Haircuts

The kid's teacher pulled me aside and told me he had cut his hair in the middle of class. She found little piles of hair on his desk and asked him if that was in fact the case and why he did it. "Parce que ça me gêne," he responded matter of factly. "Because it annoys me." Reasonable enough.

And like most of the things he does, it was not an impulsive act, but rather careful and thought through. He took a few nice straight snips right in the middle of the hair that often hung in his eyes. When it was brushed over, you could hardly notice it.

Instead of being angry, his mother and I were almost proud, even on the verge of being affirming. After all, what should we expect when he's been asking for a cut and he's grown up watching his mother cut her own hair?

And so when it came time to finish the job and finally cut off the impressive locks he's grown over the past year, his mother handed him the hair trimmer and let him do the honors on the sides, teaching him along the way. He opted not to cut the top with scissors, and left that for her to finish.

He's six. If he keeps this up, he'll be able to put himself through college like his mother did, giving 5 dollar haircuts to friends. Why wait? It could start in middle school.

Flashbacks

Spending two hours in the car every day this week to go see my wife in the hospital has given me plenty of time to listen to music, and I've been digging in the archives. I listened to this today and sang just about every word.

I remember very clearly the first time I heard The Dingees. I put the headphones on in the Christian bookstore and from the opening seconds I was hooked.

I got this disc on my 16th birthday at the surprise party in the backyard. I put it on immediately.

The photo of the guys wearing their black zip-up hoodies inspired me to go out and buy one for myself; the one I bought became a staple and stayed with me for more than 10 years.

I gave their music to Fraser, trying to convince him that "Christian" music didn't suck and that they were just as good if not better than Rancid. He agreed they were good; I'm not sure he was ready to accept that they were better than Rancid.

I used to play their music on the sound system before youth group on Wednesday nights, and we'd dance. (OK, skank might be a more accurate term, but I was trying to avoid it.)

I think I only saw them play once; we drove someplace far away to watch them play with Ghoti Hook.

And I still really, really like their music. Most of the punk and ska from my teenage years has been retired to a large CD booklet holder, being preserved mostly for nostalgia's sake. But after all these years the Dingees have stayed on the shelf.

They never belonged in the parallel-universe of a niche market they found themselves in, but I'm glad they showed up there because I never would have run into them otherwise.

Hasta Mañana

Je suis entré dans une église. C'était la première fois. Wow. Impressionant.

We went to see this little indie film in town last night, to see the directors and an actor talk about it afterwards. One of the two directors just turned 18, and if I understand correctly he's become the youngest film director in the history of French cinema...but maybe I didn't understand correctly.

It was not a film that blew me away, but it was a really enjoyable community experience. The audience was, for some reason, nombreux and really enthusiastic. And as the credits rolled I learned these young bucks appear to be Christians. I loved witnessing their idealism, their big dreams and the pursuit of them, and a promising start to a much longer career. A cynical world, me included, often scorns such naiveté, but if we let go of our own vicious insecurities that too often keep us from trying, something about it becomes quite contagious. And it's all a lot easier, as the film's story and directing team show, if you've got a good friend who is advocating for you every step of the way.

What if each of us had a friend like that? What if each of us could be a friend like that?

Backyard Soccer à la française

Yesterday was our first superFrench day-long party-gathering.

The dads organized a parent vs. kid soccer game.

The game began and the men were typically nonchalant in their approach, as if they didn't care and weren't excited, just humoring their children. They kept this attitude but went on and deftly dodged little ones, barely running yet weaving through, scoring goals, all while effortlessly ensuring they didn't spill a drop from their plastic cups of wine. An impressive display of understated finesse.

As the American, I was in it to win it. I was the only one not clutching a beverage, the only one to clumsily bulldoze the five-year-old birthday-boy within the first 5 seconds of the game, sending him off hysterically crying, the only one sprinting, the only one yelling, the only one tripping over the improperly inflated ball, the only one missing the goal with each wild kick. An impressive display of...an overstated lack of finesse.

I've still got a lot to learn.

On Needing Critics - from Life Itself

For too long in the Christian community, "love" and "unity" mean a fear of conflict, a fear of disagreement, a fear of criticism, a fear of plain speak and direct talk. "Humility" means not saying what you think, and not standing up too firmly for what you believe in. Those who do speak up, then, supposedly have intentions to wound and to divide, and are quickly written off as arrogant.

Part of the problem is not the spiritual side of things, but a wanting educational system where everyone is right. We've never learned how to develop and support and defend our stances and opinions, and as a result most of us really are tossed to and fro  by the waves and carried about by every wind. Christian or not, it's a lack of critical thinking skills and civil discourse skills. Too often, though not always, the only ones left to speak up then truly are arrogant, brash, flippant, belittling.

Watching Life Itself, Roger Ebert inspired me. Too often we see critics as the pretentious intellectual snobs that too easily approve certain things (that are often unpopular) and disapprove of others (that are often popular). They seem to do it to please themselves and their pretentious friends, and there is no real connection with the average consumer. They do it out of narcissism; they love their opinions more than the art and take pleasure in cutting others down. But Ebert seemed different; he seemed to have a real concern for the average person, a real concern for the art, a real concern for the director, and a real concern to make things better. He wasn't a critic to criticize, it seemed he was ultimately a critic to exhort and admonish.

He seemed to detest Siskel, and the feeling was mutual. The way they argued with one another and judged films was not only frank, it was rare in our day where everyone's right, everything's amazing, and no one knows why. But they always backed up what they said, they challenged one another, they hung in there, they stuck together, and ultimately they were both better for it. What they did together was stronger than what they could do apart, and the consistent mutual challenge steadily improved their craft. There were plenty of moments they hated one another, but it seems as though ultimately, they learned to treasure one another.

Ebert did the same with film directors. Though not a director himself, it was almost as if he mentored them. He cheered for them and encouraged them and made them better. He took heat for befriending directors: how would he maintain an objective voice? The reality was just the opposite: he criticized even his friends when it was deserved, and men like Scorcese talked about how valuable that was. They listened, but only because he knew what he he was talking about and because he was a friend.

What if we in the church could experience the same thing? What if we could talk straight and not be afraid of it? What if we pushed one another toward excellence? What if we challenged each other to be the best we could be? What if we hung in there with one another, determined to make it work, hashed it out, kept talking, kept explaining, kept defending and supporting? If it were housed in love and commitment and in gospel-centered unity, and if it were received with listening ears and truly humble spirits, just maybe it would actually make us better.

I'm afraid we too easily shun the critics. But if they've got intentions like Ebert's, I'd say we just might need them. 

I've never been a big follower of Ebert, but I've read plenty of people thanking and praising him. I'm ready to join.