that one, pardon the pun. And this meeting 21 years ago has shaped my life, even at times I dream of being in the back seat in an empty car that is steered by no one and is going forward recklessly. This eternal confidence in a loving God does not blend well with, nor does it obliterate, my extreme lack of confidence in this planet and it's people, especially me. I hunger for His will, yearn to know Him, to walk like Him and have his compassion and understanding of people. And at the same time, grow to be bloatedly full of His yapping and constant nagging at my conscience. I don't want what He says and I can't hear Him when I desperately need Him and feel abandoned. And I tune him out. Just the same way I did my father at age 15. And there is a little guilt and there is overeating until those things make me sick and I come home to His love. And I remember why I said yes.

I am Larry Huch, the meanest son of a bitch currently on Christian TV. I was taken in by the cult of his personality and learned faith, learned to serve, was given an opportunity to act on stage, and I found my drug. Soon the golden statue cracked and once I knew the man, I hated the man, and all he stood for. I felt raped, abused, used, violated in my mind and my wallet and damn near tossed the whole thing away. I am his anger, that was masked as being driven and being a prophet. I am his doctrine and it is one Hell of an exorcism to rid myself of all the phony, outright lies of his faith and teachings on how to get from God.

I am Rebecca, my wife and my teacher, my example of how to smell the roses. The sweet young girl I met while doing a play. Who teaches me to control my temper at the same time she teaches my son. She teaches me to let go, just like she teaches my son. And I feel for her, especially when Toby and I are having tantrums and throwing things and screaming, “why doesn't it work”?
I am her love. I am her softness. I am her childlike faith, I am her rose colored glasses... and I pray that one day soon I will truly see as she sees and put on this love, this softness, this grace and faith, and ADD silliness in the face of an angry, critical world. And I will have an ice cream cone and watch all the other ants destroy themselves while I hold her hand and we walk through life happy and content.

I am my son Toby. The one who spoke to me at the ultrasound and said, “Hi, I'm Toby!” He is the first being that I know that I am truly related to and he is a slice of me, and all those who are me and have made me. I laugh when he laughs. I cry when he cries. I scream when he screams. He swears when I swear. And when I see him draw, or tell a morbid, yet wild story, or explain how he needs a cheeseburger and ice cream in the most expressive and dramatic way, using his whole body to tell it, I see the seed of me. The seed my parents didn't care to or didn't bother to recognize. And I want so much to water him and nurture him with my love and understanding. Protect him and cuddle him and shelter him from the horror flick that is Earth. But at times I get so mad at him, for the incredible crime of being himself, which is being me. And I laugh as I tell him to ask for help, knowing that it is something I dread.

To look in the mirror is not to see who I am. Who I am is who I have met and known. I don't know who I would be without these people. To miss out on any one of them would be a lesser me. Even though I swore at times, if I could go back I would avoid most of them. I see that I am stuck with them. I moan at the idea of calling my mother and father regularly, even though they are both states away, yet they will live in me till I die. What they did right I will try to do. What they did wrong I will try not to do. And if I fail, can I really think that I am somehow better than they are? Smarter? Have more knowledge and resources than they had? If I succeed, I am still no better. For they are many someones also.

Blog #3 The reading response

I read all three of the readings, but am focusing on the Joshua Bell article. It gives the account of world renowned violinist Joshua Bell performing at a Metro station in Washing DC. One morning he came and performed for 45 minutes during morning rush hour, at a station where a lot of federal employees are getting off their trains and heading to work. And here is my response (which may be a shitty first draft, but deadline is near and my wife really needs me to do something with the kids):

