Tuesday, March 14, 2006
More details on the Chronicle's site
We've just posted a story about the Sooners and the Pepperdine Waves online at www.christianchronicle.org.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Who to root for?
(By Erik)
Everyone around these parts is overjoyed for Sherri Coale, head coach of the University of Oklahoma's women's basketball team. Coale's Sooners handily won the Big 12 tournament just a couple of days ago. Coale is a graduate of Oklahoma Christian University and a member of the Westside Church of Christ in Norman.
The brackets for the NCAA national tourney were released today, and guess who the Sooners face in the first round? Pepperdine University, Malibu, Calif. — a school associated with churches of Christ
So it's Church of Christ coach vs. Church of Christ school.
Prediction: Sooners
Everyone around these parts is overjoyed for Sherri Coale, head coach of the University of Oklahoma's women's basketball team. Coale's Sooners handily won the Big 12 tournament just a couple of days ago. Coale is a graduate of Oklahoma Christian University and a member of the Westside Church of Christ in Norman.
The brackets for the NCAA national tourney were released today, and guess who the Sooners face in the first round? Pepperdine University, Malibu, Calif. — a school associated with churches of Christ
So it's Church of Christ coach vs. Church of Christ school.
Prediction: Sooners
PHOTO: Coconuts, anyone?
(By Erik)
Here’s the photo from Nigeria I referred to in the previous post. This guy went amazingly high, using a simple rope and his feet, to cut down coconuts for us.
Here’s the photo from Nigeria I referred to in the previous post. This guy went amazingly high, using a simple rope and his feet, to cut down coconuts for us.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Thoughts on oil, Nigeria and all-you-can-eat restaurants
(By Erik)
A Nigerian man who lived part of his life in the United States once told me that the best thing about America is all-you-can-eat restaurants.
“You couldn’t open an all-you-can-eat restaurant here,” he said, as we drove across a bumpy village road. “People would never leave.” We both laughed.
Most of us don’t keep up with the news in West Africa these days, and I’ll be the first to admit that, as I sit here looking at the treehouse and dry grass in my backyard, Nigeria seems millions of miles away.
But if you want to see the effects of what’s going on in Nigeria these days, look no farther than the nearest gas station. A number of factors are driving up the prices at the pumps. One of them is a group of rebels that is attacking oil facilities along the Niger Delta.
Nigeria is one of the world’s biggest oil exporters — the eighth largest, I think. Vast reserves of the stuff are just off the country’s coast and big oil companies including Shell are taking it. It’s not uncommon to see American oil workers in Nigerian airports, walking in and out of frequent-flyer lounges.
Nigeria also routinely is ranked as one of the world’s most corrupt countries, according to the British Broadcasting Corp. Take one look at the people who live in the Niger Delta and it’s obvious that not one dime of the country’s oil money is getting back to them. Giant potholes line the streets. People live in modest huts — and live hand-to-mouth. They take what’s called “palm fruit” and press the oil out of it, selling it for whatever they can get.
Granted, just because I live in a country that has oil reserves doesn’t mean I’m entitled to a share of the profits. But compare the standard of living in another oil rich country — Norway — to Nigeria and you see that something is off balance.
I’m not trying to portray Nigerians as impoverished or objects of pity. They are among the happiest and friendliest people I’ve met. I remember taking photos in one village while another American shot video for a promotional film. A group of youths stopped us as we were attempting to get back in our car, shouting at us loudly. I assumed they wanted money or were angry that we didn’t ask for their permission to film.
Our Nigerian host told us that they didn’t want us to leave without a gift. We followed them into the bush and watched as one of the youths climbed a tree and, using a machete, chopped off some ripe coconuts.
I got a photo of it, of course.
I don’t know much about these “oil rebels.” They kidnapped a bunch of oil workers not too long ago. A group of British journalists arranged a meeting with them, and the rebels granted the reporters an interview with one of the hostages.
Then they actually released a hostage, Macon Hawkins, to the reporters. He was in his late 60s and was diabetic. He told the reporters that he’d been treated well, and that the rebels called him “papa.” (Nigerians, like many Africans, have great respect for the elderly. “Old man” is a term of respect.)
I can’t say that this means the rebels are all noble people. Not likely. Nigeria, like many parts of Africa, has seen too much violence already. It must not become a way of life. I’m praying for peace in the Niger Delta.
Going back to that conversation about all-you-eat restaurants, I remember looking out the window of the car as it bounced along the village road and saying to my Nigerian friend, “This ain’t right. A country with this much oil shouldn’t be like this.”
I think he just nodded.
