Love With A Capital L

A journey towards living an inspired life of love in the modern world

Get Off My Lawn — August 3, 2025

Get Off My Lawn

This post is being written under protest, with great hesitation. You see, I’m going to complain about the younger generation. I’m going to tell you what’s wrong with the “kids today,” and probably wax nostalgic on how it was ”back in my day.” I won’t really like it, and it’ll be very uncomfortable, but I’m going to do it because I hated the new Netflix Train Wreck: Storm Area 51 documentary that much.

As you know, I love the Train Wreck series. The filmmakers dive deeply into these strange, sometimes sad, sometimes hilarious, events that illustrate the insanity of you and me. This is great, for so many reasons, one of which being that we can see our penchant for ambition that is selfish, uncivil and often criminal. We are mostly all like this, any argument is simple arrogance, and it gives us a window into the human condition if we are allowed to descend into a Lord of the Flies-like environment. They are warning signs along our society’s roads.

Now. This last one, Storm Area 51, felt different. A vape shop kiosk employee called “shitposting” (or something equally mindless and depressing) created a social media event called Storm Area 51, where a group of people would, well, storm Area 51, because “they can’t possibly stop us all.” Why? Aliens, I guess. (As if any of us have any doubts and need more proof.) Area 51 is a highly guarded military base. The vape shop guy, called Matty, thought it was funny, but didn’t account for the basic desire of influencers to desperately solicit clicks. (How “shitposting” can not account for the neediness of social media is beyond understanding and the textbook example of a lack of self-awareness.) Many millions of people said they’re going, driving citizens of nearby towns, law enforcement, and the military, into a state of terror. As it turns out, almost nobody showed up, no one caused any problems, and it cost everyone many more millions of dollars.

Now.

The younger generation has an alarming lack of spacial awareness that comes from 2 things: they spend most of their time inside, on devices, populated by 2-dimensional screen names instead of human beings. And a refusal to acknowledge that our actions have consequences in real life. You see, 2-dimensional screen names don’t have mortgages, children to care for, dreams, feelings, or needs of their own. We are the stars of our own story, as a matter of fact, like the Truman Show, we are the only living boys and girls in this construct.

So, when the woman who owns sinks everything she owns (and much more) into a partnership with an absolutely clueless Matty (with a sociopathic inability to empathize with anyone) to prepare for the millions of YouTubers, only to be shafted by the same Matty in the end, he has no idea what he has wrought. He only sees his own tiny circle of one, and he’s deathly afraid that he will have to take a shred of responsibility (gasp!) for his actions.

Whatever. It’s my truth, my reality, my way, and if you don’t like it, Boomer/Karen/etc, I can’t possibly begin to care. I have my next videos to plan & promote.

I think all of the kids involved were genuinely surprised that their actions weren’t just fun, and that a massive cost was attached to an irresponsible prank. That’s not awesome.

I have a friend who is super sweet in person, and as mean online and in texts as you have ever experienced. He’d never say the things he writes. And when the actual human beings on the other end of the screen get their feelings hurt and block him, he can’t understand why, either. What do you mean? There aren’t consequences, everything is a vacuum. You’re just too old to understand.

Maybe that’s true, but I am concerned for my lawn when the new caretakers don’t understand that if they dump weed-killer, it can kill more than weeds.

I think the new age is exciting and wonderful, we are connected in ways that are astounding. I like YouTubers and want them to continue. There is so much fantastic content out in the cyberverse, we could never get to the bottom of the well. They’re funny. Memes are funny and often quite smart. I see things I would never otherwise see. This is an amazing time to be alive.

But, like everything, there is a cost. We just need to know & understand what it is, before we decide if we’ll pay.

(There, thankfully, it’s over. I’ll try not to write such a negative post again. Rainbows and puppy dogs from here on out!!)

Hulk Hogan Instead Of Terry Bollea — July 29, 2025

Hulk Hogan Instead Of Terry Bollea

Theo Huxtable, Hulk Hogan, and Ozzy Osbourne died in the last several days, and so did big parts of my childhood.