Dear Mr Weingarten,

I have read your article on the Joshua Bell incident and I have one thing to say to you, “thank you.” Yes, sir, thanks to you and your driveling, incessant, super sized value meal of a wordy, portentious article I now have the perfect piece to read my kids to sleep at night. First of all, this experiment is really hardly worthy of the three sentences I wrote describing the incident to my English Instructor, so this part is not your fault. They take a man hardly anyone knows (no reflection on his amazing talent) and stick him in the middle of a bunch of idiots going to their offices to continue their twisted mission of dragging this country even further into a bureaucratic quagmire it already is. OF COURSE THEY DIDN'T KNOW WHO HE WAS!! These people probably think Michael Bolton has talent and no doubt think that Michael Buble is the next Sinatra! You might as well have taken U2's Bono to a conference full of senior citizens trying to maximize their retirements and getting investment and medicare tips. Bono could walk right up to them, introduce himself, start singing “With or Without You”, and they would argue that Cher's husband died years ago and this man is an impostor! For God's sake, at least put the guy up on the Mall, with a little bit of commercialism around him, have some people listen who aren't tunnel-visioned. I would listen. I wouldn't know who he was. I'd probably contribute, myself a former street guitarist with slightly less talent than Mr Bell. So there's that.

Now, Gene, we come to you. And I do appreciate the background on Joshua Bell. You set the story up very well. But all those words to say basically nothing more than “famous guy plays and isn't recognized?” This is worthy of a Pulitzer?! And this bloated, triple-decker cheeseburger of excess vocabulary and portentious phrasing was just an excerpt? My God, what else was there to write about? Did you mention his shoe size, his favorite movies, the color of every passing stranger's socks in the full article? A Pulitzer? And you gloss over the fact that some Brazilian nitwit with no heart and soul calls the police on street musicians? Holy crap, Gene, this is the real crime of the story! Your writing is dull and it was a pain to read this article. I am reminded of a scene in “Amadeus” where the King says to Mozart, “too many notes”. And I am sure that you would see me as a bumbling king and no doubt envision your self as the Mozart of words, but I say to you, “too many words!” Were it not that I HAD to read this, I would have tossed it before the second paragraph.

Have a great day, Gene,
Jim Caruthers
Vancouver, Washington

Blog Post #2 The Movie Titanic

In 1998 I worked in a two person office with my good friend, Sarah. She is a James Cameron and Leonardo DiCapprio fan who saw Titanic twelve times. I saw it twice and thoroughly loved it. Also at the time I was living with 2 other guys and lived 2 blocks from a theater, so when I got bored or they were too loud I would walk over and see it again. I was a fan of the Titanic in High School and even built a model of the ship. I could tell you all the facts, and my only criticism of the movie is that I wanted them to delve into the facts and the politics of White Star and why the ship sank.

My impression of the film was an overwhelming love for the story of Rose and Jack. Being an artist myself, the story of Jack was highly romantic and inspiring: his lifestyle, his carefree attittude, his experiences drawing. I loved seeing the ship, even if it was computer generated. And, let's be honest, seeing Kate Winslett in the nude was not the most unpleasant part of the movie. Knowing a lot of people who are Christians, I heard how raunchy it was and that there was an unneccessary sex scene. I just tuned these people out. I had drawn nude models in college and after two minutes the fact that they are nude is no big deal. You are learning to see forms, and draw negative spaces, and you realize it's just Sue, and she's nice and she comments on your drawings. Granted, I may have enjoyed the female models more than the male, but most people would agree the female body is more artistically designed than the male. In summary, I totally wanted be Jack, loved his character and every time I saw the movie, it was a wonderful escape for 3 hours, where I lived the life of Jack.

Enter my lovely wife Rebecca a couple years later, and we are on a date, driving in the country and this movie comes up. Rebecca is a nice Christian girl and, sometimes, I am a nice Christian guy. She comes from a nice happy, Christian home, I come from a very dysfunctional, highly non-christian home and had my experience with God later in life and am still kind of working on it. Her view of the movie was quite different. She described the scene with Kate as soft porn, found it offensive to women and questioned how I could enjoy it. At one point she even asked me, “What if it was your daughter? Would you enjoy seeing her topless?” I was at a loss because I loved this woman, but she made me feel like a dirty old man for seeing the movie so many times. I believe we reached an uncomfortable truce and moved on. But there was no way I could relate my experience seeing the film, and the scene where she is drawn, as very romantic (the artistic definition of the word), very tastefully done and not offensive at all. In all fairness, I would have my boys leave the room if the scene was on, but they are 5 and 3.

So there we were, two people who very much love each other, have so much in common, cannot wait to get married and start a family... and yet this movie, for 15 minutes one Sunday, divided us. Both of us from completely different backgrounds and experiences, both of us seeing two different things based on our social conditioning.