Gates of Fire by Steven Pressfield

Just finished Steven Pressfield's "Gates of Fire,"  a best-selling historical novel published in 1998, about the Battle of Thermopyle in 480 BC, the decisive battle in the Greco-Persian wars.  It is a compelling story well-told of a fascinating period of history.  An excellent read about an event that defines the word "epic". 




It is, of course, the same storied event that was the subject of the popular movie "300" from 2006, by Frank Miller and Zack Snyder, although the book has a much different flavor, of course.  I enjoyed the movie, as well, and I highly recommend the book.  Here is a trailer for the movie:

300 Movie Trailer

This was the last of the books that I had been given last Christmas that I had not read.
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Chappaquiddick

I consider Mark Steyn's short essay on the legacy of Ted Kennedy essential to the present public discussion.

Michelangelo's Pieta

A passing reference in a book I am reading reminded me today of one of the most arresting works of art that I have ever seen, Michelangelo's Pieta. We saw it last April while in Italy, celebrating our 25th anniversary.

I have seen a lot of famous art in my life, and one of the blessings of our marriage is that Nancy and I both enjoy art museums and art history, as well as creating our own art.

Yet, nothing I had ever previously seen or read or thought I knew about Michelangelo and his legendary body of work prepared me for the exceeding beauty, the grandeur, the grace, and the power of this particular statue.

Located in St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, the heart of the Roman Catholic Church, this statue of Jesus' battered and lifeless body, cradled in the arms of his mother, Mary, simply must be seen to be appreciated. It is one of the few works that commands one's complete rapt attention when in it's presence. This is, of course, due in part to the solemnity of the subject and also to the majesty of its representation, hewn from stone and meticulously polished by the hand of a supremely gifted artisan. Far more than a mere religious icon, which, in Rome, number in the millions and towards which I am relatively inurred, I was taken aback by the unexpected wave of emotion and introspection that this image inspired.

Completed by Michelangelo in 1499, there are several interesting things about this statue's design. It has been noted that some of the body proportions of the two figures are not "right, " strictly speaking, due to the inherent difficulty of portraying a fully grown man splayed limply across the lap of a woman. Much like a painter, the artist seemed to understand that adjustments needed to be made so that , from the perspective of the viewer some distance away, the image would appear perfectly normal and natural. The overall shape of the sculpture is pyramidic, with the thick folds of Mary's clothing largely creating the necessary mass to balance the image and support it's overall effect.

While the subject of the Savior's mother in grief at the death of her Son was by no means unique, Michelangelo's depiction of Mary differed significantly from those that had come before. The image of Mary is clearly that of the serene, young, teenage virgin mother, not the grief-stricken, mature, 45-ish woman that she certainly was at the time of Jesus' crucifixion. There are a number of theoretical explanations for this, but the one I find the most compelling posits that Michelangelo is intentionally bridging Christ's birth to His death in this single image. The young virgin mother sees in her arms the precious little newborn baby whose selfless life will eventually lead Him to the fulfillment of prophecy at Golgotha. At the same time, we who view this scene are actually seeing the grim future, which is at once the greatest of victories, draped in sorrow and loss.



This statue has an interesting history, too, a summary of which can be read here.

Finally, if you have never travelled abroad or are intimidated by the idea or cost of going to a faraway country, I encourage you to reconsider. It is far easier and much less expensive than most people think and the rewards are incalculable. It will change forever the way you look at the world.

Btw, the top pic is mine. The bottom one is shamelesly purloined from Wikipedia.
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"The Last Lincolns" and Books I Haven't Read Yet.

As I mentioned a short time ago, I need a new category tag entitled "Books I Haven't Read Yet," so that I can offer unqualified recommendations and initiate uninformed discussion and opinions on books that look interesting but which I may or may not actually get around to reading.

Here is one such book, entitled "The Last Lincolns: The Rise and Fall of a Great American Family," by Charles Lachman.