I loved the Cosby Show. I probably would now, too, if Bill Cosby, paragon of (what turned out to be) hypocritical virtue, wasn’t so problematic. Malcolm Jamal Warner was the best in a perfect cast of bests. I haven’t thought of him in years, but I still might miss him. I wish his family peace. But I think I miss the show, and my pretend idea of what the show was, what the show represented, even more.

I didn’t much care for Ozzy’s music. Maybe that’s a terrible thing to say, maybe I should think Black Sabbath “changed my life,” like I’m supposed to think about wildly overrated Radiohead. Whatever. Who has time for what we “should like?” “Barbie Girl” sounds & feels better than anything Radiohead created after The Bends.

However, Ozzy is a very important footnote in my life. In my middle school hell years, I thought about suicide often, and wrote about it in some awfully dark poetry. My mom found these poems, and, appropriately frightened, confiscated my cassette tapes. She had, apparently, bought into the common belief of the moment that heavy metal bands were killing our children. I raged against her for taking my Ratt, Quiet Riot, and Ozzy tapes. She was THE WORST. She said she threw them in the garbage, and was willing to suffer my wrath forever. But my thoughts about suicide faded into a depressed rhythm, never too real after 8th grade. I discovered that it wasn’t always going to be that/this dark. As it turns out, she didn’t throw them away, and I got them back eventually. I was happy to listen to Ratt and QR again, but not really Ozzy. I don’t think he caused my depression, it was just probably timing. However, what my mom did remains one of the very finest things anyone has ever done for me. It means something very significant that you would be loved enough that someone will go to any lengths to hear/listen/help you, even to risk your hatred of them. She put my life before her comfort, our relationship, or anything else. She gets an A+ for that. And every time I think of Ozzy, I feel really, really important and loved.

Now. Hulk Hogan. I don’t know how to express to you just how much of my attention and life went to professional wrestling, and Hulk Hogan. And to tell you the truth, for some reason, I don’t want to try.

What I notice right now is that I refer to these 3 by their character names, Hulk Hogan instead of Terry Bollea. That’s telling. They weren’t people, they were someone’s invention, and they are that to me. I don’t know Malcolm Jamal Warner, I only know Theo Huxtable. I know how these fictional characters made me feel, or what they represent. And what they represent is other places and people, real places and people. My mom, sister, girlfriends, and my best friend. The ones who loved me, who I loved, who cared for me, the ones with whom I shared the most valuable moments of my life. I guess that’s why I love art – and artists – so much, for their ability to reach into our real lives through connected imaginations and find commonalities, emotions, events, giving hope that where we are is awesome, but where we’re going can be even better. They asked us to believe in them, in each other, and ourselves.

And I still believe.

Many Weddings — July 21, 2025

Many Weddings

I began this post over a year ago, and it sat in my draft folder until today. Here it is:

“Over 2 weeks some months ago, I had the honor and privilege of officiating 2 very different wedding ceremonies. The first one was at a gorgeous venue, was big and fancy, everything and everyone looking like they had fallen straight out of a magazine. Back in my day, there were magazines, sort of like glossy colorful newspapers. Well, I guess a better example, since newspapers don’t exist anymore, is a physical website you can hold in your hands. The second was very small and intimate, only family, held under a tent in a backyard. They were stunning but taken from a different magazine.

I have done big & fancy before, and sometimes it means time, attention, resources, given to one of the most significant events in 2 people’s lives. They commit their lives to each other and to the God who created them and loves them dearly. Other times it means pomp and superficiality, empty cost, an excuse for a giant party in our honor.

And I have done small & intimate, and sometimes it means stripping down any artifice, until it’s only 2 people and the God who created them and loves them dearly, committing their lives to each other. Others, it’s cheap and easy, simply a box checked with as little disruption as possible.”

I’m sharing it with you today because I’m thinking about weddings. Saturday, 2 of our friends married in a small-ish ceremony that was absolutely gorgeous. The way they looked at each other, gave themselves to each other, it was lovely and affirmed all of our hope in an institution that is increasingly disposable. At dinner, my son finished his “champagne” before the toast, and we learned that toasting with anything other than champagne (real or otherwise) is bad luck. I don’t know if the bad luck is for the couple or the one toasting with a substitute (the superstition rings of a marketers invention, though, right?), but I said, “They don’t need our luck. They’ll be fine.”

I suppose everyone says that, but in this case, I feel that it is comfortably true.

