Religious Nuts

spiritualfruitsm, originally uploaded by koliver.

Jeff and OJ

cabin trip 2007-2 079.jpg, originally uploaded by koliver.

Excited Jeff

IMG_1495.JPG, originally uploaded by koliver.

Jeff and Mao

Jeff and Mao, originally uploaded by koliver.

Lunch at Costco

Lunch at Costco, originally uploaded by koliver.

I highly recommend the Hot Dog / Drink combo at Costco if you're stuck there for two hours getting new tires on your wife's car. It's only $1.50, which leaves you enough to get the $1 footlong churro...

Love and complimentary breakfast is in the air

As I motored northbound from downtown Wednesday, I was drawn to the letters hastily arranged on this Super 8 Motel sign that read:

Punja--

Will you marry me?

Anil

I hope Anil first inquired at the Mansion, Anatole, and W about the availability of signage there before settling on the Super 8. Seems like that might surface in counseling.

And I hope Punja was driving northbound. Not that the free HBO offer on the southbound side wasn't compelling . . .

Even better than the real thing . . .

Mary and I celebrated St. Patty’s day Monday by seeing the U2 3D film at the IMAX.

Quite simply, it was mindblowing.

For one, the visual effects were stunning. This wasn’t the 3D cheese of Dr. Tongue’s Monster Chiller Horror Theater. We ducked the neck of Adam’s bass as he moved toward the camera. The flyovers of Larry’s drum kit were exhilarating. And as we were about to ask the people in front to sit down, we realized they were actual concertgoers – part of the film, not our IMAX audience.

Aurally, the film delivered the goods, too. The sounds – from the subtle piano to the primal percussive, from Bono’s glorious Pavarotti impersonation on “Miss Sarajevo” to the crowd’s thunderous approval – were pitch perfect. My only complaint was the volume, which should have matched the volume and intensity of the concert footage.

U2 3D challenged my notions of a filmgoing experience. I left the theater feeling emotions I’ve never had walking out of a film.

That’s because the third dimension served to break down the barriers typically established between you, the passive observer, and the characters you watch on screen.

In that way, the subject matter was perfect for this next generation of 3-D technology: For decades, U2 has transcended the vast spaces of arenas, stadiums and massive festivals to give performances that somehow feel intimate.

What a joy for this fan, who most recently paid hundreds of dollars for the privilege of standing 70 yards from the band when they played AAC, to be accorded unprecedented access to U2 (for eleven bucks, no less). All from the comfortable perspective of a plush cinema seat with plenty of leg room, cool 3D specs, and cupholders. A sharp contrast to the constant jostling with the hundreds of others who surround you on the arena floor, all vying for a good sightline and seizing any chance to inch closer to the band. For me, that experience ranges from a mere distraction to creating hostility.

Which is why I was struck by my reaction to the audience as I watched the concert on film. On one hand, I felt like I was part of them as I, too, was experiencing the electricity of a U2 show. But overwhelmingly, I felt like a detached observer watching their joy, their passion for the concert. This differs from previous concert films I’ve seen where my reaction would lean toward envy. As in, “I wish I was there. Those lucky so-and-sos, getting to see U2 . . .” Maybe because I had the best seat in the house and didn’t have to hassle with parking. Whatever. I shared their joy. Their unity in song, in dance, in reacting to the actions of the band, was a big smile.

In that way, the film was a celebration of humanity. Tens of thousands of people together, sharing a powerful experience and uniting for a moment.

That sounded a bit heavy. Sorry.

But it also served to make the band more human, too. At times, U2 3D makes you feel like a fifth member of the band who is just kind of exploring the stage. (Hey, what’s up, Edge?) Which makes the band feel lifelike, lifesize, real. If not short. As opposed to the glorification and magnification that comes with seeing them live. (At least from the seats I usually have.) With the proximity the film offered, I found myself focusing more on how well they work together to create affecting music and performances.

I highly recommend the U2 3D film. It was astonishingly real. I actually started to check the newspaper the following morning for a review of the concert. (Of course, it wasn’t particularly newsworthy, since it took place in South America about a year ago.)

Good news from Charlotte

Love

The Generosity of Snowmass

Today was our last day of skiing in Snowmass. Eric (my brother) and I brought our families here for a few days of fellowship and we have been blessed with beautiful surroundings, perfect weather, excellent ski conditions, and the accumulation of many new fond memories.

I have been struck several times during this trip by memories of my first trip here in 1982. My first plane trip, learning to ski, seeing the Rocky Mountains for the first time, learning of Eric and Danna's pregnancy - many fond memories from the two weeks spent here with my family and Eric's inlaws, the McGlothlins and the Lincolns (Abe Lincoln, in fact - but that's another post).

But none of the memories I listed above are the most vivid.

When we experience the Eternal in our lives it changes us and it leaves an impression that is not easily forgotten. I experienced it on that trip in 1982, and it is still my most vivid memory.

One afternoon we took a break from skiing to walk around in Aspen. This was a time when Aspen was really coming into its own - trickle-down economics were fueling its transition from quaint skiing village to resort destination for the rich and famous. The manifestations of that change were evident as we strolled around the town, with swanky boutiques moving in next to mom and pop gift shops. One of these merchants that had recently moved into Aspen was Ralph Lauren, who had opened a Polo shop there.

That Polo shop represented so many things to a young Reagan-era Republican like myself - style, sophistication, wealth, legitimacy. Yet, I knew that anything inside was well beyond my reach. Don't get me wrong - we weren't indigent - I just knew we could never afford such an extravagance just for my pleasure. Still, we went inside to look around, if only to imagine and aspire.

Once inside, lots of brass and hunter green. Beautiful, immaculately dressed people asking if I needed help finding anything. The scent of Polo cologne. Stacks of beautiful shirts, sweaters, jackets - all beyond my reach.

It was then that Danna's father, Ray McGlothlin, pulled me aside and told me I could have anything in the shop that I wanted - his treat. I still get tears in my eyes thinking of that moment. What I picked out is inconsequential - what impacts me to this day is the power of the generosity that Ray showed me. Indeed, the generosity he has shown everyone around him for as long as I have had the privilege of knowing him.

Being here 25 years later has inspired me to try to be more generous to those in my life in this new year. I'm truly grateful for Ray and other people in my life that have shown me how to live the message of Christ.

By the way - I picked out a red, blue and yellow Polo rugby shirt. It was genius.