A Nigerian man who lived part of his life in the United States once told me that the best thing about America is all-you-can-eat restaurants.
“You couldn’t open an all-you-can-eat restaurant here,” he said, as we drove across a bumpy village road. “People would never leave.” We both laughed.
Most of us don’t keep up with the news in West Africa these days, and I’ll be the first to admit that, as I sit here looking at the treehouse and dry grass in my backyard, Nigeria seems millions of miles away.
But if you want to see the effects of what’s going on in Nigeria these days, look no farther than the nearest gas station. A number of factors are driving up the prices at the pumps. One of them is a group of rebels that is attacking oil facilities along the Niger Delta.
Nigeria is one of the world’s biggest oil exporters — the eighth largest, I think. Vast reserves of the stuff are just off the country’s coast and big oil companies including Shell are taking it. It’s not uncommon to see American oil workers in Nigerian airports, walking in and out of frequent-flyer lounges.
Nigeria also routinely is ranked as one of the world’s most corrupt countries, according to the British Broadcasting Corp. Take one look at the people who live in the Niger Delta and it’s obvious that not one dime of the country’s oil money is getting back to them. Giant potholes line the streets. People live in modest huts — and live hand-to-mouth. They take what’s called “palm fruit” and press the oil out of it, selling it for whatever they can get.
Granted, just because I live in a country that has oil reserves doesn’t mean I’m entitled to a share of the profits. But compare the standard of living in another oil rich country — Norway — to Nigeria and you see that something is off balance.
I’m not trying to portray Nigerians as impoverished or objects of pity. They are among the happiest and friendliest people I’ve met. I remember taking photos in one village while another American shot video for a promotional film. A group of youths stopped us as we were attempting to get back in our car, shouting at us loudly. I assumed they wanted money or were angry that we didn’t ask for their permission to film.
Our Nigerian host told us that they didn’t want us to leave without a gift. We followed them into the bush and watched as one of the youths climbed a tree and, using a machete, chopped off some ripe coconuts.
I got a photo of it, of course.
I don’t know much about these “oil rebels.” They kidnapped a bunch of oil workers not too long ago. A group of British journalists arranged a meeting with them, and the rebels granted the reporters an interview with one of the hostages.
Then they actually released a hostage, Macon Hawkins, to the reporters. He was in his late 60s and was diabetic. He told the reporters that he’d been treated well, and that the rebels called him “papa.” (Nigerians, like many Africans, have great respect for the elderly. “Old man” is a term of respect.)
I can’t say that this means the rebels are all noble people. Not likely. Nigeria, like many parts of Africa, has seen too much violence already. It must not become a way of life. I’m praying for peace in the Niger Delta.
Going back to that conversation about all-you-eat restaurants, I remember looking out the window of the car as it bounced along the village road and saying to my Nigerian friend, “This ain’t right. A country with this much oil shouldn’t be like this.”
I think he just nodded.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Much Apu about nothing ...
(By Erik)
I got on iTunes recently (where I get all of my “world” music) and found only one album by The Simpsons — “The Yellow Album.” I don’t own it, but a few seconds of listening to the previews told me it was no good.
What was far worse, I thought, was the appallingly bad reviews on iTunes. Horrible spelling, bad words, nonsense statements … quite frankly, the Simpsons deserve better. So here’s the review I just submitted:
“Since most of the reviews seem to be written by the barely literate, I’ll put in my two cents. After the phenomenal success of the Simpsons in the early 1990s, a record label released “The Simpsons Sing the Blues,” which featured “Do the Bartman” and “Deep, Deep Trouble,” both of which got radio airplay and even charted.
“The record label prepared “The Yellow Album” as a follow-up, but then shelved it when they realized that it was no good (and started believing that the Simpsons’ album would be a one-hit wonder).
“In the late 1990s the label compiled many of the songs heard on the TV show into “Songs in the Key of Springfield,” which included the show’s title and many of its standards (“Mr. Plow,” “Who Needs the Quickie Mart?” “New Orleans” etc.) The album sold very well and prompted the label to release a follow-up, “Go Simpsonic with the Simpsons.”
“The label also re-released “The Simpsons Sing the Blues” and, for the first time, released “The Yellow Album.” So the album has a 1998 release date, but is composed entirely of material from the early 1990s, before the show hit its stride. The Kamp Krusty song, for example, was brand new when the album was recorded (it was the season premier of the show’s fourth season, I think.)
“So, to sum up, this album was never really considered good by anyone and was released only because of the popularity of the two albums, compiled years later, which contained the songs that helped make the show great.