Anyway, like I said, I get to officiate lots of weddings. This wasn’t mine to perform, I just sat, empty handed, and soaked in their love & commitment. But I’ve seen so many, with so many people, so many wonderful stories, getting married for very good (and not so very good) reasons. The earlier draft post was, actually, more like 3 or 4 years ago, and I remember the 2 like they happened this morning.

I love people in love, Jesus, and His gift of marriage. Many of us try to find any excuse to miss weddings and funerals, but I find them inspiring, sometimes the only spaces where we can find authenticity in a fake world. But like everything else, other times that authenticity is grossly absent. You can find pretense in gigantic weddings just as well as in living room weddings. And you can also find the searing image-making that makes board rooms so insufferable at the altar.

But I like to think that it’s less likely.

People dress in all sorts of ways, too. I can’t tell if it’s image-making to dress in a sharply tailored suit or in a sleeveless tee & jeans. Probably both. Each stands out in their own way, at times. I am an old-fashioned man, in many ways, so I happen to believe that propriety is dictated by the situation. Using this definition, anything that wrestles attention away from the bride (and, to a lesser extent, the groom) is wildly inappropriate. Officiants are often inappropriate, as are the family members who can’t help but to argue and make a mess all over someone else’s big day.

And now I’m thinking of a wedding I did about 2 years ago for a young couple – one I’d place in my top 5 ever. As the first guests began to arrive, I noticed a bizarre steampunk aesthetic that I initially believed was a ridiculous costume. (Ridiculous not because it was steampunk, which is super-interesting and cool, but because it felt like an obvious attention grab.) But then, more and more steampunks filled the space, and the atmosphere took on a distinct, fascinating, connected vibe that is impossible to manufacture. They were a big, extended family who shared actual, lived-in, lives. It was so intentional, everyone was perfectly dressed, I imagined they had meticulously planned their outfits.

The reason it’s in my top 5 is the reason we love anything: Because the people involved are present and hopeful, they are a community of different people who all love this couple and love & celebrate each other, in their lives. Big, small, well-planned, years in advance, or elopements, all weddings create new worlds, but no matter what they look like, it’s the heart behind them that decide if they’re worlds actually worth creating.

Nostalgia, pt II — July 16, 2025

Nostalgia, pt II

I’m 2 episodes deep into Death And Other Details on Hulu right now. The Angel and I watched the George Clooney-Julia Roberts vehicle Ticket To Paradise last week, and The Devil Wears Prada this week. I had not seen either of them, even though I had wanted to see The Devil Wears Prada since it was in the theater. Recently finishing the 9 seasons of Seinfeld, my son and I began to watch Arrested Development.

That’s the equivalent of a photo dump on Instagram. This is what I’ve watched, and there isn’t much to say about any of them. I loved the Clooney-Roberts romcom, probably not as much as Prada, but there are lots and lots of worse ways to pass an evening with your special lady. We laugh out loud at Arrested Development often. Death And Other Details feels like something I’ll continue to really like. It fills a void left from The Residence (which was awesome).

I’m listening to many, many songs. The modern age is still a huge adjustment. I’ve always been an album guy, and now there aren’t too many albums, just singles, and the medium doesn’t really support/encourage album listening. Vinyl was great for that. You would put a record on and listen to an entire side, it was never background music. It was intentional and rewarding. Cassettes were a product of the time – the music was pretty disposable and hit-and-miss. You’d fast forward the garbage, rewind for the singles. CDs were both, easy enough to hear one song over and over, but versatile enough for laying down in bed with the liner notes and letting the whole thing play.

As I write, my ages old iPod is playing the first 6 or so albums from Alkaline Trio. It’s purposeful background music. I miss a few songs here and there, but when I get up & go to the kitchen for a drink or the bathroom, I sing every word.

Very little is intentional, as far as the art I consume, right about now. I haven’t even listened to the new Sarah McLachlan song more than once or twice. Maybe I like it, maybe I don’t, who knows after 2 listens? I mean, I know I like it (after all, it is Sarah McLachlan), but do I really love it? Do I really love anything anymore?

