I doubt anyone has ever done this, but I’m pretty sure you could draw a line from geek to nerd to freak as a continuum of increasing intelligence and decreasing social aptitude. Me? I’m good with people.
And so it is my interest in – not my understanding of – most things tech that keeps me in the geek column. This is why I listened when Leo Laporte of This Week in Tech recommended the Millennium Trilogy by Steig Larsson as a great read for geeks who like a good story. He also bragged on the incredible narration of Simon Vance in the audiobook release. Well, twist my arm.
So when my monthly Audible credit rolled around, I dove into the world of the Swedish underground with book one, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. At the same time, I discovered the Swedish film adaptation available on Netflix for instant viewing. Normally I would read the book first, then catch the movie. In this case, I’m glad I broke protocol.
The movie was excellent. The casting was spot on in my opinion having now completed the novel. The story was followed with fidelity on everything critical to the plot. There were a few variations, but that kept it interesting for me.
The plot and sub plots get a little complicated only because they take a long time to develop as one story. The movie condenses this of course. So having seen the movie helped me keep it all straight. (Remember, I’m good with people.)
Story aside, the book was interesting for a number of reasons. I’m one of those dumb Americans who thinks the whole world is just like me. So it was intriguing to watch the Swedish (perhaps simply European) way of life become a character. Dialogue (even post-translation) as well as attitudes about social structure, sex, and professional ethics, all had a distinctly different flavor than a book by Patterson, Turrow, or Clancey.
Also interesting to me was the picture of Stockholm with this seedy underbelly of corruption and crime. Not once did anyone yodel from a mountaintop. No one even yelled “ricola!”
But I can see why these novels are so popular. I’m interested to see what happens to the American film adaptation, rumored for a 2012 release. Early indications peg Natalie Portman for the lead, with the typical leading guys on the short list too (Pitt, Clooney, yada, yada).
NB: These books center on characters with pretty liberal morals. Scenes are graphic and situations can be uncomfortable. Just saying, don’t buy it for your 12 year old daughter.
Yes. I know it’s a horrible headline. But luckily for the President of Zambia, only the first part is actually true. And you thought the White House Press Corps was bad . .
Today our family said good bye to an amazing woman. Willie J. Hornsby was my great grandmother, my children’s great great grandmother. As incredible as it sounds that anyone would live to see the birth of their fifth generation, I find it equally incredible that my children actually knew this woman. She talked with them, laughed with them, held them in her arms.
She loved my kids, and they loved her . . . deeply. This morning, I received an email from the oldest of my children. In the email, McKenzie sends out this prayer to her immediate family celebrating the four foot, eight inch matriarch we affectionly refer to as “Little Mamaw:”
Dear God,
We thank you for little mamaw she was a sweet kind woman who we loved alot. We know she is in heaven with you and that she has a new body. That she can eat, drink, run, play, and even laugh. Lord ,we thank you for giving her that chance. Please help us not to grieve but to rejoice for she is in heaven with you. Please be with aunt Annie and her daughter, uncle Sonny and his kids, Mamaw and Papaw, Terry,Teresa and her kids, Diane, Gigi and daddy, and mommy, me, RileyGrace, and Logan. Thank you for her and let her have a wonderful everlasting life with you.
My daughter, McKenzie, loves to dance. She loves to watch it, do it, talk about it . . . well, that last one doesn’t count since she loves to talk about anything. But you get the point. This passion is purely within her. She takes no formal dance classes, and benefits only from the kind encouragement of a talented friend who helps her along from time to time.
So completely on her own, she choreographed the dance below, a dance that would lead to one of the greatest lessons of faith I’ve ever been taught. The story is below the video. So read and watch, or watch and read. I’ll let you decide.
Ten-year-olds are notorious for dreaming up big plans, setting their hearts on them, but never allowing their brains in on the planning. This was my fear when McKenzie shared with me that she was choreographing a dance for her upcoming Chorus Christmas Concert.
“Oh, has the teacher asked you to dance?” I asked.
“No. Not yet. But I’m going to show it to her when I’m finished. If she likes it, maybe she add it in.”
“Now wait a minute,” says Papa Bear. ”You do understand that she might not be able to ‘add it in’ even if she likes it, right? I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“Sure, Dad. I know. Don’t worry. It’s just something fun.”
This something fun turned into hours of work, internet research (she wanted to include sign language), and lots of practice. I was terrified that she was in for the biggest disappointment of her short life.
I know, I know. Oh ye of little faith. The teacher loved it, added it in, and made me feel about three inches tall. But that’s only the beginning of the story.
Two weeks before the concert, McKenzie was stepping out of our van, something she does between 1 and 5 times every day. But this time, something went wrong. In a split second, her ankle twisted, her knee buckled, and her heart broke. After a visit to the doctor, we confirmed the diagnoses as a sprained ankle, bought a pair of cruthes, and proceeded to try and explain to our daughter how God could allow this to happen after she had worked so hard and had come so far. There were many tears, most of them mine.
But she’s a trooper, our McKenzie. She resigned herself to the fact that God’s will is perfect. She told me that while our prayers might not always yield the results for which we hope, we should still pray all the same. After all, she said, we don’t always know His will, so just to be sure . . . (I love that kid.)
I was thinking about her comments last Thursday night, the night for which the concert was scheduled. That’s when I saw it, a snow flake. A big, fat, wet snowflake. And it had friends. Lots of them. By the time I had made it home the ground was covered and the concert was postponed five days. As it turns out, that’s just enough time for an ankle to finish healing. More importantly, it was more than enough time for my daughter see just how far God is willing to go to answer a little girl’s prayer.
And so she danced. Perhaps this was the first of many such performances to come. But I dare say that none of them will come with a greater sense of knowing just how loved she is by her Creator. What peace there is in that knowledge. And how fitting that the title of the song to which she danced is “Song of Peace.”
