The success of our big summer painting project hinged on the rental of a piece of heavy equipment, which I now know to be called a boom lift. We needed the lift to get up to the highest parts of our roof line, on the east and west sides of the house. And the best place to rent a 43-foot boom lift was in southern Summit County. But the weather forecasts called for intermittent rain (which does not mix well with painting). I had not gotten a lot of experience driving a pick-up truck hitched to a piece of heavy equipment in tow. I had never operated a boom lift. And even once I kinda sorta figured things out, I got a queasy feeling in my stomach when the lift extended to its maximum height.
I honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to pan out, especially in light of the fact that the chance of rain wrecking things was non-zero. This build-up to the weekend and the Weekend of the Boom Lift itself ended up being exhausting — but I’m happy to report that it was also triumphant.
I stretched myself to my limits in picking up the piece of equipment from the rental facility, driving it through back-roads to our house, positioning it in the driveway (thanks to some timely help from Daniel Chepke on the front end, backing into the more narrow driveway), safely operating the equipment to power-wash and prepare the surfaces to the painted and then paint the facia, soffits, and siding… and then just putting in long hours on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to do the painting and troubleshoot the little challenges that cropped up along the way.
I maintained a positive attitude for, like, 90 percent of the time — and I feel like I truly found strength in the Lord through the ups and downs of the painting process. And now I notice a profound sense of satisfaction when I look at the parts of the house that have been successfully completed: Sherwin Williams’ Extra White trim popping out against the Moscow Midnight (Blue) siding. It’s looking sharp.
We’ve still got a ways to go before it’s all said and done. But we’re getting there. And that’s not nothing.
I’ve had a frustrating summer, when it comes to reading. I usually consider it one of the great joys of this time of year to sit in a cool and shady spot, reading a book that I’ve chosen for pure entertainment. But for whatever reason, I haven’t gotten much traction over the past few months.
Just this week, I decided to return the history I’d checked out from the library, written by Gary L. Roberts and titled Doc Holliday: The Life and Legend. I first got it when our family was preparing for our trip to Wild West Texas, figuring that it would be fun to read about a famous figure from the period of history when American settlers (and prospectors and thieves and con men) were pushing into the southwest. John Henry “Doc” Holliday spent some time in West Texas before he found notoriety in Tombstone, Arizona. So his biography seemed as good as any. Except it just wasn’t. I don’t doubt the researching skills of the author, but his writing skills left something to be desired. The book was as dry as the Chihuahuan Desert. And after multiple rounds of automatic renewals from the library, I decided to call it quits at page 185 of 414. I don’t like to quit at much of anything, especially after getting almost halfway through. But I figured it was time to cut my losses and move on.
I’ve gotten about ten percent of the way through a book called The Year of Less, by Cait Flanders, and I think that might be about as far as I take it (though I appreciated the premise of a self-imposed challenge on a person’s consumeristic tendencies).
I’ve gotten 82 percent of the way through a book called Fuzz, by Mary Roach. And I think that I will eventually finish that one, though the library required its return at the end of my lending period, presumably because someone else wanted to read it. Still, it was slow-going, and I mostly want to finish it just to break the string of bad luck in book selection.
I’ve nibbled at a book from our own bookshelves called At Ease: Stories I Tell to Friends, by Dwight D. Eisenhower. But the fact that it resides in my house actually makes it strangely less likely to have any urgency in getting through it. Maybe I’ll get hungry to have some more nibbles later on, but probably not this summer.
I’ve brushed up on some Greek Mythology, from an anthology edited by Robert Graves and titled The Greek Myths, after seeing this summer’s blockbuster The Odyssey. But it’s really not the kind of book to read from cover to cover. At least not in this summer of my reading discontent.
There are still two books that I’m working through — and hopefully still likely to finish at some point. But I won’t include them on this list of fizzles, failures, and frustrations lest I jinx them. I guess some stretches of life are just like that. Uninspiring. Out of sync. Weird. So I’ll just bury the dead and look for something lively on the road in front of me. If you’ve got any good recommendations for me, I’d be glad to hear them.