I think I saw Point Break in the theater 25 times, and another 200 times on VHS. I know all the lines and subtleties. Yes, I was in high school and didn’t have a job or a wife & kids, but that was a part of me, a part of culture, I quite liked. Listening along to the new album, reading the lyrics, was great. I felt like I knew the artists, why they created the stuff that meant so much to me.

Now, I listen to a lot of EMELINE. I have no idea why it’s all capitalized, don’t even know if it’s a band (I think it’s just one woman, but I wouldn’t bet on it). Maybe she has a long career behind her, but I don’t know. I could find out easily, but… Well, just but. I don’t know if she writes these songs herself, with a team, or not at all! I suppose I could follow her on social media and know everything she wants me to know, blur the lines between us, and probably buy the clothes she wears in her posts.

This might be an age thing, I am a thousand years old, but aging requires a certain amount of nostalgia. Everything was better when I was young, right? It sure was, even when it wasn’t. Maybe not every song in the 90’s was amazing, but truth honestly doesn’t play too much of a role in my memories. It’s the feeling, maybe it’s the simplicity that I miss. Maybe we’ve seen too much to be so naive and innocent.

I do know nothing about Diff’rent Strokes or Blood Sugar Sex Magik compares to the Angel, and I wouldn’t go back there for all the money in the world. Maybe I just wish I had been more intentional about holding on to some things, instead of leaving them all so far behind. Or maybe I never had a choice at all.

What a strange post this has turned out to be. I don’t know what the point is, or why I’m writing. I’ll have to make dinner soon. It’ll be spaghetti in a big pot, and we’ll each eat when we get time.

You know, there is a thing called a liturgical calendar, with seasons like Advent and Lent, separated by Ordinary Time. This post is like that, Ordinary Time. Maybe it’s a rebellion against that notion at all, the notion that any time is Ordinary. Maybe we reclaim the Ordinary when we notice it’s happening as it’s happening, and acknowledge it’s tremendous value.

Sprawling — July 10, 2025

Sprawling

The hosting site wants to know when I go to bed and when I wake up, and that seems kind of personal, doesn’t it? Early. I go to bed and wake up early. Anyway.

I’m reading a book called A Beautifully Foolish Endeavor, which is the sequel to An Absolutely Remarkable Thing, both written by Hank Green. I bought the first one on vacation last year, but only read it a few weeks ago, on this year’s beach trip. It looked & sounded good, but (and I recognize this is going to sound ridiculous) Hank Green is the author of very-popular young adult novels, the most famous, well known being The Fault In Our Stars, and I didn’t really want to read young adult fiction. See, ridiculous, right? Even more so when you find out…

I’ll tell you what I found out, but first let me tell you that, once I started Absolutely Remarkable Thing, I could not put it down. It’s so great. And the moment I finished it, on a quick Google search, I discovered there was a sequel and ordered it that second. I also discovered that JOHN Green is the young adult author who wrote Fault In Our Stars! HANK Green is his brother!!! I waited a year on a faulty conclusion of a wildly silly artificial obstacle.

Who cares if it was a young adult book??? Sheesh. Nobody. And if there is such a person, can you imagine the depressing lack of interest or engagement in his/her own life? Judgment is so dumb and boring.

The books are awesome, assuming this Endeavor sticks the ending. Even if it doesn’t, the last 100 pages can’t undo the brilliance of the previous 600. If I’d meet this Hank Green, I’d tell him. Maybe I’ll direct message him or something. Maybe I should also apologize to his brother for my foolish hang-up.

The books are about fame, social media, virtual reality, aliens, progress & scientific discovery, but mostly they’re about human connection and relationships. The books make me think of that ‘Bowling Alone’ idea that we explored months ago – more people bowl but less are in leagues. More of us bowl alone. At this particular part of the book, a new totally immersive virtual program has so thoroughly captured humanity, the economy is crashing because the businesses are suffering, also the churches (let’s not be so cynical for a little, and differentiate business from church) and parks. People are staying home, plugged into their headsets.

I know the internet is wonderful, full of promise and beauty. But there is a cost. There is a cost to everything. The only question is what we’re willing to pay. I think the scariest part of this is when we no longer see that question – either we don’t think we have a choice or we are so blind the avalanche of consequences. I can use my Amazon Music, and looove that they know me as well as they do. The mixes they choose for me are always right on. I get all sorts of new, cool songs that I would not otherwise find. But how do they know me so well? Because I’ve given my shopping history, search bar, emails, texts, instagram posts, these blogs, locations, social security and credit card numbers, mother’s maiden name, “my list” on Netflix, and birthdate in exchange. How could they not know me so well? And is it worth it for the Discovery Mix?

