Why We Are Here

This is a cool little love letter to the Twin Cities. Well, it's kind of Minneapolis-centric, and the majority of it looks to have been filmed in Northeast or just across the Stone Arch Bridge in the Mill district. But you get the point.

Why We're Here: Twin Cities from Seven and Sixty Productions on Vimeo.

Small World (Flaketown Division)

I've decided Eileen Campbell-Reed needs to come to town more often, because I do way more fun cultural stuff when she's here.

So tonight ECR, Tim K. Snyder, and myself went to the Black Dog to hear a jazz trio, one member of which (Nathan Hanson) is a friend of ECR's.

As we were waiting for them to start, Eileen told a story of how she and Chris made a small-world connection of their own a couple years ago, as they realized Eileen's friend Nathan is the brother of one of Chris' best friends from seminary.

During the set break Nathan came over to talk to us. Some other friends of his had to leave so they came over to say goodbye, then they turned and looked at me and said "You're from Forest Lake, right?" and they knew who I was and pronounced my name correctly. I did not recognize them so I was like, "Yeeaahh. . .are you guys from Forest Lake?" And as soon as they told me their names I knew who they were (in fairness to not recognizing them by sight: he's grown a beard and she is hugely pregnant, which is not how I knew either of them in high school).

After they left it turned out Nathan had a connection to Flaketown as well - he's taught off and on at the Music Connection over the past twenty years, knows all my old band directors.

It's a crazy small world after all. . .

The Dude Turns 30

If you see this guy around town today (Friday) wish him a happy birthday.

Then tell him to quit making me feel old! :)

Love you bro!

How to Have Fun When It's F-F-F-Freakin Cold

Dinner at Solera.

Followed by Nellie McKay and the Aristocrats at the dakota.

Happy Birthday to the fabulous Eileen Campbell-Reed, whose natal day was Tuesday and provided the impetus for this night on the town.

Happy Birthday to the marvelous Mary Hess, whose natal day was actually today (I'm still counting this as Friday, I haven't gone to bed yet).

And props to the person I passed on my way home who was out riding a bike, at midnight, when it is 4 degrees and actively snowing. You are either really stupid or really hard core. Normally I'd think you were a candidate for the Darwin awards, but I'm feeling benevolent after a good concert, so I'm gonna go with hard core and tip my Turtle Fur hat to you, good sir or madame (hard to tell the difference these days when everybody is bundled up the wazoo).

Now, for your viewing enjoyment, a little Nellie McKay:

Thank You to God For Making Me An Atheist

This was Ricky Gervais' closing line at tonight's Golden Globes, as the camera was panning out and the credits were rolling.

He probably didn't intend it this way, but I found it funny because my classmate Jason has been arguing for the past two weeks that Christianity makes atheism possible.

Should make for interesting class and extra-curricular conversation tomorrow.

Now is the Winter of Hermes Discontent

I've missed wintry winters the last 5 years, so I don't really mind the snow and the cold.

But my poor car is another story. Hermes has resorted to nonviolent tactics to protest our return to the motherland. The rebellion has been slow but steadily progressive.

It started in late November when one of the rear door locks froze up.

Then driving through all that snow in December caused one of the wheel wells to develop a permanent ice dam that would not chip away for anything.

That finally melted during the "thaw" the week after Christmas. But then just before I left for Pennsylvania one of the headlights started dying. It's not dead yet, but it's pretty darn dim.

Now tonight, I noticed a raspy noise coming out of the vents - something is going on with the fan for the heating system.

Guess it's time to call the shop. . .

BTW, MN DOT - what's your deal today? It wasn't snowing all that hard or fast tonight but the roads were awful and the freeway was a free-for-all because no one could see where the freaking lanes were. Epic fail.

Hey Wait a Minute. . .

When people ask me where I'm going to school, I can never just say "Luther" because half the time they think I'm talking about Luther College in Decorah, Iowa. I always have to specify that I go to Luther Seminary (and even then, a good chunk of the people are still confused and say, "Oh, down in Iowa?").

My cousin Andrew is in fact a student at Luther College. And it occurred to me today: Andrew is this very moment eating and sight-seeing his way across Italy for a January term class on culture.