“Avoid this bad boy. Hopefully iTunes will add the other albums soon.”
Yes, I know, I need a life!
I got on iTunes recently (where I get all of my “world” music) and found only one album by The Simpsons — “The Yellow Album.” I don’t own it, but a few seconds of listening to the previews told me it was no good.
What was far worse, I thought, was the appallingly bad reviews on iTunes. Horrible spelling, bad words, nonsense statements … quite frankly, the Simpsons deserve better. So here’s the review I just submitted:
“Since most of the reviews seem to be written by the barely literate, I’ll put in my two cents. After the phenomenal success of the Simpsons in the early 1990s, a record label released “The Simpsons Sing the Blues,” which featured “Do the Bartman” and “Deep, Deep Trouble,” both of which got radio airplay and even charted.
“The record label prepared “The Yellow Album” as a follow-up, but then shelved it when they realized that it was no good (and started believing that the Simpsons’ album would be a one-hit wonder).
“In the late 1990s the label compiled many of the songs heard on the TV show into “Songs in the Key of Springfield,” which included the show’s title and many of its standards (“Mr. Plow,” “Who Needs the Quickie Mart?” “New Orleans” etc.) The album sold very well and prompted the label to release a follow-up, “Go Simpsonic with the Simpsons.”
“The label also re-released “The Simpsons Sing the Blues” and, for the first time, released “The Yellow Album.” So the album has a 1998 release date, but is composed entirely of material from the early 1990s, before the show hit its stride. The Kamp Krusty song, for example, was brand new when the album was recorded (it was the season premier of the show’s fourth season, I think.)
“So, to sum up, this album was never really considered good by anyone and was released only because of the popularity of the two albums, compiled years later, which contained the songs that helped make the show great.
“Avoid this bad boy. Hopefully iTunes will add the other albums soon.”
Yes, I know, I need a life!
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Know thy spouse (and his or her choice of shoes)
(By Erik)
I meant to post this closer to Valentine’s Day, but Rotavirus would not allow it (see previous post).
Jeanie and I were the big winners in the Valentine’s Day quiz we played at the Lashleys’ house during our most recent “Brother’s Keeper” fellowship (something we do once per month after Sunday night services).
The quiz was designed to see how well you know your spouse. You answer 10 questions and then you guess how your spouse would answer.
Of a possible 20 points, we scored a combined 15, tying with one other couple. Then we went head-to-head in a tiebreaker question and (to be perfectly honest) got lucky.
Here are the questions. Responses in bold are ones that Jeanie and I guessed correctly (about each other).
How do you like your eggs?
Erik: Scrambled
Jeanie: In an omelet
What’s your least favorite household chore (indoors)?
Erik: Cleaning the bathrooms
Jeanie: Cleaning the bathrooms
Name your favorite pair of shoes.
Erik: Steve (Ha ha! Get it? Seriously, though, my black, waterproof shoes from the Bass outlet in Gainesville, Texas — before it closed)
Jeanie: Black slip-ons. (I missed that one. My guess was “the pair she hasn’t bought yet”)
Which facial feature do you like best about your spouse?
Erik: her eyes
Jeanie: his facial hair
What was the year and make of your first car?
Erik: 1988 Ford Tempo
Jeanie: 1990 Chevy Beretta (I didn’t know the year, but the judges said I was close enough)
What is your favorite thing to do on vacation?
Erik: Take photos and eat (Jeanie guessed “Go someplace he hasn’t been, which is a good guess!)
Jeanie: Sleep
Name the place you would most like to visit but haven’t.
Erik: Norway
Jeanie: Vienna, Austria
When do you usually pray?
Erik: Before bed
Jeanie: Before bed
What did you score on your ACT?
Erik: she got mine right
Jeanie: I got hers wrong (by a point)
What was your favorite cartoon as a child?
Erik: G.I.JOE/Transformers
Jeanie: Care Bears
Tiebreaker: Who was your favorite teacher?
Erik: Conrad Fink, University of Georgia
Jeanie: Dr. Molly Hill, Oklahoma Christian University
(I must confess that this blog played a role in our astounding victory. At least one of these questions was one we answered for the “Fantastic Fours” entry a few weeks back. Thanks to the Rosses for “tagging” us to answer those questions!)
If you’re married, take the quiz yourself and let us know how you do. You get one point for every question you get right about your spouse.
I've got Rota (Rooter) virus
(By Erik)
It’s a sleet-covered Sunday here in Oklahoma City.
We haven’t updated the blog recently because I’ve been sick. It started last Monday with a one-day dose of the flu — not fun at all. But that went away rather quickly and, just as I thought things were getting back to normal, I was struck down with an awful stomach flu that I’m just now starting to get over.