I guess it is, but the books ask, what if they (whoever ‘they’ are) want more and more? Will I know? Will I be able to say no?

A comic book villain named Mephisto was recently introduced in the MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe), who is based on the devil or Mephistopheles from “Faust.” He offers what a person wants the most in exchange for their soul. They almost never know he’s a villain. We might not even need a demon to tempt us, we might be only too willing to give our soul away to the next shiny technology. We might not be able to tell if it’s a villain, either.

Train Wrecks — July 7, 2025

Train Wrecks

Netflix has a series called Trainwreck, where it details certain cultural, um, train wrecks. The first one I remember seeing was Woodstock ‘99. It was fascinating, a nearly perfect documentary, and must have been well received, as it became a series. Woodstock ‘99 was a chimaera of greed, poor planning, ego – I could continue, but I guess it was just a chimaera of the lowest human experience. It was an account of our tendency to sink to Lord of the Flies (mis)behavior, if only given the opportunity.

I guess all of these Train Wrecks follow that same formula.

The Cult of American Apparel and the unfortunately named Poop Cruise are the newest additions.

Poop Cruise is exactly what it sounds like. A cruise ship set sail, with as many warnings as passengers, and once at sea, the electrical system burned up and left the floating skyscraper dead in the water. Apparently, the toilets on a cruise ship are somehow tied into the electricity, so when the engines & lights went out, so did the toilets. After a day or 2, the floors were covered in raw sewage. The doc is an hour long account of manufactured suffering. Carnival escaped catastrophic financial punishment by absolving itself from anything at all in the contract everyone signed. Some kind of utterly shocking “we are not responsible for safe passage, clean, working facilities or the food, in any way” rider that either no one read or believed.

American Apparel was a clothing company that was allegedly enormous in the mid-2000’s. I say ‘allegedly’ because I had no idea it existed. This is unusual, as I make it my business to know what’s going on in the popular culture. The ads were soft-core porn, the clothes were unremarkable, and the CEO Dov Charney is a psychopathic monster who assaulted (emotionally, verbally, sexually) everyone who happened to cross his path. He’s not a nice person, was fired after a mountain of horrific lawsuits piled up against him, and today works for Kanye West. That sounds about right.

Money is the American god, and business is our religion. If it pays, we’re in. We’ll excuse any, and all, means to those ends. Travis Scott’s AstroWorld disaster is the subject of another Train Wreck. People died at this concert, with almost no accountability. Apparently, much like the famous Spiderman meme where several Spider-men are pointing at each other, no one was in charge, no one was to blame. Safety was no one’s job. There wasn’t an adult in the room. And when it came time to get some answers, the only answer was cash, and as it turns out, that’s good enough for us. Oh well, it’s just human lives.

The shows are pretty depressing, to be honest. Mirrors often are. Is this really who we are? I have to believe we are not, even in the face of conflicting evidence, stories replayed on a loop, just with a different company logo and new shell game.

If learning about our history is the way to assure we don’t repeat it (and that’s what we’re always told, right? Those who don’t learn about history are doomed to repeat it, right? Maybe it’s true, I’ll take your word for it), then these Train Wrecks are public services. I’m imagining conference rooms full of CEO’s watching them, weeping and tearing their clothes, immediately overhauling their policy manuals, creating ethical, humane paragons of virtue. Probably, the reason we haven’t noticed this revolution is because it takes a while for the effects to reach the consumer. It should be any moment, now…

Graduation Is Not Like Andor — June 2, 2025

Graduation Is Not Like Andor

My youngest son’s high school graduation happened last Friday, and as it turned out, after much reflection, it was not like Andor at all.

This is what I wrote in last week’s post: The Angel & I have 2 sons, and the youngest one graduates from high school Friday. I’ll write about that next week, when it has passed and I have some sort of handle on my overflowing emotions. I also can’t seem to shake the notion that the 2nd season of Andor will help me with that handle. Who knows?

