Seeing through a screen, darkly

A few days ago I was waiting in line at a local grocery store when I noticed an acquaintance standing adjacent to me, also waiting in line. I attempted to strike up a conversation, as it appeared we would be waiting for quite a while, but every time I asked a question or offered a prompt I received a one-word response. Not wishing to be rude, I left her be, as she was rather engrossed in an intense game of Words With Friends on her iPhone and could not be bothered.

But after a minute or so, a signal from my own smartphone alerted me that someone had mentioned me on Twitter.

“Just saw @MatthewProsser at the store, he’s really tall,” the message said, and it was posted by the woman standing right next to me in line.

“You can’t go home again…”

The great advantage of being a political moderate is having the safe vantage point from which to lampoon the excess and foibles of either end of the spectrum. I’m able to lambast the wild-eyed right-wing kooks and fuzzy-headed left-wing flakes with impunity.

Both parties (and their earnest followers) are still only sharpening their blades for the oncoming 2012 presidential election, and no party has had such keen or constant practice as the Republican Party. Indeed, it seems, the presidential candidates for the “Grand Ol’ Party” have been running against our incumbent Commander In Chief since before Beyoncé belted out “At Last” during the inauguration.

Even so, one has to wonder just how well that’s worked out for them so far.

To my daughter on her birthday…

Dear Sophia,

It was on a wintry Oklahoma morning five years ago today that you came bawling into the world.

Today is your fifth birthday.

To my son on his birthday…

Dear Liam,

It was on a snowy and sunny Winter’s day three years ago, overlooking a crystalline Chesapeake Bay, that your mother and I welcomed your gentle spirit into the world.

Today is your third birthday.

On personal accountability and responsibility…

So I’m sitting back in a dentist’s chair, while a good-natured and well-meaning dental hygienist scrapes at my teeth with an assortment of sharp and pointed instruments that send brilliant explosions of painful irritation up my spine through the neural network that was created to instinctively warn me of immediate danger.

As each interminable minute passes, I begin to gradually despise the woman. Internally a great stream of cursing invective rages behind my calm facial expression. Though my mouth remains quite open throughout, I respond to her inquiries with only one-word or brief responses.

Nice guys “Finnish” last?

Imagine a school system that defies every school reform being touted in the United States.

What would such a system look like?

How successful could it be?

What if instead of excellence, the system’s main goal is equity? The families of poor children receive intensive social and financial support from birth on so that they don’t come to school lagging in the skills they need for academic achievement.

At the beginning of the year…

A good friend of mine is a self-described “adrenaline junkie” and loves mountain climbing as well as other types of “extreme” sports. He and his wife celebrated their wedding anniversary a few weeks ago by scaling Guadalupe Peak.

In an email he sent to me upon their return, he described the feeling of reaching the summit after an exhilarating climb.

“When I looked out at the distance all around me, and looked back down the trail from which we’d just climbed, I didn’t feel the uplifting sense of accomplishment I was expecting,” he said. “Rather, I felt humbled [...] it made me feel very small and insignificant in comparison to how vast and permanent everything around me seemed.”

A too short season ends with longing

Like many of you, the days leading up to Christmas day are my favorite of the entire year. The rush and keening torrents of activities, parties, and family get-togethers. As the old carol says: “it’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

At the same time, the first few days following Christmas are my least favorite.

Rosencrantz & Guildenstern and Advent

In late December of 1991 I was invited by an artsy girlfriend of mine to accompany her family to a performance of “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead” at a nearby college.

Though I knew nothing about the play itself, I knew it had to have something to do with Shakespeare…  which was good enough for me.

If you’re unfamiliar with Tom Stoppard‘s brilliant play (or the hilariously-deadpan Gary Oldman/Tim Roth film version) it’s basically a “play within a play” with two minor characters as the main protagonists.

Hamlet by William Shakespeare is knocked on its ear in this play, with the two titular characters bantering about contradictions, destiny, free will, and providence, with plenty of tautologies thrown in for good measure.

Picture a drunken John Calvin arguing with a sober Oscar Wilde and you start to get the idea.

“Infant Holy, Infant Lowly”

In the popular comedy “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby” the titular character prays to an “8-pound 6-ounce newborn infant Jesus,” wearing “golden fleece diapers.”

When challenged on this by his wife, Ricky Bobby snaps back that he prefers to think of Jesus as a baby and so will continue to pray to Him as such.

Although the scene is blasphemous in many ways, it places a finger on how many people like to picture Jesus during the Christmas Season and why He is so popular this time of the year.

Baby Jesus, wrapped in swaddling clothes, is cute and cuddly. He’s not the Prince of Heaven, the Savior of the World, the King of Kings, and the Lion of Judah.

More than anything else: He’s safe, because He’s just a sweet little baby.