One thing that I found interesting as I wrote were the secondary characters who shared this story with Quin. I ended up liking most of them more than Quin and this was certainly true of Jack Preston...
He had been in his office for perhaps a little more than half an hour after his final class of the day. He had been trying to sit and not think when the knock on the door startled him out of his trance. He jumped and said, “It’s open,” with an edginess that surprised him. Immediately he felt like a moron, “Who responds that way to a knock on their office door?”
“Rough first day Holsten?” a gravelly male voice boomed.
Quin jumped to his feet and laughed, “Well, well Jack Preston, Mr. Presto, how long has it been?” He laughed again grabbed Jack Preston’s hand. His grip like everything else about Jack was strong and enthusiastic.
“Too long my friend. It’s good to see you. I can’t believe it, Quin the Eskimo has returned.” Jack nicknamed Quin that in high school, because he appeared so cool on the pitching mound, plus he loved the Manfred Mann song. Jack was shorter than Quin but very strong and athletic looking still. Quin had much more of a former athlete look with a slowly but ever growing pot-belly and the pasty white skin of someone who rarely if ever gets outside.
“So Professor how many young Hemingways you got in your Intro to Lit. Classes?”
“Probably about as many as you’ve got Nolan Ryan arms on your baseball team.”
Preston laughed. Jack Preston. Quin knew when he took the position that this time would come. Jack Preston had been one of his better friends at Appendix High School. Jack was his catcher and a very good hitter in high school. He didn’t have much speed, but he hustled and had played his guts out during every game. Jack talked, slept and ate baseball. He was a decent student, but not naturally gifted like Quin. But, he worked hard at being a student also, and he had made grades good enough to put him on the honor roll. He also used his determination to pry himself into Notre Dame with much help from the local priest.
After four years at Notre Dame as a walk on with the Baseball team, Jack had spent four years as a graduate assistant, while he earned his Masters in Business Administration. He had jumped at the opportunity to move back to Appendix when the opening came up at St. Christopher’s as Athletic Director and baseball Coach. The season before he took over, the St. Christopher Travelers had won only one game, but since he had been at the helm they had consistently been making progress. Last season they had been around .400 and he vowed that one season they would break the .500 barrier.
“Sorry it took me so long to come see you, Quin, but I wanted to give you a chance to get settled, and get used to your surroundings. Besides that I had to get my players squared away with classes. This place is a ways from Stanford, ain’t it?”
“That it is, Jack, but it’s good to be here and good to be back around home.” Quin lied blandly.
“You don’t seem very convincing. Hey how about I buy you a few drinks and a big fat juicy steak and we’ll get reacquainted?”
“Maybe another time, I’m still settling in trying to prep for my classes.”
“Come on man, you look like you could use a drink.”
“That’s more true than you know.” Quin thought, but said “Maybe another time.”
“Come on let’s go, just a couple of drinks if you don’t have time for supper.”
Quin replied flatly, “Listen Jack, I got out of rehab 4 years ago, so I’m going to have to pass on the drinks.”
Jacks voice and face fell a little, “No kidding? Man I’m sorry. I had no idea. I’m really sorry. I feel like an ass”
Quin chuckled slightly and was beginning already to feel better just from having Jack around. Jack emitted a contagious nervous energy, and Quin found it rather amusing that his old friend was uncomfortable. “Don’t sweat it Jack, it wasn’t your fault.” Quin laughed slightly at his own little lame joke and continued, “And besides I didn’t die I just detoxed. And I think maybe I will take you up on that steak. I didn’t give up eating.”
“That’s great. Quin the Eskimo in the flesh, dinner’s on me man. You know as a Coach and AD here I’m pulling down the big bucks.”
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Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
The power of story and Quin's first day of class
The story theme continues in this section as Quin begins teaching his classes. This section revolves around what Quin once believed about stories but no longer does...
His new office was a small, square windowless room painted institutional white at the end of the hall of the English department. He always chuckled a little bit under his breath when it was called “The Department.” “The Department" consisted of three drab middle-aged individuals who smelled constantly of tobacco smoke and occasionally of alcohol. There were two males and one female, who was the department head. After his formal interview with the college president and the dean, he had had an informal interview with the three of them. They had peppered him with cynical questions about literature and prying questions about his personal life. One of the males remembered him as a pitcher for Appendix and had tried without success to get Quin to tell some exciting baseball stories.
In the end, they had assigned him the Literature classes, because in their middle-aged cynicism they had become convinced that really the only worthwhile thing to teach in language was the proper grammar of written communication. "All they're after, Quin, is the ability to write a resume that does not make them look like a moron." It was in this department that Quin took up his post as Associate Professor of Literature.
First Day of Class
Any class of literature he had ever taught, he had begun the same way with what he called his “power of the story” lecture. Basically he simply regurgitated an old paper that he had written as an undergraduate. The paper was about the importance of stories, and how society as a whole was in trouble because it had lost its connecting narrative. It had been a good paper for an undergrad. His professor had given him an A minus, and told him that the paper would have received an A, if it had not been a week late.