Andor was excellent, as good as anyone had any right to expect, as good as Star Wars can be, as good as any work of science fiction has ever been. The characters are awesome, well-written and complex, the story is layered, full of suspense, twists and turns. Maybe that’s like graduation. The students are complex and awesome. The story of their childhood & adolescence has been layered, full of suspense, ups, downs, surprises, heartbreak, elation, disappointment.

What I maybe didn’t like about Andor is pretty common in most modern storytelling. There aren’t exactly good guys & bad guys, just shades of gray. Sauron was baaaaad. Frodo, Aragorn, Gandalf were good. Superman was good, Lex Luther was bad. Tony Stark is good, most of the time, kind of, but flawed and quite capable of bad.

There’s a scene in Andor, where Cassian Andor is rescuing Mon Mothma from the senate floor, and he shoots & kills several people. He does the same in Rogue One – to a person on the same side of the rebellion!!!

So, maybe I don’t like that, but I recognize that it is a far more accurate picture of war and human beings. No one is all good, all the time, no one is all bad, all the time. The white hats aren’t as pure as we’d like to believe, just as the villains aren’t as irredeemable as lazy intellectual convenience might suggest. The only real difference between sides in war is where you stand. These new creators aren’t as concerned with my desire (sometimes) for easy delineation. They write for realism, which sounds ridiculous to say in a discussion of a space opera. And sometimes I like that, too.

I’m just like everyone else, complex and often inconsistent. Maybe this stood out because, as far as I can tell, the show was primarily about this blurriness between the heroes and villains. Luther Rael was a terrific character, but can not be considered a positive, ethical role model, under any definition, yet was the slimy uncle of the beginnings of the rebellion. It wasn’t just a part of the story, it was the story.

The graduates, including my son, are becoming adults, and I have been witness to the great beauty and the sickening lows of humanity. In that way, they’re just like Andor. From where I stand, my boy is the hero, but I’m not so naive to think that he hasn’t been callous and cutting along the way. Maybe he’s said things he’s not proud of, done things he’d change if given the opportunity.

But what’s not like Andor is that this duality is NOT the story. The story is one of transcending that moral confusion to bring real positive change in the world around them. It is a detail that adds to the narrative but is not the narrative. The characters in Andor accept the fact that their methods are the same as their enemy’s methods, with no discernible desire for anything else. They do what they have to do, the ends justify the means.

And maybe they do. Maybe the Death Star has to be destroyed, and however we do it, whatever compromise we make, is worth it.

I happen to have been lucky enough to know these kids who walked across the stage on Friday, and I still see/feel the wide-eyed, wild-eyed hope of youth. They have not had their imaginations beaten out of them by life, just yet. They seem to know the Death Star needs to be destroyed, but have not acquiesced to the notion that we have to become our enemy to defeat it. They’re imperfect, and they are aware of the imperfection, but they’re beautiful in those cracks and flaws.

I believe them, I admire their souls, I want them to win. I think my son is Luke Skywalker – but not the Luke Skywalker caricature of the original trilogy that all fanboys defend, by any means necessary. He’s more like the Luke Skywalker of The Last Jedi. My boy is authentic and funny, wonderful and messy. He can fail, but will ultimately show up, stand up, and fight for you & me until he has nothing left. He’s capable of everything, he’s all that a Jedi Knight should be. Of course, he’s not perfect, but he’s certainly one of the good guys, and in his (and his classmates) hands, the universe will be alright in the end.

Marrying Juan Soto — May 20, 2025

Marrying Juan Soto

Juan Soto is an outfielder for the New York Mets. According to his stats – his career batting average is .283, he finished 3rd in MVP voting once, this year, he’s hitting under .250 – he’s an average Major League Baseball player. But his contract says different. The Mets signed him in the offseason for all the years and all the money. So, according to his bank account, he’s the greatest to ever play the game.

Yesterday, he lined a ball off of the fence, stood in the box smiling it, and loafed into first with a 350 ft single. When reporters asked if he thought that was a problem, he quickly responded, “No.” Now, the Mets manager is going to “talk to” him about his lack of effort.