Here is a blurb from the publisher:

Most books about Abraham Lincoln end on April 14, 1865, the day he was assassinated at Ford's Theatre. But that historic event takes place near the beginning of The Last Lincolns, a singular title in the vast output of Lincolnia and one of the most unusual books ever written on the sixteenth president and his family. Going far beyond that fateful day into uncharted territory, it's a gripping page turner written by a TV producer with proven storytelling skills. This absorbing American tragedy tells the largely unknown story of the acrimony that consumed the Lincolns in the months and years that followed the president's murder. This was not a family that came together in mourning and mutual sadness; instead, they fell out over the anguished mental condition of the widowed Mary. In 1875, Robert — the handsome but resentful eldest Lincoln child — engineered her arrest and forcible commitment to an insane asylum. In each succeeding generation, the Lincolns' misfortunes multiplied, as a litany of alcohol abuse, squandered fortunes, burned family papers, and outright dissipation led to the downfall of this once-great family.

Charles Lachman traces the story right up to the last generation of Lincoln descendants: great-grandson Bob Lincoln Beckwith, his estranged wife, Annemarie, and her son, Timothy Lincoln Beckwith. Bob, who was according to all medical evidence sterile, believes the son who bears the Lincoln name was the product of an adulterous affair. Annemarie, however, wanted the boy to be a "Lincoln," putting the child in line for a vast inheritance. There's even evidence — uncovered by Lachman for the first time — that a scheme to obtain possession of the Lincoln fortune was orchestrated by Bob Beckwith's chauffeur, who may have been the notorious outlaw and skyjacker, D.B. Cooper.

Published in advance of Abraham Lincoln's 200th birthday in February 2009, The Last Lincolns provides an unforgettable glimpse into the personal legacy left by the man who could unite a nation…but not his own family.

World War II History

I stumbled across a series of fascinating and unusual articles at Spiegel Online covering Nazi Germany. Most of the pieces incorporate new and and ongoing research into various historical topics.

Titles include:

• A recent trial of a 91-year old convicted Nazi war criminal who held up a pharmacy with a toy gun
• A reassessment of the bombing of Dresden
• New photos from concentration camps
• A look at the surviving members of Hitler's "Lebensborn" program to breed an Aryan super-race
• A study of the effects of rape trauma on the women of Eastern Germany in the last days of the war as the country was being overrun by invading Allied troops
• New research about looted art treasures and literature

And many more...

Points of Interest

Here is an article, a book review, actually, in Slate, that tells of some very recent, fascinating scholarship on the relationship between President Thomas Jefferson and his slave, Sally Hemings. Research shows that Jefferson's young concubine was also the half-sister of his deceased wife, Martha. A "Gordian-knot of family relationships."

Interesting, if somewhat unsettling news, from Discovery.com describes a brewmeister/mad-scientist who is brewing beer using yeast extracted from microbes harvested from a weevil encased in amber some 45 million years ago (sic). It is described as having a "smooth and spicy" flavor. Beer always finds a way.

Bacon Cinnamon Rolls. I haven't tried this recipe yet, but that is only because it is Sunday night, half-past nine, and the nearest roll of cinnamon rolls is sitting on a refrigerated shelf about 15 miles away. But count on it happening very soon.

I am married to an international travel photojournalist

Well, you knew that already from her Flickr pages. But go here to read an interesting online article about the opening of a recently discovered pagan tomb from the second century A.D. under St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. The author asked Nancy for permission to use a couple of her photos for the feature.

Art, History, and Architecture in Rome

One of the principal reasons we like to travel is to experience and learn about other cultures, in particular through art and history. Nothing opens one’s mind and expands one sense of and appreciation for other people more than actually going and seeing where and how they live.

Art and history are so intertwined in Italy that it is difficult, and probably pointless, for me to disassociate the two. It is seemingly impossible to consider either one without invoking the other.