Jeanie refers to what I have as “roto-virus” (at least that’s how it sounds when she says it). The phrase reminds me of “Roto-Rooter,” and that’s a pretty accurate description of what the virus does to your system. But I’m doing better now, though I’m still subsisting on a diet of Gatorade and the occasional milkshake.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Fantastic Fours
We were "tagged" recently to answer a bunch of questions that revolve around the number four, so here we go:
Four jobs I’ve had:
Erik
• Sporting Goods/Automotive —
K-Mart, Macon, Ga.
• Sports clerk — The (Nashville) Tennessean
• Assistant Civic Editor — The Savannah (Ga.) Morning News
• Assistant Managing Editor — The Christian Chronicle
Jeanie
• Substitute teacher — Altus, Okla.
• Computer clerk/cleaning lady at antique store — Edmond, Okla.
• Lab technician, Oklahoma Christian Uniiversity and University of Oklahoma Health Sciences Center — Oklahoma City
• Pediatric resident — OUHSC
Four movies I could watch over and over:
Erik
• Any of the “Star Wars” movies (except Episodes I and II)
• Any of the “Lord of the Rings” Movies
• “Dr. Strangelove”
• “About a Boy”
(Jeanie said I should list my “Simpsons” DVDs here, but they’re not technically movies. “Hotel Rwanda” also almost made this list.)
Jeanie:
• “Sweet Home Alabama”
• “Three Men and a Little Lady”
• “Hope Floats”
• “Father of the Bride Part II”
Four books I could read over and over:
Erik
(In addition to the Bible and assorted commentaries)
• "To Kill a Mockingbird" — possibly the greatest American novel of all time
• Any of the “Lord of the Rings” books (including “The Hobbit”)
• “The Simpsons” episode guides
• “Letters From a Nut’”
Jeanie
• “In His Steps”
• “Life on the Edge”
• “Little Women”
• (a number of books about people of the Bible)
Four places I've lived:
Erik
• Alexandria, Va.
• Macon, Ga.
• Nashville, Tenn.
• Edmond, Okla.
Jeanie
• Altus, Okla.
• Oklahoma City
• Edmond, Okla.
• (My parents actually own land in Madill, Okla. Does that count?)
Four TV shows I watch:
Erik
• “The Simpsons”
• “Law & Order”
• “The Office”
• “House”
Jeanie
• “Law & Order”
• “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit”
• “E.R.”
• “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition”
Four places I've been on vacation:
Erik
• San Antonio, Texas
• Honolulu, Hawaii
• Boston
• Washington (D.C.)
Jeanie
• Honolulu, Hawaii
• Kingston, Grand Cayman
• Numerous band tour locales from coast to coast
• Branson, Mo.
Four Web sites I visit daily:
Erik
• The Christian Chronicle — No surprise there.
• Slate.com — I always find something worth reading
• news.bbc.co.uk — International news from the BBC. The only news agency that REALLY seems to know what’s going on in the Central African Republic or Djibouti.
• Google.com — Also a no-brainer
Jeanie
• my e-mail
• Resnet — for pediatric residents
• Various blogs
• www.mrcc.org — Memorial Road Church of Christ
Four favorite foods:
Erik
• Frisco melt and fries from Steak N’ Shake
• Encheladas platter from Pablano Grill or Ted’s (or Chelinos)
• Spaghetti marinara and side Caesar salad from Fazoli’s (provided there are breadsticks — see earlier post)
• Salmon, salmon, salmon!
Jeanie
• Cheese enchiladas (see above restaurants)
• Canadian bacon and onion pizza from Hideaway
• Curly fries from Arby’s
• Chocolate layer dessert
Four nicknames I have had:
Erik
• Trygg
• Enrique
• E
• Erda Boy (long story)
Jeanie
• Jeanie Bea (or Bea)
• Pumpkin
• Big Toot (that’s what Jones, our babysitter, called me. My sister was Little Toot.)
• Mom (because I was the “mom” in the youth group)
Four places I’d like to visit (that’ I’ve never been):
Erik
• Cambodia
• Norway
• New Zealand
• Japan
Jeanie
• Vienna, Austria
• London
• Washington, D.C.
• New York City
Saturday, February 04, 2006
PHOTO: New Year's sunrise
(By Erik)
I shot this photo early on Jan. 1, 2006. I was up early because I took Jeanie to work.
I thought the tree looked cool.
Click on the photo to see a larger version
I shot this photo early on Jan. 1, 2006. I was up early because I took Jeanie to work.