He always felt a little proud when he read it over as he prepped for classes, but at the same time was always somewhat embarrassed by the naiveté and the passion expressed in the paper. So, he toned down the passion and added what he hoped was a bit of realism, but mostly it was the same paper he had written twenty years ago when he was a bright kid who thought he was in love and knew he could throw a baseball really hard.
It always began the same. “Good Morning, I am Professor Quin Holsten. I would like you to call me Quin, because I am not above you, but someone who is merely on a journey with you. A journey in the pursuit of truth, it is a dangerous journey, but a journey that is completely rewarding.”
He did not believe a word of the beginning, but he could present it with such flair that he just could not bring himself to cut it. After the dramatic beginning the presentation lagged a little bit. It lagged when he told the students that he would like to assign them seats, so that he could better learn their names as they journeyed together. That of course was a lie. His department head had demanded that he take roll every day and a seating chart was the easiest way to take care of the task.
After the brief lull for the seating chart business, the presentation began again, and once again Quin launched into his performance, “So we are today embarking on this perilous journey in the hope of finding truth. We are searching for the truth about the world around us, and the truth about our society. We are looking for the truth about our friends, and the most dangerous of all, the truth about ourselves. The vehicle for our journey is story. We are the sum total of our stories. Our society is the sum total of our collective stories. In fact that is why society seems to be coming apart at the seams. We’ve forgotten our stories, and we’re beginning to doubt that it is even possible to tell a story that would make sense of it all. We are lacking what our friends in the philosophy department would call the metanarrative. The metanarrative is the one great connecting story that holds all other stories together.”
“We in this class are going to set out on a journey for the Big Truth capital T, for the metanarrative, by telling lots of little stories, mini-narratives, and by listening to many little narratives. When we do we will discover that the Truth, big T, is found in listening to our own truths, little t, found in our own little stories.
“The very date is a testimony to the power of stories. We live in the year 2003 AD. The date harkens back to a storyteller. Jesus was probably one, if not the greatest teachers of truth to ever walk the earth and the reason that he was such a great teacher was that he was a great storyteller. What his stories did was to give hope to his audience that they too could be caught up in a story. In the end people who wished to subdue the truth killed him, because they didn’t like the truth that his stories revealed about them. But killing him did not prevent his stories from living on, because there is power in stories.”
Quin really warmed up during this part of his lecture, invariably he thought, “how broadminded and inspiring I sound” and at the same time he heard a little nagging grating voice, “you’re a scoundrel you don’t believe a word of this.”
“I challenge each of you to begin to honestly listen to the truth that is hidden in your story. Your first assignment is the telling of your story. Three pages typed double-spaced.”
Quin loved making the speech, but within minutes of finishing he was already dreading having to read the papers that would be turned in. They would be a series of random events with no connection, most likely poorly written, and even more poorly punctuated. He grew depressed just thinking about it. He knew that there was no way that the silly little small “t” random events that these kids would turn into him would add up to anything like a big “T.” Even still, he liked making the speech. “The play’s the thing.” He mumbled to himself as he stared blankly at one of the institutional white walls of his windowless office.
His new office was a small, square windowless room painted institutional white at the end of the hall of the English department. He always chuckled a little bit under his breath when it was called “The Department.” “The Department" consisted of three drab middle-aged individuals who smelled constantly of tobacco smoke and occasionally of alcohol. There were two males and one female, who was the department head. After his formal interview with the college president and the dean, he had had an informal interview with the three of them. They had peppered him with cynical questions about literature and prying questions about his personal life. One of the males remembered him as a pitcher for Appendix and had tried without success to get Quin to tell some exciting baseball stories.
In the end, they had assigned him the Literature classes, because in their middle-aged cynicism they had become convinced that really the only worthwhile thing to teach in language was the proper grammar of written communication. "All they're after, Quin, is the ability to write a resume that does not make them look like a moron." It was in this department that Quin took up his post as Associate Professor of Literature.
First Day of Class
Any class of literature he had ever taught, he had begun the same way with what he called his “power of the story” lecture. Basically he simply regurgitated an old paper that he had written as an undergraduate. The paper was about the importance of stories, and how society as a whole was in trouble because it had lost its connecting narrative. It had been a good paper for an undergrad. His professor had given him an A minus, and told him that the paper would have received an A, if it had not been a week late.
He always felt a little proud when he read it over as he prepped for classes, but at the same time was always somewhat embarrassed by the naiveté and the passion expressed in the paper. So, he toned down the passion and added what he hoped was a bit of realism, but mostly it was the same paper he had written twenty years ago when he was a bright kid who thought he was in love and knew he could throw a baseball really hard.
It always began the same. “Good Morning, I am Professor Quin Holsten. I would like you to call me Quin, because I am not above you, but someone who is merely on a journey with you. A journey in the pursuit of truth, it is a dangerous journey, but a journey that is completely rewarding.”