The architecture of Italy is fascinating because it reflects both art and history, form and function, in very visceral, immediate way. When one enters the Pantheon, for example, one is compelled to consider simultaneously it’s obvious massive structure, profoundly classic design, and the astonishing constructional detail that goes into each square foot. And then comes the appreciation for the fact that it was completed in 125 A.D. under the authority of the emperor Hadrian. Considering that, still today, it holds the record for the world’s largest unreinforced concrete dome, and remembering that the building utensils of the time were mostly primitive hand tools made by other primitive hand tools, one is quickly overtaken by a sense of awe. The intricacy and intelligence of the design, and the surpassing beauty of the richly colored carved marble components is incredible. Incredible because of it’s age, because it has survived and continues to thrive some two thousand years later.


Throughout Rome, one sees ongoing restoration and preservation. Italy truly understands and values it's historical significance, to be sure. Just as we observed in Vienna a few years ago, there is an army of workers whose perpetual function is to protect, restore, and preserve the historical and artistic treasures. Something is being worked on all the time.  

More than once I marvelled at the careful and precise methods employed by construction engineers and contractors to simultaneously provide for the installation of modern necessities such as indoor plumbing, ventilation, cooking facilities, and reasonable access while at the same time retaining as much as possible the original look and feel of an ancient building.

One of the things that impressed me so much in all of these ancient structures, was the quality of the maintenance. Looking closely at one of the Pantheon's massive pillars, for example, one sees careful patching and repair work in places. But this is repair work that is most often several centuries old, performed by unknown contract artisans, long dead, using classic technique.

The same type of maintenance, repair and restoration was evident in the statuary rooms of the Vatican museums as well. The Vatican museums were fabulous, by the way. That is a "must see" if you go to Rome, and I will probably have a separate post on that at some point.

Again, I direct you to Nancy's Flickr page for her outstanding photo work.

Cobblestones

Many of the roads in old Rome are paved with black cobblestones, called sampietrini and they are, for the most part, a specific kind of porphyry, an igneous rock.  They come in different sizes and Rome is famous for them. These large ones are on the footpath in front of the Arco di Constantino, adjacent to the Colosseum.  Most of the stones used on the heavily traversed urban roads in central Rome are actually smaller.  

Here is a short, interesting article about the sampietrini.  It turns out they were invented and adapted as a paving material in the mid-1500's, under the authority of Pope Sixtus V, who looks very grumpy in this picture. (Frankly, most of the papal portraits we saw are pretty stern...it must be grim work.)

As it turns out, the current municipal government of Rome is beginning to replace it's cobblestones with that newfangled asphalt, which is making lots of other folks unhappy, too.  

1:47 A Documentary Film

photo by Ralph Pyle

"The year is 1968. Across the United States, it was a year of turmoil: the Vietnam War, Civil Rights protests in cities and on college campuses, the assassination of Martin Luther King. Yet, in many small cities and towns a relative calm, almost innocence, prevailed. The documentary film 1:47 tells the story of one such community - Richmond, Indiana - that would lose that calm and innocence in a single fateful day: Saturday, April 6, 1968."

On that fateful day, a massive double explosion rocked the downtown shopping area, not far from the courthouse. Destruction, death, and chaos ensued and this peaceful midwestern community was changed forever.

Richmond is our nearest "big city," roughly 15 miles south of where we live.  Last night, Nancy, my mom, my grandmother, and I went to see this locally-produced documentary in the old theater at the Richmond Museum of Art. It was an absorbing film, incorporating the remembrances of many of the local people whose lives were touched by this tragedy.  The filmmakers do a remarkable job, also, of illuminating the fascinating and important historical context that frames this event.  

1:47 is about to hit the documentary film circuit, and I hope it does very well.

Lemmings and the Luftwaffe

Some friendly online political banter with a good buddy of mine who, inexplicably, manages to vote incorrectly in every possible election reminded me of one of my favorite computer video games from yesteryear.

Yes, it was Lemmings. Go check out the link...some very interesting trivia about game design and stuff.