There is a lot about that paragraph that is distasteful, but the one that stands out is that the team will “talk to” him. For what? For being Juan Soto. By most accounts, he’s not exactly a high character guy, he’s not winning Man of the Year awards anytime soon, he’s his own biggest fan. If you believe they’ll actually talk to and/or discipline him for his actions and attitude (and that is a very big IF – it’s likely just something that upper management thinks is a good thing to say, condescending to us, as if we’ll scoop up whatever they toss our way, no matter how silly and nonsensical it is), my question is why?

I have the honor of officiating many weddings every year. Some feel like they’ll last forever, and some don’t. Some men will be great husbands, but other boys shouldn’t be getting married at all. I also do a fair amount of pre- and post-marital counseling (mostly listening and allowing each the space to be heard by the other), and what I find in stressful situations is usually pretty similar.

They marry Juan Soto, and then, when Juan Soto does Juan Soto things, behaves like Juan Soto always has, they appear to be shocked and dismayed. But they married Juan Soto. Do they expect him to be Derek Jeter or Nolan Ryan after the wedding day?

It’s very strange. Let’s say girl X is having an affair with Juan Soto, who is dating/engaged/married to girl Y. Juan Soto ends up probably being found out by Y (because Juan Soto’s don’t usually turn on a dime for less), and leaves Y to be with X. She finally gets to have him to herself, to build a life together. He’ll change, he loves her, whatever. Then, when he is discovered to be having a new affair with girl Z, X is absolutely shocked! How could he do this to me?!!

If you marry Juan Soto and he doesn’t have a job, has never had a job, and you are the one who pays for everything, maybe getting married expecting him to be a different person, one who works and pays, might not be the best idea. Maybe you still want to marry him, who am I to judge? You can marry who you want, it’s the expectation that’s the problem. The Mets hired a guy who turns doubles and triples into singles, and is incredibly surly about the suggestion that he might have any responsibility to his team to hustle out an extra base. After marrying him and giving him the GDP of most countries, why would they dream they’d end up with Mike Trout?

Why would girl X think Juan Soto would be faithful to her, when he’s not evidenced faithfulness as a characteristic he values too much? She wouldn’t. And neither would the Mets. That’s why it’s sort of offensive to pretend to mind, 50 games into the first season of the marriage.

Maybe he’ll change, hopefully he will, but isn’t it a little unfair to him to assume he will, and hold it against him if he doesn’t? He’s Juan Soto, and being Juan Soto got him 3/4 of a billion dollars, or the spouse, or the job, or or or.

But aren’t we made to grow and mature, to transform? Yes, of course, but we choose not to lean into everything we’re made for all the time, for a lot of reasons, some much less than 3/4 of a billion reasons. And that’s why we should be very careful who we marry.

People — May 12, 2025

People

I finished a book last week, called Mastering Fear, by Dr Robert Maurer. It’s probably the 10th time I’ve read it, and it never fails to change me in some pretty significant ways. One of the main ideas is to emphasize that, in stressful, anxious, difficult situation, we are created, hard-wired to find others. The best example is when a child is scared, (in healthy environments) they climb into their parents bed for comfort. As we grow, that positive impulse is conditioned out of us. We believe we are on our own, we hold up independence as THE primary characteristic to success, not to mention the myth of the self-made anything.

Friday, my boys and I all knocked off of work/school and went to the theater to watch the Thunderbolts*. It’s the latest offering from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and the asterisk is a totally intentional plot point that I won’t spoil for you.

The MCU has followed the law of diminishing returns since Endgame, this multiverse business is boring and hollow, an excuse for cheap gimmicks, and has effectively eliminated consequence. Whatever. It’s fine. Disappointing, but fine. I see the movies when I do, but they are no longer vital to me, like The Winter Soldier or Infinity War was. (I have heard a “reboot” is coming to rescue us all from this nonsense, and it is desperately needed. Fingers crossed.)

Thunderbolts* is an exception, it’s fantastic, really great. At their best, superhero films are about big, real life issues, just in a science fiction context. When critics bemoan the explosions and unrealistic elements, as if those bells & whistles are the only reason for their existence, they have missed everything authentic and important and meaningful.