He did not believe a word of the beginning, but he could present it with such flair that he just could not bring himself to cut it. After the dramatic beginning the presentation lagged a little bit. It lagged when he told the students that he would like to assign them seats, so that he could better learn their names as they journeyed together. That of course was a lie. His department head had demanded that he take roll every day and a seating chart was the easiest way to take care of the task.
After the brief lull for the seating chart business, the presentation began again, and once again Quin launched into his performance, “So we are today embarking on this perilous journey in the hope of finding truth. We are searching for the truth about the world around us, and the truth about our society. We are looking for the truth about our friends, and the most dangerous of all, the truth about ourselves. The vehicle for our journey is story. We are the sum total of our stories. Our society is the sum total of our collective stories. In fact that is why society seems to be coming apart at the seams. We’ve forgotten our stories, and we’re beginning to doubt that it is even possible to tell a story that would make sense of it all. We are lacking what our friends in the philosophy department would call the metanarrative. The metanarrative is the one great connecting story that holds all other stories together.”
“We in this class are going to set out on a journey for the Big Truth capital T, for the metanarrative, by telling lots of little stories, mini-narratives, and by listening to many little narratives. When we do we will discover that the Truth, big T, is found in listening to our own truths, little t, found in our own little stories.
“The very date is a testimony to the power of stories. We live in the year 2003 AD. The date harkens back to a storyteller. Jesus was probably one, if not the greatest teachers of truth to ever walk the earth and the reason that he was such a great teacher was that he was a great storyteller. What his stories did was to give hope to his audience that they too could be caught up in a story. In the end people who wished to subdue the truth killed him, because they didn’t like the truth that his stories revealed about them. But killing him did not prevent his stories from living on, because there is power in stories.”
Quin really warmed up during this part of his lecture, invariably he thought, “how broadminded and inspiring I sound” and at the same time he heard a little nagging grating voice, “you’re a scoundrel you don’t believe a word of this.”
“I challenge each of you to begin to honestly listen to the truth that is hidden in your story. Your first assignment is the telling of your story. Three pages typed double-spaced.”
Quin loved making the speech, but within minutes of finishing he was already dreading having to read the papers that would be turned in. They would be a series of random events with no connection, most likely poorly written, and even more poorly punctuated. He grew depressed just thinking about it. He knew that there was no way that the silly little small “t” random events that these kids would turn into him would add up to anything like a big “T.” Even still, he liked making the speech. “The play’s the thing.” He mumbled to himself as he stared blankly at one of the institutional white walls of his windowless office.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Quin returns to Appendix
Quin returns to Appendix
Quin had landed a job at St. Christopher Community College teaching English Literature. His class load was three freshmen level introduction to literature classes. The work suited him. He wanted low-key, low-stress work. He could teach those classes with minimum preparation. He figured most of his students would be mediocre at best, and they would be simply taking a few classes to avoid the reality of work and life after high school. He also guessed that they would be somewhat lazy, and it would be difficult to get them too fired up about Literature. That was fine with him. He was not that fired up about literature, himself, and he had no illusions about his ability to excite students.
His dreams of being Robin Williams’ Character in Dead Poets Society had vanished within the first three weeks of his first teaching assignment. In his thinking he was little more than a teacher at a high school with ashtrays, as the students of St. Christopher’s were fond of saying.
Of course he said none of this when he applied for the work. He had been sophisticated, witty and very convincing, as he said that he knew teaching was his life's work. He almost convinced himself, but he knew that he really had no idea what his life's work was other than trying to avoid pain, disappointment and failure.
Arriving during the week of the carnival gave him three weeks before the start of classes. He had more than enough time to find an apartment, spend some time avoiding seeing people and prep for his classes. He stayed away from his office on campus until the five days before classes began. He mainly holed up in his apartment, drank gallons of decaf coffee and stared out the window, and occasionally he would take a deep breath and sigh.
Quin had landed a job at St. Christopher Community College teaching English Literature. His class load was three freshmen level introduction to literature classes. The work suited him. He wanted low-key, low-stress work. He could teach those classes with minimum preparation. He figured most of his students would be mediocre at best, and they would be simply taking a few classes to avoid the reality of work and life after high school. He also guessed that they would be somewhat lazy, and it would be difficult to get them too fired up about Literature. That was fine with him. He was not that fired up about literature, himself, and he had no illusions about his ability to excite students.
His dreams of being Robin Williams’ Character in Dead Poets Society had vanished within the first three weeks of his first teaching assignment. In his thinking he was little more than a teacher at a high school with ashtrays, as the students of St. Christopher’s were fond of saying.
Of course he said none of this when he applied for the work. He had been sophisticated, witty and very convincing, as he said that he knew teaching was his life's work. He almost convinced himself, but he knew that he really had no idea what his life's work was other than trying to avoid pain, disappointment and failure.