Another game that I truly, truly loved in the early days of computer games was Secret Weapons of the Luftwaffe, from LucasArts. I used to get up an hour early in the morning so that I could play this game before making breakfast for the family and going to work. It was a multi-faceted and challenging flight simulator, basically, that enabled you to fight WWII's air war over Europe. My favorite fighter plane was the P-51 Mustang, very closely followed by the P-38 Lightning which could rain an unbelievable torrent of death and destruction on the Nazis. The most difficult was the B-17 Bomber. Spectacularly rendered, it actually let you toggle amongst the pilot seat, various gunner turrets, and the bombardier's station to conduct battle. Flying one of those deep into Germany, doing some damage, and then flying all the way across Europe to land back on British soil was no easy task, even in the virtual realm. It was a difficult game to win and highly addictive.

If I had either of these today, I would get nothing done, I'm sure.

Color My World: Mauve

In the course of my job today, I found myself researching multi-colored microphone windscreens for a client. In reviewing the possibilities, I realized I really wasn't sure what the color Mauve looked like.

So, naturally, I did a websearch to see what came up and I was astonished at the amount of mauvelogical information that abounds.

Mauve has played a surprisingly influential role in science, history, culture, architechture, literature, fashion, film & TV, meterology, folklore, the occult, and, of course, art. Wikipedia has a very detailed article and all kinds of interesting referential links.

Mauve was discovered in 1856, by an 18-year old English chemist named William Henry Perkins, whose recent biography is entitled "Mauve". Fascinating. Who knew?

Treasures, buried and unburied

One of the things that I enjoy the most about living in the country here in eastern Indiana is how distinct the seasons are. Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter, each in its time, with its own beauty, and with it's own trials and joys. While there are many, many wonderful things about Texas, from whence we are transplanted, the seasonal progression there runs more like Hot, Hotter, Rainy, and Cold with the occasional milder interludes.

I love Texas, dearly, and for many reasons. But I enjoy and am fascinated by the geography and climate here in the rural Midwest. I am especially impressed with how, after each frozen winter, the rich and fertile farmland, which lies atop an active glacial field, renders surprising treasures. Like pieces of wood, floating up from the bottom of a lake, all manner, size, and type of sedimentary and metamorphic rock are squeezed up through the topsoil to the surface, to glint in the sunshine. There are beautiful, jagged chunks of crystal, in various colors, often laced with gold pyrite. Multi-hued pieces of striated granite ranging in size from that of a dime up to a basketball, strewn on top of the ground. There is sandstone, limestone, shale, and many kinds of rock that I can’t identify. Some are as sharp as a knife, others rounded as smooth as a marble. Three hundred pound boulders, completely submerged and invisible last year now jut up like an iceberg, ready to flay the blade of the farmer’s till or planter.

In the area around our house, I often pick up pieces of old glass, pottery, and brick, as well as bits of chain, old tools, coins, buttons, fence wire, horse tack, and similar things. Once I found a child’s ring under one of the trees in our yard, at least 50 years old and tarnished, but otherwise nearly perfectly preserved. Another time I found an unshaped clump of beautiful green glass. Since we moved here I have collected all of the glass and pottery bits and intend to make or commission something artistic out of them someday.

And there are treasures like the one pictured, which Nancy and I found as we took a walk through the fields this last Sunday evening. This is a great time of year for that. The fields are not yet planted and the weather is beautiful. It is not so uncommon to find arrowheads and other artifacts here on the farm. For at one time, in the mid-to-late 1700’s, this was the wilderness frontier, the unincorporated edge of the American West, inhabited primarily by Native Americans, principally the Shawnee and Miami tribes, as well as the Chippewa, the Wyandot, and the Potawatomi. The name, Indiana, means “Land of the Indians,” and our part of the state, in particular, was well populated and traversed. This region is rich in history, both grim and glorious, for Native Americans as well as the early European settlers.

My family has inhabited this land since the early 1800's, so I do feel connected to all of this history and beauty. And now another Spring has sprung, and we are glad to have it. It is a blessing to live here.

