Alas, I’ll be in Vegas
For the tenth or eleventh time ✏️ 🎤 🎵
Inspired by part of this interview with Lisa Silvestri, the author of Peace by Peace: Risking Public Action, Creating Social Change, which I may read soonish with my friend Neill—after I finish:
- Forgiveness: An Alternative Account, which Ruth and I both got excited about roughly simultaneously and thus co-purchased (co-purchasing books—what a fun idea! an interpersonal nano-library…),
- parts of Stricken by God?, another of Neill’s recommendations after he read my essay about the Cross, and
- Watchmen, recommended to me by both my son and my wife—
here is a list of what bothers me:
- barriers to walkability,
- the predominance of solo, receptive, junky entertainment,
- words whose poor definitional boundaries cause moral problems,
- faulty exegesis,
- parroting, and
- roadkill.
One of the reasons—maybe the main reason—I find the built environment in Europe more charming that in the U.S. is the relative lack of billboards and overhead power lines.
We measure distance more frequently in units of time than in units of length. Why? What does that say about our culture?
With the advent of Rivian electric pickup trucks, not to mention Tesla’s plans and Ford’s all-electric F-150, my appetite for a new vehicle has finally come. But it’s better for the environment for me to run the Mazda into the ground first. So hold up, lil’ dogie.
I rode my rented bike today from the hotel to Kerry Park Overlook to the Fremont Troll to the Chittenden Locks to West Point at Discovery Park.
I sent a message to Carla upon watching the sunset from West Point saying, “If God is only as beautiful as this, He is enough to hold my attention for eternity.”
After returning the bike to Velo, I spent the entire walk back to the hotel worrying about where to put my stickers—the place stickers I get for my bike and the Restoring Eden stickers—in a place where they can be on display forever (so my computer, water bottle, and bike, which I think I’ll be replacing in the next ten years) but not call too much attention to myself or violate the virtue of humility.
Brandon took me to Disney World Hollywood Studios this evening as a token of appreciation. The highlights for me were:
- the Tower of Terror, which as a virtual brush with death was probably good for my anxious heart
- Rock n Roll Coaster, a fast-start roller coaster that I was terrified of at the beginning but loved after it began, as usual.
- a beautiful voice message from Carla and the kids telling me they love me.
- an often goofy but somehow touching The Great Movie Ride. It may have been the glimpse of George Bailey being embraced by his children during a rapid-fire montage at the end of the ride.
Walking is one of my favorite activities. That means this afternoon made my happy: I not only got to walk the sheep pastures with God and sing snippets of Delirious? numbers to Him, but also got to walk from Sunset Park to Pattee Library to Rec Hall and back—about one mile each way—with Sullivan and Éa, who enjoyed seeing the sights and climbing things as much as I enjoyed watching them enjoy them.
On our Saturday morning errands, feeling proudly countercultural, I suggested the kids walk ahead of me to Barnes & Noble while I returned spoons Carla had bought from Ross Dress for Less. Sullivan’s eyes widened with excitement at the prospect. So they did it, following the sidewalk as much as they could, as instructed.
In my perfect world, there would be sidewalks connecting Ross to Barnes & Noble, and it would not be extraordinary for a six-year-old to walk to a building three hundred feet away from his dad.
(The photos is from our walk back to the car together.)
Well, what do you know? We just contributed to the happiness, or at least the punctuality, of fellow travelers from Quebec to Baxter State Park. And the border guards on the logging roads near Saint-Just-de-Bretenières got their wish to be a little lonelier:
We stopped in Danville on our way home from Rowland to pick up a brace-and-bit. Cassie Weaver had picked it up for us. We got to see her apartment, nibble on some fudge her mom had graciously given her to give to us, watch a few minutes of the PSU-Wisconsin football game, and then treat her to chicken cheese steak dinner at the sub shop across the street from the Danville Sub Shop, whatever its name is.
All that to say: I’d like to start incorporating friendly and relaxing stopovers into all our trips. Doing so would break up the drive, build relationships, and often lead to yummy food.
Sorry! I got into my whistling.
— Scott, as we swerve off and back onto the road