Arriving during the week of the carnival gave him three weeks before the start of classes. He had more than enough time to find an apartment, spend some time avoiding seeing people and prep for his classes. He stayed away from his office on campus until the five days before classes began. He mainly holed up in his apartment, drank gallons of decaf coffee and stared out the window, and occasionally he would take a deep breath and sigh.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Appendix's festival
This next part of the story looks at how a yearly festival started in Appendix. It is a continuation from yesterday of the conversation that Quin is having with his parents on Thanksgiving vacation. Though I didn't know it at the time when I first wrote it, the festivals will play a minor role throughout the book, and the founder Wondermaker plays a an idealized haunting role...
How the Festivals started in Appendix
Quin laughed again, “Okay dad. I’ll try to keep that in mind. Hey speaking of stories, tell me again what the deal is with Appendix being the Carnival Capital of the World.” Quin was fishing for more information to further expand his repertoire when he returned to campus.
Buzz began again with obvious relish, “Well no doubt Quin, you have heard this story before, but as you have probably noticed, I do not get tired from telling a story or two. Here is what happened as best as I can recall. A long time ago in the early 1900's or so, there was this guy from Appendix named Arnie Wondermaker, now he would be the grandson of the gambler with the burst organ from your mother’s charming story.”
“Anyway, Wondermaker, who was this traveling carnival type of guy, would go around to all the county fairs in Michigan and some in Indiana and Ohio as well. At the fairs he would do this entertaining one-man vaudeville show. As time went by he attracted all the freaks and misfits from practically the whole surrounding three counties and his show grew and people would travel from all over the place to see Wondermaker and the most wondrous show on earth.” Buzz spread his hands as if he were spreading out a banner.
“So Wondermaker and his freaks started traveling all over the Midwest doing their shows. They continued until the 1920's by which time Wondermaker was rich, but older and getting tired of all the travel and growing nostalgic for Appendix. So he decided to quit traveling and set his roots back down in Appendix. He fired all but his two favorite freaks, one of which was his wife who was really quite beautiful and only freakish in the sense that she could contort her body in about a hundred different directions or so.” Buzz looked particularly gleeful as he described Wondermakers wife.
“Buzz Holsten!” Linda snorted, “I declare you are incorrigible. Did you forget that I was sitting right here?”
Buzz laughed loudly, “I could never forget that my darling. Anyway, Quin the other freak was the brother of his wife so Wondermaker really couldn’t fire him. These three together setup Wondermaker Incorporated and started making portable fair booths and carnival games. They started out being quite successful and expanded. In about three years half the town was working for Wondermaker Incorporated. Then, they branched out into making Ferris Wheels and carousels.”
“Just before the depression took hold of Appendix, Wondermaker decided to invite his old freaks and their friends back to town for what he called a carnival get –together. See Wondermaker thought that these people were always out on the road performing in carnivals, running the rides and whatnot, so that they never really got to just enjoy a carnival for themselves. So his brilliant idea was to throw a Carnival for the Carnies.”
“So in August, here they all came, all the old freaks and their friends, and they had a high old time camping outside the town and partying with old Wondermaker. From that first gathering, it became something of an annual event. It grew a little bit every year. Even after Old Wondermaker had to shut down Wondermaker Incorporated during the depression, the freaks kept on coming, year after year. The town elders in the 40's saw a chance to put Appendix on the map and made the carnival get-together an official yearly event. They followed up that stroke of genius by declaring Appendix, the Carnival Capital of the world. I think it was the same year that they also changed the school mascot from whatever it was before to the Fighting Carnies. So that, Quin, is why whenever you used to run out onto the old Appendix gym floor, there was that big old picture of that mean looking old man standing in front of that Ferris Wheel." Quin smiled thinking about the old Appendix gym floor.
“Quin, my boy, it is very good to have you home for Thanksgiving, and I have loved spinning these yarns. But morning comes very early, and these old bones are tired. See you in the morning. My darling, are you going to join me in the bedroom?”
“Yes Buzz,” Linda said feigning exasperation. She got up and walked over and gave Quin a peck on the cheek, “Quin it really is very good to have you home. It’s great to have someone else who can listen to your dad. I swear that man can talk for hours. Who needs TV? ”
Quin chuckled, “Thanks mom. It’s good to be here.”
Later that night, as Quin lay in bed and thought about the stories that his dad had told him, he envisioned himself telling the stories back at school at the parties. He began to plan how he would start talking about Appendix being the Carnival Capitol of the World. Then he made a plan to go to the old high school some time over the weekend, and see if he could snag some of the old Fighting Carnie workout jerseys. He thought they would be great conversation starters to wear at the gym when he got back to school.
As he was about to drift off to sleep, he was thinking about the old man sitting outside his nemesis’ shed drinking raspberry wine and watching the shed of his enemy burn. He thought to himself, “I am not going to tell that story again until I have given those old guys names,” and he drifted off to sleep wondering what names he might give them when he told the story. The next morning he woke with a start, and he knew that when he returned to Stanford he was going to change his major from Business to Literature.
He slipped back into Appendix that summer during the week of the carnival without making so much as a ripple. This was absolutely fine with him.
How the Festivals started in Appendix
Quin laughed again, “Okay dad. I’ll try to keep that in mind. Hey speaking of stories, tell me again what the deal is with Appendix being the Carnival Capital of the World.” Quin was fishing for more information to further expand his repertoire when he returned to campus.