1:47 A Documentary Film

"1:47" is the name of a fascinating documentary film now in production that tells the story of a horrific explosion in 1968 that devastated downtown Richmond, Indiana, the city near which I live. Richmond is an interesting, historic town, and this was a very significant event, still very much remembered today.

Here is the link to the website on which you will see a short film trailer featuring photographic and interview footage of the disaster.

Movie Review: 300

Last weekend my son and I went to the movies. We saw 300, the new Frank Miller-inspired movie adaptation of the Battle of Thermopylae in 480 B.C. in which soldiers from an alliance of independent Greek states staved off an invasion by a huge Persian army against overwhelming odds. It is a great piece of history on its own and its military tactics, as well as its cultural significance, is still studied today. The movie, of course, was a fictionalized account centering on the 300 Spartan warriors under King Leonidas.

The look and feel of the film was great. Some folks won’t like the violence, but we’ve all seen worse, I think, and it was pretty stylized, comic-book style. I really liked the musical score too, alternately dense and minimalistic, symphonic and powerfully expressive.

The parallels between the story and our own modern times were inescapable and, surprisingly, wholly politically incorrect by typical Hollywood standards.

King Leonidas was not authorized to go to war and defied the law of the land to do so. The Spartan Senate was decidedly against what seemed to them an improper and provocative preemptive measure, deeming the Persian threat distant and improbable. Yes, the Persian threat. Leonidas took his troops to war anyway, recognizing that the unappeasable Xerxes, the Man-God, sought nothing less than the complete conquest and subjugation of the then Western world. While the King was fighting off the totalitarian, religiously fanatical invaders, there was great turmoil and treachery in the government back home as unscrupulous politicians sought to undermine the war effort abroad in any way possible.

This story of the violent clash between two cultures is an unmistakable analogue to our present world state today. The story ends essentially faithful to the historical account and I’m not interested in quibbling over the details.

What I liked about this movie, beyond its marvelous cinematic qualities and engrossing story was it’s moral clarity. There are good guys bent on doing what is right who would gladly die before seeing it any other way. And there are bad guys with evil designs who need to be encouraged to either go away or, barring that, need to be ushered into the presence of their Maker with as much haste as possible and as much violence as required. It is, at least in part, a movie about the price of freedom.

It’s just not that complicated.

Dogs in Space

This is excerpted from the Space Today Online website:

"Korabl-Sputnik-2 (Spaceship Satellite-2), also known as Sputnik 5, was launched on August 19, 1960. On board were the dogs Belka ( Squirrel) and Strelka (Little Arrow). Also on board were 40 mice, 2 rats and a variety of plants.

After a day in orbit, the spacecraft's retrorocket was fired and the landing capsule and the dogs were safely recovered. They were the first living animals to survive orbital flight. Strelka later gave birth to six puppies, one of which was given to Caroline Kennedy, daughter of U.S. President John F. Kennedy, by Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev.

Today, the bodies of Strelka and Belka remain preserved at the Memorial Museum of Astronautics in Moscow. Belka sits in a glass case in the museum while Strelka is part of a traveling exhibit that has visited the U.S., China, Australia, Israel and other countries."

The photograph is from a Library of Congress photograph collection. Stumbling over one of the cutest dog pictures I've ever seen inspired me to do a little research on it's subjects.

Random Nostalgic Interlude

Here's a picture of the aforementioned red 1978 Honda Civic. What an excellent car that was. Quick, reliable, sporty, and she had an excellent sound system, cassette-based, of course, which was pretty hot technology at that point. She could hold a prodigious amount of dirty laundry for those monthly trips home from college, not to mention the various road trips across Texas in pursuit of adventure and romance.

And I look pretty spiffy there in my matching Dallas Tornado band shirt, too. One of my first professional musician jobs was playing trumpet for the Dallas Tornado, a pro soccer franchise. It was kind of a cross between a typical sports "pep band" (I've always hated that term) and a kind of ersatz Dixieland jazz group. They couldn't afford real musicians so they hired a handful of high school and college players along with a couple of wheezy has-beens who had let their union cards drop. It didn't pay very much, but it was fun at the time, I'm sure, and good experience. Nowadays a gig like that would be torture. Although, it might be fun to play electric guitar in an NHL band, if there were such a thing... How things change.