I thought the tree looked cool.
Click on the photo to see a larger version
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Reflections on witnessing a crime
(By Erik)
For the first time in my life, I am a victim of thievery.
I’m still in a state of quasi-shock about it. You think you live in a safe place like Edmond, Oklahoma, not the mean streets of New York City.
And then something like this happens.
I had just finished ordering at Taco Mayo after church tonight when I noticed a young lady standing behind me. She and some friends had entered the restaurant as I was waiting for Jeanie to meet me, so I moved out of the way to let them order.
But she and her friends (one female, one male) had milled around, gone in and out of the bathroom, and now only the one, dark-haired girl was left behind me. I glanced over my shoulder at her and noticed she was staring at me and glancing at the counter — with a very nervous look on her face.
Then it happened.
All I remember is that the girl suddenly ran out of the restaurant. Later I learned the terrible truth. Before she made her exit she leaned forward and grabbed something off of the plastic tray that was waiting for me.
That’s right … she stole my taco.
It turns out that her two cohorts were waiting in the car to make a speedy getaway. I thought about giving chase, but it was too late. That taco likely was digested before they were out of the parking lot.
It makes me so sad to think of what became of the stolen taco. Did that rebellious girl savor it like I would have? How could she? Did she visit the salsa bar and lovingly coat it with salsa verde and pico de gallo? Of course not. (At least I didn’t see her steal any condiments.) Did she bother to share with her diabolical getaway drivers? How satisfied could three people be with one taco?
The folks at Taco Mayo were good enough to make me another taco, but it wasn’t the same.
I’m sure the restaurant’s insurance will cover the cost of the taco that was stolen, but I wouldn’t be surprised if their premiums go up, raising the price of tacos for all of us law-abiding consumers.
Crime simply doesn’t pay. And at the end of the day, all it brings us is a dry, un-salsa-laden mass of ground beef, lettuce and cheese on a crispy shell (because I like the crunchiness, and I still think this whole “soft taco” craze is just a fad).
For the first time in my life, I am a victim of thievery.
I’m still in a state of quasi-shock about it. You think you live in a safe place like Edmond, Oklahoma, not the mean streets of New York City.
And then something like this happens.
I had just finished ordering at Taco Mayo after church tonight when I noticed a young lady standing behind me. She and some friends had entered the restaurant as I was waiting for Jeanie to meet me, so I moved out of the way to let them order.
But she and her friends (one female, one male) had milled around, gone in and out of the bathroom, and now only the one, dark-haired girl was left behind me. I glanced over my shoulder at her and noticed she was staring at me and glancing at the counter — with a very nervous look on her face.
Then it happened.
All I remember is that the girl suddenly ran out of the restaurant. Later I learned the terrible truth. Before she made her exit she leaned forward and grabbed something off of the plastic tray that was waiting for me.
That’s right … she stole my taco.
It turns out that her two cohorts were waiting in the car to make a speedy getaway. I thought about giving chase, but it was too late. That taco likely was digested before they were out of the parking lot.
It makes me so sad to think of what became of the stolen taco. Did that rebellious girl savor it like I would have? How could she? Did she visit the salsa bar and lovingly coat it with salsa verde and pico de gallo? Of course not. (At least I didn’t see her steal any condiments.) Did she bother to share with her diabolical getaway drivers? How satisfied could three people be with one taco?
The folks at Taco Mayo were good enough to make me another taco, but it wasn’t the same.
I’m sure the restaurant’s insurance will cover the cost of the taco that was stolen, but I wouldn’t be surprised if their premiums go up, raising the price of tacos for all of us law-abiding consumers.
Crime simply doesn’t pay. And at the end of the day, all it brings us is a dry, un-salsa-laden mass of ground beef, lettuce and cheese on a crispy shell (because I like the crunchiness, and I still think this whole “soft taco” craze is just a fad).
Thoughts on President Bush's State of the Union address
(By Erik)
I didn't watch it.
But Scrubs came on later and had some funny moments.
I didn't watch it.
But Scrubs came on later and had some funny moments.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Addendum to previous post
(By Erik)
In my previous post I asked why the falsehoods in A Million Little Pieces were exposed by a Web site called The Smoking Gun and not by one of the “traditional” news outlets.
I was reading Slate.com today and discovered that a reporter at the Minneapolis Star Tribune actually started asking questions about the book way back in 2003. This reporter exposed some discrepancies in the text and even talked to the publisher, who was on Oprah yesterday.
So why did The Smoking Gun get credit for debunking the book? I’m guessing because the Star Tribune’s story appeared before the book made Oprah’s Book Club.