Buzz began again with obvious relish, “Well no doubt Quin, you have heard this story before, but as you have probably noticed, I do not get tired from telling a story or two. Here is what happened as best as I can recall. A long time ago in the early 1900's or so, there was this guy from Appendix named Arnie Wondermaker, now he would be the grandson of the gambler with the burst organ from your mother’s charming story.”
“Anyway, Wondermaker, who was this traveling carnival type of guy, would go around to all the county fairs in Michigan and some in Indiana and Ohio as well. At the fairs he would do this entertaining one-man vaudeville show. As time went by he attracted all the freaks and misfits from practically the whole surrounding three counties and his show grew and people would travel from all over the place to see Wondermaker and the most wondrous show on earth.” Buzz spread his hands as if he were spreading out a banner.
“So Wondermaker and his freaks started traveling all over the Midwest doing their shows. They continued until the 1920's by which time Wondermaker was rich, but older and getting tired of all the travel and growing nostalgic for Appendix. So he decided to quit traveling and set his roots back down in Appendix. He fired all but his two favorite freaks, one of which was his wife who was really quite beautiful and only freakish in the sense that she could contort her body in about a hundred different directions or so.” Buzz looked particularly gleeful as he described Wondermakers wife.
“Buzz Holsten!” Linda snorted, “I declare you are incorrigible. Did you forget that I was sitting right here?”
Buzz laughed loudly, “I could never forget that my darling. Anyway, Quin the other freak was the brother of his wife so Wondermaker really couldn’t fire him. These three together setup Wondermaker Incorporated and started making portable fair booths and carnival games. They started out being quite successful and expanded. In about three years half the town was working for Wondermaker Incorporated. Then, they branched out into making Ferris Wheels and carousels.”
“Just before the depression took hold of Appendix, Wondermaker decided to invite his old freaks and their friends back to town for what he called a carnival get –together. See Wondermaker thought that these people were always out on the road performing in carnivals, running the rides and whatnot, so that they never really got to just enjoy a carnival for themselves. So his brilliant idea was to throw a Carnival for the Carnies.”
“So in August, here they all came, all the old freaks and their friends, and they had a high old time camping outside the town and partying with old Wondermaker. From that first gathering, it became something of an annual event. It grew a little bit every year. Even after Old Wondermaker had to shut down Wondermaker Incorporated during the depression, the freaks kept on coming, year after year. The town elders in the 40's saw a chance to put Appendix on the map and made the carnival get-together an official yearly event. They followed up that stroke of genius by declaring Appendix, the Carnival Capital of the world. I think it was the same year that they also changed the school mascot from whatever it was before to the Fighting Carnies. So that, Quin, is why whenever you used to run out onto the old Appendix gym floor, there was that big old picture of that mean looking old man standing in front of that Ferris Wheel." Quin smiled thinking about the old Appendix gym floor.
“Quin, my boy, it is very good to have you home for Thanksgiving, and I have loved spinning these yarns. But morning comes very early, and these old bones are tired. See you in the morning. My darling, are you going to join me in the bedroom?”
“Yes Buzz,” Linda said feigning exasperation. She got up and walked over and gave Quin a peck on the cheek, “Quin it really is very good to have you home. It’s great to have someone else who can listen to your dad. I swear that man can talk for hours. Who needs TV? ”
Quin chuckled, “Thanks mom. It’s good to be here.”
Later that night, as Quin lay in bed and thought about the stories that his dad had told him, he envisioned himself telling the stories back at school at the parties. He began to plan how he would start talking about Appendix being the Carnival Capitol of the World. Then he made a plan to go to the old high school some time over the weekend, and see if he could snag some of the old Fighting Carnie workout jerseys. He thought they would be great conversation starters to wear at the gym when he got back to school.
As he was about to drift off to sleep, he was thinking about the old man sitting outside his nemesis’ shed drinking raspberry wine and watching the shed of his enemy burn. He thought to himself, “I am not going to tell that story again until I have given those old guys names,” and he drifted off to sleep wondering what names he might give them when he told the story. The next morning he woke with a start, and he knew that when he returned to Stanford he was going to change his major from Business to Literature.
*
At Stanford Quin continued to throw hard and do enough accademically to earn decent grades, but it did not translate into a career in pro baseball. It did translate into a masters in English Literature, a part-time job at a Jr. College, a short marriage, a long affair, a short stint as an alcoholic, a long rehab, a longer divorce, a small mountain of debt, a deep suspicion that his best years were behind him, a growing conviction that his life would never again be charmed, and a vague thought that somehow things might be better if he went home. He slipped back into Appendix that summer during the week of the carnival without making so much as a ripple. This was absolutely fine with him.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
stories/and the naming of the town
All my life I have loved stories. For the past decade this general love of stories has found focus in the concept of Narrative Theology. This theology takes into account the sweep of the story of God. This theology suggests that we know and experience God as our stories intersect with God's larger story.