I've been mostly offline the last couple of days with connectivity problems. Even now my cable modem connection seems tenuous. Consequently I am behind in my professional obligations. Business seems to have slowed up a bit, too. Back to work, we've got mouths to feed and tuition to pay for.

Listening: Disk 2 of the Frank Zappa Box Set, "Shut Up 'n Play Yer Guitar". FZ was an extraordinary electric guitarist, his pottie mouth not withstanding. This has two of my favorites, "Variations on the The Carlos Santana Secret Chord Progression" and "Gee, I Like Your Pants". His playing often sounds manic and chaotic, but is, in fact, completely intentional. Like everything else Zappa, its not for everybody.

Heather's Meme

Technically, it may not be Heather's meme, I can't say for sure, but she is to blame for me knowing about it and perpetuating its viral propagation. Just don't get stuck on the second question...push on through.

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1. Who was your best friend? There was a plurality: David Reinhard, Craig Dalton, Lee Davis. Also Jean Liebensberger and Beth Leadabrand were very special friends. Lord, bless them all.

3. What kind of car did you drive? I didn’t get a car until I graduated, actually, so I drove my parents’ cars. After graduation, though, I got a bright red 1978 Honda Civic Hatchback from my grandparents. Sweet ride.

4. It’s Friday night, where were you? In the marching band, during football season. Off-season, hanging out with friends.
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5. Were you a party animal? No.

6. Were you considered a flirt? In my dreams. In reality, I was a teenage serial monogomist.

7. Ever skip school? Not that I recall.

8. Were you a nerd? Yep. Band geek.

9. Did you get suspended/expelled? No.

10. Can you sing the fight song? No, but if I still had my trumpet chops, I bet I could play it.

11. Who was your Favorite teacher? Jim Sitton, Physics I & II. The second year was one of the hardest classes I’ve ever taken. Ever. Nearly killed me, but it was fascinating. He was a great teacher, though. Fortunately, I had good lab partners. David Reinhard and Russ Carpman, both of whom grew up to become actual, bona fide rocket scientists.

12. Favorite class? Band, then English

13. What was your school’s full name? Nimitz High School

14. School mascot? Vikings

15. Did you go to Prom? Yes

16. If you could go back and do it over, would you? No. I mean, it wasn’t so bad, but…no.

17. What do you remember most about graduation? Ours was a pretty big school and I remember the ceremony took forever, it seemed. I remember having a very enjoyable time talking to Kathy Pietens who sat next to me. Until that day, we really had never taken the time to get to know one another, even though we had been alphabetically adjacent for years. I wonder how she is after all these years.

18. Who was your high school sweetheart? Jennifer, mostly, but definitely Jean, too.

19. Where were you on senior skip day? I don’t think we had one. If we did, I missed it.

20. Did you have a job your Senior year? Yes. I worked at a dry-cleaners. I was like the assistant assistant manager. It was a decent gig, really...I got me some stories.

21. Where did you go most often for lunch? The school cafeteria.

22. Have you gained weight since then? Oh yeah.

23. What did you do after graduation? University of North Texas, School of Music

24. When did you graduate? 1978

25. Who was your Senior prom date? Jennifer.

26. Are you going to your 10yr class reunion? Been there, done that, and enjoyed it. A long time ago. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to make it to any subsequent reunions.

27. Who was your homeroom teacher? Varied from year-to-year, I think. Most often, Mr. Haberkamp, the band director.

28. Who will repost this after you? Probably nobody…

24 Years Ago Today - Part II

This was the picture on the front of the card that my wife gave me for our anniversary yesterday. It is an excellent photograph, and it evoked a couple of different ideas and memories.