My friend Grace organized an event to celebrate Midwestern culture this weekend. She called it “A Midwest Midsummer Night’s Meal,” and the invitation included phrases like “Bringeth thy cass’roles!” and “A potluck feast ‘mongst thy neighb’rs.” So of course our family tapped into our Midwestern energy and thought up a favorite dish that we might be inclined to bring to a church potluck or a family reunion picnic. And our friends and neighbors did the same, too.
Our potluck meal included:
Grilled Hot Dogs (with Chicago-style fixings for those who were so inclined)
Corn on the Cob
Cheesy Potato Casserole
Cool Ranch Doritos
Crunchy Ramen Salad
Strawberry Pretzel Salad
Taffy Apple Salad
Orange Fluff Dessert
White Iced Ginger Cookies
Peanut Butter Cookies
And the food was not just comfort food, seasoned only by sentimentality. The food was legitimately amazing. A variety of different textures juxtaposed against each other within the same dish… Sweet flavors and salty flavors within the same dish, heightening the enjoyment of each other… Multiple interpretations of what a “salad” can be… And, I suppose I must admit, there were nostalgic elements to such a feast, too. But this celebration of summer reminded me that Midwestern American culture is real culture. It’s not just “boring,” or “middle-of-nowhere” or “flavorless” flatland fare. Midwesterners — and their food — lovely!
Olivia wants to be like Grace when she goes up, and I honestly can’t blame her. The meal that Grace hosted was more than the menu. We also enjoyed interesting conversation and laughter and camaraderie. There was no recitation or performance of Shakespeare or his Midsummer Night’s Dream, despite the vibe on the invitation, but that was probably just as well. We Midwesterners just like to keep it real.
We couldn’t get our painting project finished by the end of July, but we’ve made some good progress. We chose to do it ourselves since the cost was about ten percent of what we would have paid to have someone else do it for us. And even though I can appreciate the process, it’s still a lot of work to refinish the siding on our house and shed. We’ve kept chipping away at it since the beginning of July, averaging maybe an hour or two a day as weather conditions and work schedules allow. Prep work always takes the longest and feels the least rewarding. Fortunately, I’d guess that we’re about three-quarters of the way finished with scraping and sanding and power-washing.
The free-standing shed at the end of our driveway is less than a quarter of the surface area of the house, but I sincerely believe it may have represented two-thirds of the prep work because its wooden siding probably dates back to the 1930s (whereas the main structure is mostly covered with aluminum siding). We got to move past scraping and sanding to do the priming last weekend. And then earlier this week, we got to put on two coats of paint. Which felt like a significant step forward.
This weekend, we hope to finish all the rest of the prep work on everything we can reach on the main structure (saving some of the stuff that’s highest off the ground until we can rent some special equipment). And then maybe next week we can mask off the windows and woodwork and get a couple of coats of paint on the aluminum siding of the house — ideally clearing the way for a final sprint to the finish with the special equipment next weekend. That being said: I’m also emotionally preparing myself for things to stretch into September, since it seems like these sorts of projects always take twice as long and cost twice as much as originally anticipated. But we’re getting there…
It helps that she’s only moving across town for the moment: donating some things to Good Will, putting some items in a rented storage unit, and moving the rest of her stuff into our house on the west side of Kent. She’s got a job as a hostess and server at Wild Goats Cafe, to keep paying the bills while she continues to apply and interview for jobs in her field. Her preference would be to find a graphic design job in Chicago or Pittsburgh, but it’s taking a bit longer than she would wish.
It seems like her job hunt is a little bit like a soccer match. It feels like the field has started to tilt in her favor recently. She’s been getting more interviews, and more second interviews, like a soccer team that’s possessing the ball well and keeping it largely on their opponents’ side of the field. She’s getting “shots on goal,” and even though she hasn’t “hit the back of the net” yet, it really feels like it could happen at any moment. She’s “knocking on the door,” and we’re all ready to celebrate whenever she scores her big-girl job. But we’re also glad to have her hang out at our place for a while in the meantime.