I am spending the January term in Minnesota, considering my vocation as a theologian and slogging my way through Wolfhart Pannenberg.

I am beginning to think I have enrolled at the wrong Luther. . . ;)

Mine is the Church Where Everybody's Welcome

Mine is the church where everybody’s welcome.
I know it’s true ‘cause I got through the door.
We are a dazzling bouquet of every kind of flower.
Jump in the vase, ‘cause we’ve got space for more.
-"A Dazzling Bouquet" by Bret Hesla

Officially all the transfer paperwork was taken care of by late November, and I became a member of Salem the Sunday of the blizzard. But the blizzard kept a number of us (myself included) from making it to church that day, so we were publicly welcomed into the community this morning.

On the one hand, it was a sad day, entailing the loss of an official connection to people I still care about back in Pennsylvania, and another little death to be endured in this transition from pastor to PhDland.

On the other hand, it was a joyful day to become a member of this amazing part of the body of Christ here in Minneapolis.

I love this congregation for many reasons. I love that they are indeed a dazzling bouquet where everyone is welcome, and worship reflects that as people of diverse ages, ethnicities, genders, sexual orientations, socioeconomic statuses, talents, interests, etc, gather every week to praise God and support one another in this life of discipleship.

I love that they are radically committed to ministry in their neighborhood, so much so that they are continually willing to die to their old selves and blossom into the new life that God is working in them and through them and with them.

I love that they are in the wilderness. Increasingly I am convinced this is the best place for a church to be, because the wilderness is where the people of God are truly shaped into the people of God; it's where our utter dependence on God is unavoidably and sometimes painfully obvious; it's where we are most focused on essentials (and least distracted by the crap) and most open and receptive to the Spirit; it's by living on the margins that we become more attuned to and empathic with all who are marginalized. This wilderness wandering is all the more impressive and intriguing considering the congregation physically exists in what is functionally the center of American Lutherandom.

I love that Jen is a great preacher and a great leader who makes it easy to be back in the pew instead of up front and in charge. I also love that she's a great colleague who welcomes my gifts and invites opportunities for me to keep playing in the sandbox of congregational life.

I love how friendly and welcoming pretty much everyone has been since the first day I walked in the door.

. . .so jump in the vase, 'cause we've got space for more!

Twitterpated

Last week I was in PA visiting Breen, Patrick, and the bambino. A lot of thoughts churning around in my head in relation to this visit, but for tonight, it's just about the bambino.

I think we've all been pretty smitten with her since the day she was born, but I also have to say, she gets more amazing by the day. I swear I witnessed synapses forming as she would intently work out how to do something she didn't yet know how to do. Absolutely incredible. And so much fun, she is a happy baby and a joy to be around.

And I'm in trouble because she has completely got my number. I got into town on Tuesday night, by Wednesday morning she had me figured out, knew how to get me to do whatever she wanted: carry her around, sing to her, make silly faces at her, feed her a bottle, change a poopy diaper. . .there is nothing I wouldn't do for this kid and she already knows it.

But seriously, could you say no to this adorable face?

My New Favorite Trainwreck

Worst Cooks in America.

I know it's not polite to stare, but I just can't look away. These people make me feel like a gourmet chef in comparison.


It's not that I can't cook, mind you. I have my specialties, and I can do a decent job on just about anything as long as I have a recipe to follow.

But my main point of comparison is Breen and Patrick, who have a much larger repertoire of specialties, who regularly make "simple" meals like taco night into gourmet fare, and who can Iron Chef their way out of any situation. Though they protest, I know my cooking is banal next to theirs.

But set me alongside the folks on this show and I've suddenly got the culinary powers of Mario Batali and Cat Cora rolled into one. :)

Because There's a Below

Breen's mom Cindy has this great story about a friend of hers who moved to Minnesota 30-odd years ago.

The friend moved here from California or some other such generally warm and sunny place. She moved in the middle of the summer.

One day she finally asked Cindy, "Why do they always say 'above' on the weather report?"

"What do you mean?" asked Cindy, having grown up here and never noticed this before.

"You know, when they give the weather on the news, they say 'It will be 75 above today.' Why don't they just say 'It will be 75 today,' why do they always add that 'above'?"

"Because there's a below."


'tis the season. Happy New Year!