For me, I was first struck by the anxious pose, the sense of high expectancy. The details, too, are interesting; the white box on table, the old bed with the chenille bedspread, and the tiny frame on the wall. What it made me think of, honestly, was the imagery of the bride described in the Song of Solomon. And no, not because everything I see automatically reminds me of something biblical, but because I recently reread that short, mysterious little book and it was fresh on my mind.

To my wife, the picture brought back a completely different kind of memory. On the day of our wedding, her parents went ahead to the church to finalize preparations and Nancy was supposed to come later. Well, somehow, in all the hubub, whoever was supposed to come back, pick her up, and take her to the church forgot about her. So, as the time for the wedding approached, Nancy became more and more anxious. She made phone calls to the church, she tried calling her friends and bridesmaids, but was unable to reach anyone. (Kids, yes, this was before cellfones.)So, she started getting dressed at home, putting on the white dress, collecting her things, watching out the window, and become increasingly agitated with each passing moment.

In tears, she was just folding herself in to her own (subcompact) car, wedding dress, make-up and all to drive herself to the church when her brother, Steve, showed up to collect her. Her relief at his arrival was fleeting, though, as they both realized how very little time there was before the wedding was to start. So they sped to the church as fast as they could. But the suffering was not yet over.

When she arrived at the church, she was told that she could not come in yet because the photographers had to take pictures of the groom (me) and his entourage, including Steve who had gone off to get Nancy and just returned. And, of course, we couldn't risk an accidental bride-sighting, so she was effectively locked out of the church, in the cold January drizzle for 15 minutes longer, in her wedding dress, and now in a furious and frantic state of mind. Finally, she was let in and was quickly led away and attended to by her mom and her friends. She was fully ready to kill people at that point, I believe, but somehow restrained herself and refocused her energies on the final preparations necessary and soon, at the appointed time emerged at the back of the sanctuary complete and radiant, the very picture of grace and beauty.

I was happily oblivious to all of this drama, I must say, and only heard about it later at the reception. But it is one more special memory that we share from 24 years ago.

photo credit: "A Young Bride in Oakes, N. Dakota" (c) by Michael Rouugier, Life Magazine/Time Inc & Notecard/Time Inc.

24 Years Ago Today, Part I

24 years ago today Nancy and I were married at an Episcopal church in Irving, Texas. It was a cold, rainy, crazy whirlwind of a day chock full of memories, some crystal clear, some hazy, and all cherished.

It was a big wedding, or at least we thought it was, with some 400 people showing up. We had invited everyone we could think of, to be honest, just because we couldn’t think of any reason not to. So, in addition to family, we had friends from both of our high schools, plus all of our friends from college (University of North Texas), work, and pretty much anybody else that wanted to come was welcome, as well.

Some especially memorable elements include my brother being the Best Man who, among other things, saw to it that I did, in fact, get some food and champagne at the reception.

Also, the Men's Chorus from the Gamma Theta Chapter of Phi Mu Alpha provided some wonderful music for us. I had been president of this collegiate professional music fraternity for two years and having them sing at my wedding was a very special honor. That group included some of my closest friends.

My groomsmen included Craig Dalton, who had been one of my closest friends in high school, having taught me my first guitar licks. Also Don Phelps, a trumpet player, frat brother, and really great guy who is today a Lutheran pastor in Illinois. And, of course, Nancy's brother Steve Hockett, who cheerfully volunteered to help me escape out the back door if I felt the need. I didn't, thankfully, but he has always been a great brother-in-law...albeit a confirmed bachelor to this day.

Nancy's Maid of Honor was Julie Ringler, her best friend from high school. The other bridesmaids were Katherine Grimm, her college roommate, as well as Theresa Scott another high school friend, and Laura Dalton.

We have had a great marriage. Neither of us can believe it is really 24 years, to be honest, because it doesn't seem like it could have been that long ago. It has not always been easy, by any means, because it is hard work to be married. We've had good times and bad times, just like everybody else. We are well aware that we are not particularly special - it is only through the mercy and blessings of God that we have made it this far. And with His blessing, we hope for many, many more years together. Until death do us part.