Stories and thoughts about stories play a role throughout the book.
One thing that was very interesting for me in writing this is that in the beginning I really had no idea where any of it was going. I just started writing, and a portion of the book seemed to gel (at least I thought it gelled) around the importance of stories. So below is Quin's exposure to the stories about the naming of Appendix as told to him by his mom and dad....
Appendix, continued from yesterday
Stories and thoughts about stories play a role throughout the book.
One thing that was very interesting for me in writing this is that in the beginning I really had no idea where any of it was going. I just started writing, and a portion of the book seemed to gel (at least I thought it gelled) around the importance of stories. So below is Quin's exposure to the stories about the naming of Appendix as told to him by his mom and dad....
Appendix, continued from yesterday
“Well Quin I’m delighted that you are not forgetting your roots while you’re out there on the West Coast. The first thing that you have to remember, Quin, is that there are a couple of different explanations. The first I heard, and the one that I think is the true story, was that the original settlers couldn't agree on a name. So they agreed that the two oldest men of the settlers would each be blindfolded, and one would be given a dictionary, and would while blindfolded open the dictionary.” Buzz paused and looked at Quin while making the motion of opening a book and then continued, “Then the other man while also blindfolded would have to point to a spot on the page, and that would be the name of the town.” Again Buzz acted out the scene for Quin’s benefit only this time he pretended that he was blindfolded.
“Now apparently these two old fellows were rather cantankerous and had been doing a good deal of quarreling since the trip had begun. And they were neither one of them too happy about the place the band had finally stopped. And neither was too happy that the other was to be involved in the final naming of the town. The one who was to do the pointing insisted that his counter part just open the dictionary right in the middle, because it was much better to have a town named something in the middle. Well the opener out of spite pulled back only a small number of pages and so we ended up with a town that started with an A.”
“The pointer was so mad that after drinking way too much raspberry wine - there were fabulous black raspberry patches all over the place back then Quin – well there still are if you know were to look. But that’s beside the point. Anyways, the pointer drank way too much raspberry wine to soothe his bitter disappointment over the town starting with an A. He drank and drank. Only instead of soothing, the alcohol was fuel on the fire of his anger. Into his second bottle he got so angry that he decided to go and burn down the little old shed that belonged to the opener. He did just that with the opener inside.”
Buzz spread his hands out wide and made the sound of flames enveloping the shack. He looked absolutely delighted. Quin smiled and nodded his head appreciatively as he listened again to the same story he had been telling at the college parties. Buzz continued, “But our poor pointer had had way too much to drink and fell asleep watching the shed of his nemesis go up in flames. So when the other pioneers came to put out the blaze they found him with his now empty bottle, and justice being much swifter in them days, they promptly hung him from the nearest tree.” Buzz pantomimed someone being strung up, and Quin chuckled while thinking that the motions his dad added were a nice little touch to the story. “But, you know Quin, they say it wasn't a bad way to go as he was so drunk he never woke. He simply went to sleep with the happy vision of the opener’s shed going up in flames."
Quin’s mom, Linda laughed, “Well now that’s just a wonderful story to be telling Buzz, full of spite and drinking, arson and hanging. Just wonderful, Buzz.”
Buzz laughed appreciatively, “You are too right my dear, but nevertheless I’m pretty sure that is how events transpired.”
“Buzz Holsten you know better than that. I heard your story too once from my grandma, but she said that it was just a story invented by Arnie Wondermaker when he was first making a name for himself. Quin you pay no attention to that nonsense.”
Both Quin and Buzz laughed. Linda continued, “Now listen Quin my granny said that the real story was that Wondermaker's granddaddy had had to leave Detroit in a hurry on account of a couple of card games that hadn't gone his way. Back then the name was still Vandermacher, by the way.”
“Anyway his granddaddy had to leave Detroit Detroit
“Now his young wife had just about zero education, so the Doctor could have just as easily said, ‘He's dead. Worm gnawed out his gizzard,’ and she would have been satisfied. The girl asked the Doc, ‘What's the name of this place,’ and the old doc replied, ‘This place ain't really nowhere, most folks just call it the settlement by the lake,’ ‘Well,’ the child bride replied, ‘I'll always call this place Appendix from now on.’ So anyway my grandma said that, that's how the town was named. The town was named by Wondermaker’s young pregnant wife. She named the place after her dead husband's burst organ."
Buzz laughed, “Well now, you are right Linda that is a much more wholesome story, what with the cards, a fifteen year-old bride, and a burst appendix.” Quin laughed at both of them.
Buzz continued, “I guess Quin you get to choose which version you prefer. I like the one with the burning and the hanging. Either way Quin they are good stories, especially if they are told well. The storyteller makes the story Quin. You remember that.”
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
the town in my mind: Appendix, MI
My story takes place in a small town, because that is what I know since that is where I grew up. I take a little time in the beginning of the book developing the town and how it was named. The town and its name will have a role later on..