Timing is everything in this business. At least my faith in newspapers is restored.
The Slate story is here.
In my previous post I asked why the falsehoods in A Million Little Pieces were exposed by a Web site called The Smoking Gun and not by one of the “traditional” news outlets.
I was reading Slate.com today and discovered that a reporter at the Minneapolis Star Tribune actually started asking questions about the book way back in 2003. This reporter exposed some discrepancies in the text and even talked to the publisher, who was on Oprah yesterday.
So why did The Smoking Gun get credit for debunking the book? I’m guessing because the Star Tribune’s story appeared before the book made Oprah’s Book Club.
Timing is everything in this business. At least my faith in newspapers is restored.
The Slate story is here.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
A million little thoughts on today's Oprah
(By Erik)
I don’t usually watch Oprah, but as I was flipping around the dial tonight I caught a few minutes of the rerun of her show from earlier today.
The queen of talk had James Frey, author of A Million Little Pieces making a return visit. Instead of praising his book like she did last time, Oprah lit into the guy, accusing him of fabricating parts of his so-called memoir.
Long story short, Frey wrote a book about his years as a drug addict, his arrests, court appearances and his recovery. A Web site called The Smoking Gun investigated and found that the book is mostly horse plop. Evidently the author got confused and described what likely was a three-hour stay in jail as an 87-day stay in jail. (But I know it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re in the Big House.)
Here are some thoughts on today’s Oprah and “Freygate.”
• I’m kinda’ surprised that people are so surprised about this. Embellishment seems to be a defining characteristic of people who used to be “bad” and now have recovered in some way.
I remember several chapel talks and devotionals at Lipscomb featuring people who talked about their devious pasts and God-fearing redemptions. They always made themselves sound a lot worse than I suspect they really were, and we all just accepted that.
• Why was Frey willing to go on Oprah? His book continues to sell well regardless of (or maybe because of) the controversy. He’s no dummy.
• Why was this story broken by some Web site called The Smoking Gun and not by the New York Times or even Newsweek’s Michael Isikoff? Have the traditional news outlets lost their investigative edge? I’ve done some police reporting, and what these Web guys found was easy to track down.
• There was a sort of “hole” in Frey’s hair where you could see clear through to his scalp. That bugged me.
• The article on The Smoking Gun’s site exposing the fabrications is HORRIBLE! It’s some of the worst journalistic writing I’ve ever seen. It’s about six pages long and constantly references itself. (Nobody cares how many phone calls you made or how many man-hours you logged while pursuing the story.) Investigative reporting demands good writing.
• The joke that the guy from the Poynter Institute made was stupid. Nobody laughed. I felt sorry for him.
• Looking at the book’s cover, all I can think of is, “Mmmmmm … sprinkles.”
• Oprah has long been seen as the focus of postmodern beliefs. The “church of Oprah” basically states that you should believe in whatever works for you — whether it’s Jesus, karma or prayers to the almighty Scratch N’ Win (well, maybe not that last one).
Increasingly, we live in a society that rejects the notion of absolute truth. I think that, on some level, this influenced Frey when he wrote his book. Maybe he even thought that writing a “memoir” allowed him to create his own version of reality. If objective truth is merely an illusion anyway, what’s the harm?
It’s interesting to me that Oprah herself — who tells viewers to believe what they want to believe in matters of faith — has come forward to say, “That’s enough. You’re lying. That’s wrong.” While confronting Frey, Oprah openly praised the value of truth on her show — a notion that postmodernity rejects. Could this be a turning point, where we realize that absolute truth actually exists and has value?
• There are WAY too many commercial breaks during Oprah’s show.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Fazoli’s Law of Breadsticks
(By Erik)
When you don’t have any breadsticks, the breadstick guy will never visit your table because he’ll keep running out of breadsticks before he gets to you.
When you have breadsticks, the breadstick guy will be at your table every two minutes offering you more.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Yes, I do exist — I have the TOAD hours to prove it!
(By Jeanie)
Okay, Okay!
I would imagine some of you are wondering if this Jeanie person who appears in some of Erik’s posts really exists. Well here I am, I really exist. I was allowed to leave the realm of the University of Oklahoma Pediatrics Program to leave this blog entry.
However, to pay the penance for this one night of blogging bliss, I must give the tour tomorrow for the would-be interns, attend the noon conference on some sort of anemia, and then spend the next twelve hours taking care of the children of Oklahoma who would be in need of the services provided by Children’s Emergency Department. Hope you enjoy!
(Oh, and by the way, TOAD stands for “Time On Active Duty.”)