Marci and I recently finished the first season of the Netflix revival of Little House on the Prairie, originally inspired by the books written by Laura Ingalls Wilder and popularized by the television series of the same title from the 1970s and 1980s. I read all the books when I was growing up, and I have vague memories of seeing at least some episodes the television series (most likely after its first run, when it was syndication). Decades later, I read the books to my kids when they were in preschool and elementary school. And in this adult, and fatherly, reading of the books I remember being really impressed with their imagery, insight, empathy, and nuance. There were multiple occasions when my kids would clamor for “one more chapter” and I was sincerely glad to oblige before bedtime. It’s never been about twee traditionalism for me. It’s been about compelling narrative and a spirit of adventure.
On some subconscious level, I suspect that part of the appeal is connected to the fact that my parents grew up on the prairie — and I would regularly visit the prairie when our family would take summer vacations to visit my grandparents out on the Great Plains. Minnesota and the Dakotas were never “plain” or “boring” to me. I definitely couldn’t have comprehended the vocabulary of “flyover states,” and not just because the phrase hadn’t been popularized at that point in history or because I hadn’t been on an airplane at that point in my life. The prairie was dynamic. Not just knee-high grasses, but rolling hills with tree-studded river valleys and everything in perpetual motion from big winds blowing down from those big skies. My Dad grew up within 100 miles of Walnut Grove, Minnesota, with the date of his birth closer to the events described in books four and five of Wilder’s book series than it is to this present moment in history. My Mom grew up within 200 miles of De Smet, South Dakota, and the date of her birth is also closer to the events described in books six, seven, and eight of the book series than it is to this week. Wild how time works like that, isn’t it?!? And wild how recently the prairie was a truly wild place.
So I really appreciated the way that this new iteration of Little House on the Prairie depicts the prairie itself. I think it captures the character of the landscape better than the previous television series, and really better than most television or film that I’ve seen set on the Great Plains. And the prairie really does feel like a character in the show, not just a setting. I think they did a good job with casting, and costuming, and set design. It seems like they drew heavily from the books, but also more general historical research. And even when they took some liberties, like shortening the apparent distance between the Ingalls’ homestead and the town of Independence, or having Caroline (a.k.a. “Ma”) seems to have packed three different bonnets on the wagon to enable her to go into town with a fashion bonnet, it serves to enhance the storytelling.
That being said, there are some pretty significant variations from the books and the first television series in this latest iteration. Honestly, these variations are probably necessary for a version produced in the 2020s: characters struggling with mental health as well as physical health, more BIPOC characters, bigger storylines for the Osage in Kansas who were being displaced by the settlers (who are in turn depicted as pawns in calculated strategies enacted by the railroad companies and the federal government). I feel like the tensions and complexities introduced by these variations create more compelling stories.
It’s kind of impressive, really, how the producers weave together some of the original storylines with some of the variations particular to this series to create compelling character arcs: particularly as it relates to the character of Caroline (“Ma”). I like the way they show that racism was a real problem in the late-1800s, but redemption was still possible.
I may be unduly influenced by my own nostalgia, but I really did enjoy this series. I would enjoy talking about it with anyone else who has gotten the chance to see it (or experience the story in any other ways, for that matter).
Marci and I went to see The Odyssey last night, along with some friends. I feel it was a worthwhile use of time and money to see the celebrated summer blockbuster and be able to join the conversation for what’s been hailed as something of a cultural event. But it’s probably relevant to note that we got to take advantage of the Monday special at the Kent Plaza Cinemas, with the movie ticket and a small popcorn for just $5.25 per person. And I honestly don’t know if I would feel as good if I had paid full price (without the popcorn) or a premium to see it in a special theater (i.e. IMAX).
It’s a good film. But not, in my opinion, a great film.
I appreciated the ambitious scale of the production: pulling together an all-star cast… relying on practical effects over computer-generated imagery… trying to prioritize period-accurate sound design and costume design… faithfully retelling a very old story with some clever tweaks to make it more relevant for 21st Century audiences… So, again, I think it was worthwhile to see in the theater, within the first couple weeks of its release.