Unlike many of his classmates Quin knew the story behind Appendix’s name, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he knew the two stories. He had learned them as a child from his grandfather, and also from his dad, so that when he was asked at Stanford about his origins, he had a couple of stories that always proved to be a hit. They were especially fun to tell at parties when everybody had had a little to drink and the audience was in a listening mood. They were stories that people liked to hear, and at college Quin still loved to tell people things they liked to hear.
When Quin returned home to Appendix for Thanksgiving break during his freshman year, he was so pleased with how the stories were being received at school that he thought it would be good to ask his dad about them. He wanted to hear them told again and brush up on his own telling. His dad, Buzz Holsten, who also loved to tell stories, was more than happy to oblige.
Appendix
Appendix, Michigan sits at the end of a chain of lakes in the southern part of the state, in the county of St. Christopher. The residents of Appendix give little or no thought to the name of their town, which is probably mostly true of people everywhere. There are simply too many more important things on this planet to occupy oneself with besides the name of your town. It is really not until the best and brightest students from Appendix high school leave for college in Ann Arbor or Lansing that they encounter for the first time in their lives the fact that their town has a name different from the ordinary names for a town. At college the name of their hometown develops into a bit of a standing joke with their friends. When they return home to Appendix for Thanksgiving or homecoming, they will generally in passing conversation ask their parents the story behind the name of the town. Most of the parents will not know, but a few will. Then the best and brightest will return with a little story to tell, when their place of origin comes up. Unlike many of his classmates Quin knew the story behind Appendix’s name, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he knew the two stories. He had learned them as a child from his grandfather, and also from his dad, so that when he was asked at Stanford about his origins, he had a couple of stories that always proved to be a hit. They were especially fun to tell at parties when everybody had had a little to drink and the audience was in a listening mood. They were stories that people liked to hear, and at college Quin still loved to tell people things they liked to hear.
When Quin returned home to Appendix for Thanksgiving break during his freshman year, he was so pleased with how the stories were being received at school that he thought it would be good to ask his dad about them. He wanted to hear them told again and brush up on his own telling. His dad, Buzz Holsten, who also loved to tell stories, was more than happy to oblige.
Monday, November 1, 2010
God is Holy/ Why this is good news/ and one thing I could have said a lot better
We really do not understand the word Holy too well as a culture. Holy, if you are Robin, can be an adjective put in front of almost any noun (or adjective or phrase): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nltVuSH-lQM
Holy obviously has lost something of its punch in culture at large.
The church uses Holy to describe God. When using Holy to describe God we are saying a couple of things. First, we are saying that God is completely other than creation. We are affirming that God, though the maker of all, has remained distinct from creation. Second, we are saying that God is morally perfect. In other words there is nothing evil about God. God is all good.
This second meaning can sound like bad news to us, because we recognize that we are not entirely good. I know that I have certainly had this attitude towards holiness at times. The Bible talks about all of us sinning, and because we have sinned, we fall short of God’s standard of Holiness. God’s Holiness can make God seem unapproachable.
In preparing for this talk, though, I really came to grips with the fact that God’s holiness is really good news. God being holy means that God is actively opposing all that is evil and counter to God’s good intentions for creation. A couple of key scriptures that we looked at were Luke 4 http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=luke%204:31-37&version=NIV and 1 John 3 http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20John%203:7-8&version=NIV
God’s holiness means that God is working to defeat evil. So the answer to the question the demon asks: “have you come to destroy us?” is YES! This is crucial. God in Holiness works to undo the effects of evil, and is actively opposing evil. However, we can experience this as bad news. It is bad news for the evil in us, but it is ultimately really good news for us. Because as God drives out the evil in us, we find that we are actually more of who we were meant to be, not less.
Consider how this is illustrated in this passage from Isaiah: http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah%206:1-8&version=NIV First Isaiah experiences God’s Holiness as really bad news: “Woe is me…” But, God is actually moving towards Isaiah and cleansing him, “The angel took the tongs…” This not the end though. God then gives Isaiah a mission: “Who will go for us…” We see here that God’s Holiness is really good news. Isaiah is not less of himself because of his encounter with the Holy God. He is actually more of himself. God has given him a mission.
We see this principle in the Luke 4 passage as well. Because of his encounter with Jesus, the man in the Capernaum synagogue is also certainly more of himself. God’s Holiness makes us more ourselves. As Paul says we are God’s handiwork, and God is at work restoring His handiwork. As we encounter God in His Holiness we actually become more ourselves. Or in the word of John Ortberg, I become me-ier and you become youier.
I used this clip from Lord of the Rings as an illustration. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tlkrR_hasU Because Theoden has encountered goodness (represented by Gandalf) he is more himself than he was before the encounter.
Now for something I wish I would have said a whole lot better. (For you football fans this is sort of like the pass the Quaterback wishes he would not have thrown - Kirk Cousins could relate)
As we were wrapping up I said something like this: “I was taught to preach the Bible not my experience.” Then I went on to say something like this: “But, I want a God I can experience.” Both these things are true, but not the most helpful things I have ever said, and certainly not the best way to say it. One, it makes it sound like I might not value the Bible that much. Two, it makes it sound like things are more about me than they are about God. Sort of like, “God needs to be this way for me.” So as part of my Monday morning quarterbacking, let me take another shot at it.