I guess I should use this initial post to tell you a little about me. For some of you who know all this stuff, I apologize for the boring post. I grew up in a little town called Altus, Okla. When I graduated from high school, I went to Oklahoma Christian University and received a bachelor’s degree in biology.
In between undergrad and medical school, I worked in two different research labs. My job in the first lab was to take umbilical cord blood and process it to collect stem cells. I then grew the cells to form platelets. I thought this was a cool job!
The second lab was devoted to polycystic kidney disease. For this job, I had to take rat organs (hearts, livers, kidneys, brains, etc.) freeze them, put them on slides and then stain them. This did not have quite the same appeal as the cord blood.
The next move in my life was to go to medical school. After one semester, I felt so isolated from the singles group at Memorial Road that, although I had only had four hours of sleep, I decided that I needed to go to the service project at 6 a.m. It was breakfast that morning that rewrote the story that I thought I had already published for my life although I did not know it at the time.
It was that morning that I met my future husband. We began dating in January 2002, were engaged in September, and married the following June. (For those contemplating a career in medicine, might I suggest not planning a wedding four days after your medical licensure exam.) Well, I graduated from medical school in May 2005 and now I am a pediatric resident for the University of Oklahoma.
Well, I have probably bored you enough with who I am and what I do. Before finishing this post I must say that I have been very blessed. I have a wonderful Christian husband who has been blessed with a job at The Christian Chronicle. My parents instilled their values in me and worked many long, hard hours to send me to private school.
I am a member of a wonderful caring church at Memorial Road, and our Connection Group offers unending emotional and spiritual support. I will tell more about these later.
(This blog post is dedicated to Ann, who reminded us that we hadn’t posted anything new in a while.)
Okay, Okay!
I would imagine some of you are wondering if this Jeanie person who appears in some of Erik’s posts really exists. Well here I am, I really exist. I was allowed to leave the realm of the University of Oklahoma Pediatrics Program to leave this blog entry.
However, to pay the penance for this one night of blogging bliss, I must give the tour tomorrow for the would-be interns, attend the noon conference on some sort of anemia, and then spend the next twelve hours taking care of the children of Oklahoma who would be in need of the services provided by Children’s Emergency Department. Hope you enjoy!
(Oh, and by the way, TOAD stands for “Time On Active Duty.”)
I guess I should use this initial post to tell you a little about me. For some of you who know all this stuff, I apologize for the boring post. I grew up in a little town called Altus, Okla. When I graduated from high school, I went to Oklahoma Christian University and received a bachelor’s degree in biology.
In between undergrad and medical school, I worked in two different research labs. My job in the first lab was to take umbilical cord blood and process it to collect stem cells. I then grew the cells to form platelets. I thought this was a cool job!
The second lab was devoted to polycystic kidney disease. For this job, I had to take rat organs (hearts, livers, kidneys, brains, etc.) freeze them, put them on slides and then stain them. This did not have quite the same appeal as the cord blood.
The next move in my life was to go to medical school. After one semester, I felt so isolated from the singles group at Memorial Road that, although I had only had four hours of sleep, I decided that I needed to go to the service project at 6 a.m. It was breakfast that morning that rewrote the story that I thought I had already published for my life although I did not know it at the time.
It was that morning that I met my future husband. We began dating in January 2002, were engaged in September, and married the following June. (For those contemplating a career in medicine, might I suggest not planning a wedding four days after your medical licensure exam.) Well, I graduated from medical school in May 2005 and now I am a pediatric resident for the University of Oklahoma.
Well, I have probably bored you enough with who I am and what I do. Before finishing this post I must say that I have been very blessed. I have a wonderful Christian husband who has been blessed with a job at The Christian Chronicle. My parents instilled their values in me and worked many long, hard hours to send me to private school.
I am a member of a wonderful caring church at Memorial Road, and our Connection Group offers unending emotional and spiritual support. I will tell more about these later.
(This blog post is dedicated to Ann, who reminded us that we hadn’t posted anything new in a while.)
Saturday, January 07, 2006
PHOTO: The sign says it all
(By Erik)
Greetings from Early, Texas, where I've been reporting on the sendoff of a mission team to Bolivia from the Austin Avenue church in nearby Brownwood.
On my way here I spotted this church sign in the small town of Dublin, Texas, and took a picture. West Texas, like Oklahoma, is extremely dry and under a severe fire risk warning. All the lakes and ponds I passed are turning into mud puddles.
And, as you can see, there's not a cloud in the sky.
Cllick on the photo to see a larger version
Greetings from Early, Texas, where I've been reporting on the sendoff of a mission team to Bolivia from the Austin Avenue church in nearby Brownwood.