But Homer’s original version of The Odyssey is just a weird story to start with: written approximately 2,800 years ago to capture events that supposedly took place 3,000 to 3,200 years go. It was written for a different audience in a different culture in a different age, and the ancient Greeks’ cosmology was pretty different from mine (even though I realize that some people could make similar critiques of The Bible, which informs much of my cosmology). In addition to the source material, the stylistic choices made in the production of The Odyssey also create a chaotic viewing experience: a lot of darkness and primal noises and confusion baked into the story — so it just feels overwhelming and uncomfortable. It’s also a looooooong movie (just under three hours). So, it wasn’t a particularly captivating, compelling, or comfortable viewing experience.
All that being said, I do appreciate what it seemed like the filmmakers were trying to say with this particular production. They placed a particular emphasis on what they called Zeus’s Law, also known as the Golden Rule, prizing and prioritizing selflessness, hospitality, and kindness towards others. The most dastardly villains in the movie were those who exhibited self-centeredness, greed, and hostility towards others (particularly those deemed as “foreigners”)… But there were some twists and surprises as it related to the revelation of who might be rightly considered a hero, and who might be rightly considered a villain. Artistic license had to be taken to reinforce this theme, but I thought the liberty was justified and well-executed (I’m keeping it vague in case others are still hoping to see the film without spoilers).
The film was intriguing enough that it made me want to brush up on some of my Greek Mythology… And obviously intriguing enough to write a blog post about it, too! So if you have watched it or choose to watch it soon, let me know. I’m glad for opportunities to talk about The Odyssey, now that I’ve seen it. Even if I don’t expect to see it again.
I don’t know why I don’t visit the Lake Erie Bluffs more often. This absolute gem of Northeast Ohio has been named one of the Twenty-Five Best Hikes to Beaches in the U.S. (#17 to be specific), along with places in Olympic National Park and Glacier National Park and Cape Cod and the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. It’s that good! Here’s what Outside Magazine had to say, in particular, about the Lake Erie Bluffs:
Northeast Ohio isn’t the first place that comes to mind for stunning hikes to beaches, but perhaps it should be. Take Lake Erie Bluffs, a metro-park system one hour outside Cleveland, as proof. Lake Erie Bluffs sits along the Lake Erie shoreline, with a 2.7-mile loop that winds through the woodland park and down to the peaceful and uncrowded Lake Erie shoreline. Even better? The metro park offers primitive camping (reservation required, $20 per night for out-of-county visitors), letting travelers not just hike to the beach, but sleep atop the bluffs overlooking it.
This week I drove for about an hour from Kent, hiked for less than a quarter-mile from the parking lot, and found myself at a shaded clearing with two benches: about 40 feet above the waterline, with an unbroken horizon of greenish-blue water under a blue sky with a scattering of white clouds, calm seas, 72° Fahrenheit, and no other foot traffic in 30 minutes of sitting on one of those benches. One bald eagle did fly by, just as I reached the clearing. And one motor-boat did scud by, towards the end of my time at the clearing. Still, it was amazing how quiet this place was on such a fine summer day.
In addition to the natural beauty of the shoreline, Lake (County) Metroparks has put in a lot of improvements over the last six years: more trails through the beach, the bluffs, the woods, and the meadows… more facilities with comfortable restrooms and reservable spaces… more parking lots… better signage…
And it seems like the improvements are still in process, too! On this week’s visit, I saw indications that they’re planning to build more trails and maybe even add some more campsites. So far, they’ve been able to preserve the rustic, natural beauty of the area — which I like, and hope, and expect that the park managers will continue to maintain and distinguish from other sorts of beach experiences like Fairport Harbor Lakefront Park or Edgewater Beach. I think it’s good for other people in Northeast Ohio to know about the Lake Erie Bluffs, but I also think it’s fine if nobody else pays it much attention and I can have that shaded clearing to myself for future visits.
Yesterday was a good sports day. In the morning, I got about a hundred dollars’ worth of official FIFA World Cup 2026 merchandise for just ten bucks. Two T-shirts, a ball-cap, and a pin. When we were in Dallas in June, I definitely felt tempted to get some of that official gear and show that we had been there for the big event… But I decided to wait.