I think I should teach the Bible. But, here is the deal with the Bible. The Bible is all about people’s experiences with the Living God. God is alive. This is one of the most basic messages from the Bible. God is alive and interacting with people. So, from the Bible we can expect that we will actually experience God. I think if I don’t have actual experiences with God, the Bible will begin to seem just like a book of fantasy. Because I value the Bible, my expectation is that God will actually interact with us. As I talk about God’s Holiness, as we look at God’s Holiness in the Bible, my hope and expectation is that we as a people will actually experience God’s Holiness and find ourselves changed and growing from the experience.
This is a little bit more like what I was trying to say, thought it is still inadequate. So maybe you can help me.
How could we say this better? Do you think it is important to experience God? How have you experienced God in the past couple of weeks? How have you felt about God’s Holiness? Do you think God’s Holiness is good news? Have you had an experience of God’s Holiness and found that you were actually more of yourself after the encounter?
Thanks for exploring these things with me.
Holy obviously has lost something of its punch in culture at large.
The church uses Holy to describe God. When using Holy to describe God we are saying a couple of things. First, we are saying that God is completely other than creation. We are affirming that God, though the maker of all, has remained distinct from creation. Second, we are saying that God is morally perfect. In other words there is nothing evil about God. God is all good.
This second meaning can sound like bad news to us, because we recognize that we are not entirely good. I know that I have certainly had this attitude towards holiness at times. The Bible talks about all of us sinning, and because we have sinned, we fall short of God’s standard of Holiness. God’s Holiness can make God seem unapproachable.
In preparing for this talk, though, I really came to grips with the fact that God’s holiness is really good news. God being holy means that God is actively opposing all that is evil and counter to God’s good intentions for creation. A couple of key scriptures that we looked at were Luke 4 http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=luke%204:31-37&version=NIV and 1 John 3 http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20John%203:7-8&version=NIV
God’s holiness means that God is working to defeat evil. So the answer to the question the demon asks: “have you come to destroy us?” is YES! This is crucial. God in Holiness works to undo the effects of evil, and is actively opposing evil. However, we can experience this as bad news. It is bad news for the evil in us, but it is ultimately really good news for us. Because as God drives out the evil in us, we find that we are actually more of who we were meant to be, not less.
Consider how this is illustrated in this passage from Isaiah: http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah%206:1-8&version=NIV First Isaiah experiences God’s Holiness as really bad news: “Woe is me…” But, God is actually moving towards Isaiah and cleansing him, “The angel took the tongs…” This not the end though. God then gives Isaiah a mission: “Who will go for us…” We see here that God’s Holiness is really good news. Isaiah is not less of himself because of his encounter with the Holy God. He is actually more of himself. God has given him a mission.
We see this principle in the Luke 4 passage as well. Because of his encounter with Jesus, the man in the Capernaum synagogue is also certainly more of himself. God’s Holiness makes us more ourselves. As Paul says we are God’s handiwork, and God is at work restoring His handiwork. As we encounter God in His Holiness we actually become more ourselves. Or in the word of John Ortberg, I become me-ier and you become youier.
I used this clip from Lord of the Rings as an illustration. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3tlkrR_hasU Because Theoden has encountered goodness (represented by Gandalf) he is more himself than he was before the encounter.
Now for something I wish I would have said a whole lot better. (For you football fans this is sort of like the pass the Quaterback wishes he would not have thrown - Kirk Cousins could relate)
As we were wrapping up I said something like this: “I was taught to preach the Bible not my experience.” Then I went on to say something like this: “But, I want a God I can experience.” Both these things are true, but not the most helpful things I have ever said, and certainly not the best way to say it. One, it makes it sound like I might not value the Bible that much. Two, it makes it sound like things are more about me than they are about God. Sort of like, “God needs to be this way for me.” So as part of my Monday morning quarterbacking, let me take another shot at it.
I think I should teach the Bible. But, here is the deal with the Bible. The Bible is all about people’s experiences with the Living God. God is alive. This is one of the most basic messages from the Bible. God is alive and interacting with people. So, from the Bible we can expect that we will actually experience God. I think if I don’t have actual experiences with God, the Bible will begin to seem just like a book of fantasy. Because I value the Bible, my expectation is that God will actually interact with us. As I talk about God’s Holiness, as we look at God’s Holiness in the Bible, my hope and expectation is that we as a people will actually experience God’s Holiness and find ourselves changed and growing from the experience.
This is a little bit more like what I was trying to say, thought it is still inadequate. So maybe you can help me.
How could we say this better? Do you think it is important to experience God? How have you experienced God in the past couple of weeks? How have you felt about God’s Holiness? Do you think God’s Holiness is good news? Have you had an experience of God’s Holiness and found that you were actually more of yourself after the encounter?
Thanks for exploring these things with me.
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