Making

God wants us to be Makers, though all we can do is imitate him. It doesn't matter what we make - Words, Pictures, Plants, Furniture, Ideas. I believe that the fullest expression of humanity is in our clumsy attempts to create, in imitation of our Creator.

Wow It's Been a Long Time....

So I realized that we haven't contributed in quite awhile. So I thought I would try to start this up again and let you guys know what I've been up to. Here are a couple posts of the most recent shoot I did. Let me know what you think!

As I Sail

This machine kills pints:

And so does this one:

Baseball

I've never been that big of a baseball fan. I mean, I've known the mechanics of the game since I was 5. Well, roughly. I mean, for my first season of T-ball I didn't really get that the first base coach wasn't actually on the team, so I'd always throw the ball to him. It makes sense, he was close to the bag, taller, and clearly the best player. Why shouldn't I throw it to him? I played ball for the 8 of the most formative years of my life, and then church softball for the next 6. Though I've never had a batbag of my own, I've never been without a fitting glove. I at least half-heartedly collected baseball cards and pored over my across the street neighbor Kade's Becket for hours looking up the latest prices on my investment. But that only lasted until I discovered Magic Cards.

You see, as much as I was indoctrinated into baseball from an early age, I never really cared so much about the sport. I liked to play it, though I doubt I ever really loved even that. Baseball is where I first learned the fear and humiliation of failure, after all. There's nothing quite as terrifying as walking up to the plate, knowing you aren't a very good hitter and that you probably need glasses but are too embarrassed by that fact to tell your parents, with all your teammates counting on you not to lose the game for them. It's enough to give you a perfectionist/fear-of-failure complex. Hmm. I remember making fast friends with players worse than I, bonded together in our mutual lower class athletic status. Still, at least partly I stood next to them to show the other kids that I was different - King of the Losers, so to speak, and therefore acceptable to the upper crust of raw athletic talent. I remember befriending the best player on the team, the coach's son, Brandon - my first man crush (by which I mean someone I wanted to be). Everything was easy for him. He was good at sports, but because he was so naturally gifted, he had no reason to be a jerk. He was king and didn't need to impress anyone, we all tried to impress him. Kids can be horribly cruel. I remember the temptations (to which I often succumbed) of trying to make yourself look better by attacking someone weirder or goofier looking or more stupid than yourself. And I remember that he never joined in. But of course, he didn't have to. He was already on the top.

The sad thing about that really is that I have, if not considerable, at least above average natural athletic ability. I can throw, I can run, I can make diving catches, and I can hit ok. Looking back now, it's easy to see that what really put me on the bottom was my fear itself. Had I been a little more carefree and less self-conscious I would have likely been a much better player.

I jumped into all this reminiscing only to say that, although I was never a fan of baseball, in that unlike many men of any age I don't have stats upon stats that I could run off in my head, I love it. No I don't know every player, even on my own favorite teams. But there is something about it that transcends statistics, or wins or losses. There is, of course, the glory of all athletic competition. There is something pure about Sport (capital S), something innocent that brings humanity together. But I mean more than that. Baseball itself has a quality that I've never run into in another sport - and its a distinctly American one. Likely that's only because that for about 50 years, every boy in the country played baseball at some point. Maybe soccer will become the new American pastime in years to come, but maybe there's really something about baseball itself. There's the smell of the grass, the dust of the infield, the lazy distractions of right field, and the sharp, nervous anticipation of Short Stop. And there's the crack of a wooden bat that signals an explosion of action.

Americans enjoy those tense situations...we like full count, bases loaded...or even 4th and inches. We like a pause, a chance to reflect before everything is decided. That is, after all, just good storytelling. Spectating baseball has its own, almost unexplainable charms. I only check scores on TV. The distance from the players and the lights of the field kills all the magic for me. But at a game...there's just nothing like it. I actually enjoy Football games more. The roar of the crowd, the press of bodies jumping up and down, 60,000 people all screaming for the same thing, united in passion for a good pass, a breakthrough run. But Baseball is different...and equal in its own lazy right. You can talk during baseball games. You can get up and walk around. You can watch the relief pitchers warm up in the bullpen. It's more than fun. It's like...being at home.

(Sorry for the essay form, kids, I wasn't originally planning to post this but I liked it - W.)

Gaza

This is...well both incredibly frightening and moving. I don't know what to say. They are trapped in that place and thugs are walking the streets. There is no law. There is no future. There is certainly no victory here. This is just the beginning - there will only be more and more bloodshed.

'Only Hamas gunmen walk the deserted streets'

Hazem Balousha, a Gaza-based journalist, gives an eyewitness account of the hardship and danger in a city gripped by chaos

Thursday June 14, 2007
Guardian Unlimited


Hamas supporters celebrate after capturing the headquarters of the Preventative Security Force, which was loyal to the Palestinian president and Fatah leader, Mahmoud Abbas, in Gaza City. Photograph: Abid Katib/Getty Images

Late this afternoon the shooting appeared to die down. It's been going on now for five days - bullets and bombs going off day and night. The most important thing is keeping my niece and nephew occupied. They have heard gunfire at weddings before, so I have told them it's just a big wedding.

They replied that it was such a big wedding that it must be the president's. If only they knew - he has other matters on his mind at the moment.

But worse than the noise of war is the noise of loudspeakers at the mosque. They are saying: "We are Hamas. We are the Izzedine al-Qassam Brigades. We will defeat Fatah. We will liberate Gaza from the collaborators and the traitors." The loudspeaker is never quiet.

We live close to the intelligence headquarters, which has been under attack. The loudspeakers call on the fighters to surrender. If they do, they will survive, if they don't they will be killed.

My apartment is on the fourth floor, but it is too exposed and dangerous so I moved to my parents' place on the ground floor, which has some cover. Since Sunday, several bullets have hit my apartment and the windows have been smashed. When the shooting stops for five or 10 minutes, I try and take a look out the window. The streets are deserted of cars and people. Only the Hamas gunmen are walking the streets. Everyone else is holed up inside.

This chaos did not come as a big surprise, so we have been stocking food. We have no bread, but my mother is trying to make some now. The electricity lasted until last night and there has been none since.

Suddenly there is a new announcement from the mosque. "Hamas have taken the intelligence headquarters." Earlier this week, it was hard to tell the fighters apart. You could see masked men wearing black T-shirts, flak jackets and camouflage trousers. They carried rifles, grenade launchers and mortar tubes. Now it's clear who is who. The Hamas fighters are kneeling in prayer, congratulating each other and greeting onlookers. The Fatah men are being led from the building, hands in the air, some stripped to the waist. It is unclear what will happen to them.

There may be a bit of quiet for a while, but it won't last. Israel will now have new excuses to attack Gaza. With Hamas in control of Gaza, no one will be able to stop Israel. Even though Fatah seem to be doing badly at the moment, they are not finished and this is not the last round.

My eldest brother is close to Hamas and he seems happy with the way things are going. My other brother is more pragmatic, he is concerned about his businesses and the future. Some are saying Gaza will be sealed off now, isolated from the world like a new Taliban state. Personally, I think this is a disaster. I might leave. I have visas for Ireland and the UK, but the border is closed.

Colin Powell, Public Servant

Read the Washington Post story here. As much as I wish that he had stood up to the President on Iraq instead of doing his duty (not that a man like Colin Powell could do any less) I have to say that I admire him tremendously. I certainly hope he is involved in the next administration, democrat or republican. America could only benefit from his sage foreign policy advice - if only the people who matter actually listen.