On my way here I spotted this church sign in the small town of Dublin, Texas, and took a picture. West Texas, like Oklahoma, is extremely dry and under a severe fire risk warning. All the lakes and ponds I passed are turning into mud puddles.
And, as you can see, there's not a cloud in the sky.
Cllick on the photo to see a larger version
Monday, January 02, 2006
D'OH!
(By Erik)
Just got finished watching my Dawgs in the Nokia Sugar Bowl.
In retrospect, maybe spotting West Virginia those 28 points to make it fair wasn't such a good idea ...
Just got finished watching my Dawgs in the Nokia Sugar Bowl.
In retrospect, maybe spotting West Virginia those 28 points to make it fair wasn't such a good idea ...
Saturday, December 31, 2005
PHOTO: Pointing the way
(By Erik)
This lonely road sign tells travelers that the church meets in St. Jo, Texas.
I took this picture in early 2002, on the way back from a medical missions conference in Dallas.
Just before Christmas in 2001 I participated in a service project with the singles group at Memorial Road.
We ate at Cracker Barrel afterward, and I sat next to a medical school student named Jeanie Jacks. I found out she was from Altus, Okla., and that her parents worked for one of the churches there.
A few days later I was thumbing through the latest issue of the Chronicle and noticed that there was an early January gospel meeting in Altus. It was right after the medical missions conference.
As I drove north on I-35E coming back from Dallas, I debated whether or not to swing westward and stop in Altus on the way home. Going to the gospel meeting might produce a story for the paper — and it definitely would give me something to talk to Jeanie about. I exited the interstate just north of Denton.
I took the backroads and stopped along the way to photograph church signs and buildings. There were lots to choose from.
I kept telling myself that I was really doing all of this for the Chronicle — and we eventually ran some of the photos in a feature on small churches.
I drove all over Altus and couldn't find the civic center where the gospel meeting was to take place. I even stopped at the local Wal-Mart and Altus Air Force Base to ask for directions, but nobody seemed to know that Altus even had a civic center.
Finally, I gave up and went home.
I was the first person in the history of the universe to get lost in Altus, Okla. I never found the gospel meeting, but I had a funny story to tell Jeanie Jacks. I still remember her giggling uncontrollably as I told her about my little adventure. I asked her out a few weeks later.
Now, after two and a half years of marriage, I’ve driven by that civic center in Altus at least a dozen times.
Jeanie and I are planning to attend the 2006 Medical Missions Seminar in Dallas a few days from now.
It’s unlikely that we’ll drive through St. Jo, but as we pass through Denton, I'll be thinking about that little westward turn four years ago that changed my life.
Happy New Year, everybody.
This lonely road sign tells travelers that the church meets in St. Jo, Texas.
I took this picture in early 2002, on the way back from a medical missions conference in Dallas.
Just before Christmas in 2001 I participated in a service project with the singles group at Memorial Road.
We ate at Cracker Barrel afterward, and I sat next to a medical school student named Jeanie Jacks. I found out she was from Altus, Okla., and that her parents worked for one of the churches there.
A few days later I was thumbing through the latest issue of the Chronicle and noticed that there was an early January gospel meeting in Altus. It was right after the medical missions conference.
As I drove north on I-35E coming back from Dallas, I debated whether or not to swing westward and stop in Altus on the way home. Going to the gospel meeting might produce a story for the paper — and it definitely would give me something to talk to Jeanie about. I exited the interstate just north of Denton.
I took the backroads and stopped along the way to photograph church signs and buildings. There were lots to choose from.
I kept telling myself that I was really doing all of this for the Chronicle — and we eventually ran some of the photos in a feature on small churches.
I drove all over Altus and couldn't find the civic center where the gospel meeting was to take place. I even stopped at the local Wal-Mart and Altus Air Force Base to ask for directions, but nobody seemed to know that Altus even had a civic center.
Finally, I gave up and went home.
I was the first person in the history of the universe to get lost in Altus, Okla. I never found the gospel meeting, but I had a funny story to tell Jeanie Jacks. I still remember her giggling uncontrollably as I told her about my little adventure. I asked her out a few weeks later.
Now, after two and a half years of marriage, I’ve driven by that civic center in Altus at least a dozen times.
Jeanie and I are planning to attend the 2006 Medical Missions Seminar in Dallas a few days from now.
It’s unlikely that we’ll drive through St. Jo, but as we pass through Denton, I'll be thinking about that little westward turn four years ago that changed my life.
Happy New Year, everybody.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