Yes, I recognize that I just called these movies ‘important,’ and they can be. I am not sorry. This is one of those times. Thunderbolts* is the modern human experience laid out before us. It’s super soldiers, enhanced superhumans, and genetic freaks. It’s also about mental illness, isolation, loneliness & crushing depression. Mostly about those.

And, like Maurer’s book, the solution is a team of super-people. Those who show up to hold our hands and help us lift giant pieces of falling skyscraper, to listen, and to save cities. (Of course, that is somewhat simplistic – a buddy isn’t a cure for mental illness, but a buddy always helps. Always. Someone who cares, someone to turn to, to climb into bed alongside of when we’re scared, and sometimes someone who will remind us that pharmaceuticals aren’t a flashing neon sign of weakness or faithlessness or anything else other than a crutch for an injury that may or may not be temporary. Depression and mental illness are complicated. They are also nothing to go through alone.)

These people in our lives are complicated, too. They can be full of contradictions and drive us crazy. The more we allow them in, the more power we give to wound us deeply. They can annoy. They can just be the worst. And they are also the ones who make this life so wonderful.

We don’t save worlds from “the Void” alone, and we don’t build beautiful lives alone, either.

New Ways — May 5, 2025

New Ways

Before we dive in, I wrote a post called Characters a few weeks ago, and received this super-sweet comment from a reader named pealsabdallah: “beautiful! AI-Powered Stethoscope Detects Heart Disease Early 2025 alluring.” Thank you, pealsabdallah, I think I’ll check out this AI-powered stethoscope that is so alluring, for sure.

I’ve heard that many accounts buy “followers” to boost their numbers, thus making them appear more attractive to advertisers. Maybe I’ll do that, too, if all of these pseudo-accounts are as kind as pealsabdallah.

I knew almost nothing about Twitter before last weekend, when I watched a documentary (on Max) called “Breaking The Bird.” It was very good, like the best soap operas. Founders were fired through back room shenanigans, only to be fired themselves through back room shenenigans, oodles of money was made & lost, everybody received death threats, and it all finally ended (as many things do) with Elon Musk.

I have a Twitter account, but never made one tweet. I was only a tourist. I’m mostly a tourist on Instagram, too. Now, though, I do wish I had engaged. It seemed to be a very interesting experiment, vital and alive. Maybe it failed. Whether it failed is hard to define. As Vision said to Ultron, (referring to humanity itself) “a thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts.”

Now Twitter is X and, sadly, nobody cares anymore. I missed the window.

One of the creators, Jack Dorsey, said, “I wanted to show the world a new way to see itself.” That quote is the primary reason I wish I had participated in Twitter. (I think that’s what we’re all doing, every day, with any work of art. I think it’s what the Bible does. It’s definitely what Jesus did.) It speaks to an extraordinary naïveté that I find incredibly refreshing and commendable, worthy of it’s inclusion in the history books.

This naïveté spurred these 3 to build a space where people could connect and discover themselves and their environment, without a trace of awareness that we can’t be trusted at all. If there is a thing, we will ruin it. Everybody knows that. Except for these 3, apparently. How could they have guessed that politicians would use their platform to espouse the most extremely nasty, venomous lies? Easy. A better question is, how could they not???

Is it reasonable to think killers would post videos of themselves killing? Of course. Or to believe people full of hate would direct that hate to ooze all over this platform? Obviously.

Now. I do have a new question, one that’s far more interesting to me. (Though, admittedly, that’s not that big of a deal. People being awful and lying their faces off is one of the least interesting things going.)

But first, do you remember Jeff Goldblum’s character in Jurassic Park, who said, “Yeah, yeah, but your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could that they didn’t stop to think if they should.”

Do they have to think about if they should, based on our propensity for evil? Does everything have to be considered through the filter of the lowest common denominator? If I invent a hammer to build, is it my responsibility to realize that we’d hit each other with it? Was it up to the Twitter founders to plan for the worst of our behavior? Isn’t it enough to make something beautiful, out of pure motives? Maybe not, but then that would mean nothing new would ever happen. No one would paint or sing or write. We ruin everything…does that mean we shouldn’t have anything??

And, with that kind of pessimism (realism?), where is the hope for us? Who will call us up? Into what? Can we evolve into better versions of ourselves?

And then I think of Oppenheimer’s bomb. Maybe it is true, maybe we shouldn’t have anything.