I’d assumed that I might be able to go to a random TJ Maxx or Home Goods in Northeast Ohio in October and find a shirt connected to the very venue or teams that we saw. But I didn’t even have to go as far as Cuyahoga Falls (which I think is the nearest place with those kinds of shops), and I didn’t even have to wait until October. They had an 85% off sale at the Walgreens in Kent this week. The gear is general: for the whole tournament, not specific venues or teams. But for a couple of dollars, it felt like a worthwhile way to commemorate our family’s World Cup experience.
Then, in the evening, our week on the dark side of the moon worked in my favor, as I learned that not a single person was planning to attend the Bible study that I was prepared to lead — thus freeing me up to go to a minor league baseball game in Akron with my friend Trevor. The Akron RubberDucks (the Cleveland Guardians’ AA affiliate) were hosting the Altoona Curve (the Pittsburgh Pirates’ AA affiliate). Trevor is from Western Pennsylvania, thus a Pittsburgh sports fan, so I wore my Pirates hat in the spirit of camaraderie — but I balanced it by also wearing a Cleveland Cavaliers shirt.
We got to see one of the top prospects in the Pirates’ system hit a double and score the only run of the game, giving Altoona the win: 1-0. But more than the outcome of the game, it was just a gorgeous night to be out at the ballpark. Trevor got us some great last-minute tickets at a great price, and he even knew how to get me a free Cherry Coke at the concession stand, too. We had a good time together.
Then today, I had a feeling that NBA super-star LeBron James might be announcing a decision about which team he plans to play for in the 2026-27 season (and beyond). I had been feeling irrationally confident that he was going to return to Northeast Ohio. For the last day or two, headlines seemed to be hinting like Miami was the frontrunner, not Cleveland. But I thought Cleveland was going to win out because of my previous observations about geographic- and emotional centers of gravity. LeBron is in his early-40s, and that’s a time when a lot of people feel that gravitational pull towards “home” and “family.” LeBron has explicitly stated that he left Cleveland for Miami in 2010 (at the age of 25) to grow up, to accomplish a lot of the things that many young people do when they go to college. And it actually ended up being a four-year course of study that really did accomplish his goals! He followed with another four-year stint in Northeast Ohio and then another stretch of roaming and growing, living in a big, glamorous city. But this time around, I figured, he’s ready to be himself and be with his people, close to his center of gravity. And it just so happens that the Cleveland Cavaliers have a stockpile of elite shooters, with stout defenders on the back-line. It just felt like the right move for him and — to be completely transparent — for me, as a Cavs’ fan.
Then the news broke that LeBron did indeed make his decision. But it wasn’t to come back to Cleveland. It was to play for the Philadelphia 76ers. I was disappointed, but not heartbroken. After reading more of the reporting and LeBron’s statements on social media, I can understand and accept his decision. Landing with the Sixers feels better than if he had landed with this Heat or the Warriors. But not as good as if he had landed with the Cavs. So be it. That’s how sports go. They can bring a lot of disappointment into a person’s life, but they can also bring a lot of lot of fun and social connection.
I am an astronaut on the dark side of the moon. Only a few crewmates are in the spacecraft with me, orbiting a lifeless sphere, cut off from radio communication with the rest of human civilization. I know that it won’t be long before we circle around towards the light waves and the sound waves of all that is familiar. I know I can trust the silence. Even so, for the moment, the darkness and silence are uncomfortable.
This is what it feels like every year, in late-July, in my line of work as a leader for a church with a focus on students from Kent State University. Our staff sometimes talks about a “Summer Scatter,” but this is the week when it feels the most scattered. It’s a sort of calm before the storm. But it really is weird how quiet it gets. Many of my coworkers and congregants are off at “the beach” or “the lake” or “the cabin,” so it’s hard to conduct business as usual. And even when I try to take advantage of the lull to call students and ministry partners who are out of town, I end up leaving a lot of voicemails.
I can get antsy and discouraged in this Week of the Dark Side of the Moon because I over-identify with my activity and achievement. But last week’s spider sickness started me on a better trajectory for dealing with this stretch. And I’ve been reminded that I made it a goal this year to prioritize human being over human doing. So I’m trying sit still in the darkness and radio silence of this dark side of the moon and listen for the things that God wants to teach me in outer space.
