It all seemed typical but it probably wasn't. Chris was assessed at his brothers' school for next fall. The evaluator finished quickly with him, confident that he knew everything he needed to know for first grade, "and probably much more."

Next, at Tim's tennis lesson in Manasquan, I was shocked to see his usual fieldhouse partially demo'd for reconstruction. It took extra time to walk him to another fieldhouse for his lesson.

Then we headed up the Parkway. The road was familiar but different. It felt counterintuitive to be heading north late on a Friday afternoon when everyone else seemed to be coming "down the shore" for a (mostly) sunny weekend. I zoomed through the highspeed EZ-Pass lane at the Asbury Park tolls and took the Express lanes. We stopped at the Cheesequake rest area to eat dinner at Burger King. Kenny spotted a souvenir coin press with images of the Twin Towers. He said:

"That must be old!"

and I found myself saying, "Not very old."

It wasn't a huge place but I wanted them to recognize that we weren't in Kansas anymore. This is "big city" to them. So Chris wasn't allowed into the rest room with Kenny. In fact, I thought twice about Kenny, especially when I heard him describe the graffiti on the walls. I got an uncomfortable feeling when a man dressed as a janitor patted Ella on the top of the head when we passed him. I realize that there are cultural differences regarding young children and girls in public but, as I say, a stranger touching her even kindly made me uneasy.

We continued up the Parkway and I warned them about the Driscoll Bridge. I used to be nervous going over it: ten lanes of terror. Well, it's larger than ten lanes across now - Wiki says 15 lanes and I would agree - but it's segmented real nice with lane barriers so there isn't more than five lanes in a bunch. I guess construction was completed a year ago. This video doesn't quite capture the finished experience. After passing the intersection with the Turnpike, it occurred to me that I hadn't been up this way since the morning of the funeral.

The Relay for Life was at one of the many public schools in town.



We found parking in the school lot, met up with our "team" - family and friends - and my kids played on the school playground for an hour before Jeff showed up with Tim. The Relay - which is a body-breaking 12 hr. event - kicked off an hour late. Enthusiasm ran high for several hours until darkness fell. I read the book I had brought with me while Jeff and the kids took turns walking the course with family and friends. We weren't official team members but the course seemed open to anyone.

The lights were dimmed for the luminaria ceremony around 9pm. I didn't realize that the lights would dim and I needed to know where my children were. Jeff had Ella in his arms and Chris ran to find me. Tim was on the playground and Kenny had stumbled into one of the many tents our team had propped up.

I took this video of Chris after the luminaria ceremony when the flood lights were up again. You can probably see how tired he is. And it was cold. We left shortly after this, just after 10pm:

I'd rather stopped listening because, right off the bat, the homily characterized Jesus' prayer in John 17 as "a stream of consciousness" uttered by a man who "wasn't sure how things were going to play out."

My ears perked up, however, at the description of a woman who went through a religious studies program but, during a visit home, had a blowup with her mom. The older brother was present and noted the inconsistency between what the woman likely knew and how she behaved:

"'You can't even recognize a cup of consecrated chicken soup!'"

And yeah, sure, that's me. I know that.

But it's drawn from literature!

This afternoon I attended a luncheon fundraiser for ovarian cancer awareness at the behest of a friend with the disease and members of her church. I opted to attend their morning worship service so that we could all drive over together afterwards.

Jeff loaned me his car with the satellite radio so I picked up the 10:15 service from St. Patrick's, about 25 minutes into it. Ap. Dolan was thanking God during the prayers of the faithful that the NYPD had foiled the Times Square bomb plot yesterday. I appreciated his clear speaking voice and listened about twenty minutes until communion began. Then I scanned to a Christian praise music station and turned the volume low.

I arrived late to the worship service only to learn that the teens had taken over the church for the weekend. Therefore, there were no ushers to seat me at an opportune time; I could take a seat immediately. Ah, informality!

The teen praise band was finishing their set of these numbers: "I Wanna See," "Heart of Worship," "Enter This Temple," "Healer," "I Can Only Imagine." Perhaps providentially, I arrived in time to hear - and participate in singing - only the last song. There was a video testimony by a parishioner who had accepted Christ while on a mission trip last summer. Then two young parishioners walked up front and gave another testimony to the congregation about chastity. I wondered how the older folks felt about so much sex talk at church. The offering was taken up while an original song was performed, "Dying to Live." And a boy went forward and read the Scripture for the day, Hebrews 12:1-2. And then the evangelist was introduced by the youth pastor.

They had met last summer while on the mission trip. The message is entitled "Leaving a Lasting Legacy" (sermon with intro from youth pastor) and grew out of the evangelist's close brush with death. Both of his parents are deaf and he eventually met the man who evangelized them because the deaf community is so close-knit. Maybe having a sensitivity to nonverbal cues, the speaker seemed adept at tailoring his message to his audience.

He started by saying, "Jesus can balance your checkbook" but then, maybe noticing that some people bristled at that idea, changed his tone and even put down wealth & prosperity preaching. I felt that he was watching reactions, especially mine since I have a face like an open book. I'm an easy read. But I was relaxed - let my guard down - as this isn't my church. So even if he comes back, it's nothing to me. But I do worry about the good people there: they all seemed taken in by him who may be a charlatan. It's so difficult to judge in that line of work. We closed with "All Who Are Thirsty." I knew none of the songs because this was teen praise music, not middle-agers's music.

I ended up giving two people a ride over to the hotel that was hosting the luncheon. And I was glad that the radio was low but set to a pleasant station when I turned on the car. We talked about the freshness of the service and I said that most people don't experience such a thing until they get to college. But here they have it, right in high school.

Someone made up T-shirts for everyone in our group of ten with a verse from Scripture printed on the back. I don't think I've ever worn Scripture before, not even on jewelry. I wasn't self-conscious - I'm rather self-forgetful, actually. But I could hear people reading it off our backs in mumbled tones as we walked by.

After we took our seats in the ballroom, the mayor of the town opened us all with a word of prayer "to the Lord." The ladies at my table murmured with giddiness at how unexpected that was. In an effort to calm them down, I pointed out that "Lord" is a rather generic title. However, I was privately rejoicing at his Italian name.

When the keynote began, I noticed a lady at our table draw out a Bible and a notebook and decided she was working on an evening Bible study presentation. So that gave me permission to draw out my Bible and read Proverbs. The keynote was interesting but I really had no inclination to be there. Ladies at our table were wondering after the keynote whether the speaker was a Christian because she mentioned God. I pointed out that she also mentioned matzos.

One of them who has known me a long time overheard that I had been at their church that morning and she sidled up to me later to ask me discreetly what I was doing there. I told her that I just thought it would be nice to worship with everyone before sitting down to lunch together. As it turned out, no one needed a ride back so I was able to leave immediately afterwards.

I'm in Plainsboro on Thursday mornings at a Bible study after which I have some free time before I must pick up the kids at school.

For the past few years there has been massive construction across the street of a village center. I watched the progress with mild interest until I became aware that one of the new buildings would be a public library. My schedule this year, with Ella in school on the two days a week that I'm in Plainsboro, has included some library time but not as much as I'd originally hoped or planned.

Earlier in the week, a lady in the afternoon Great Adventure study (the Timeline) at QoM told me the new library is open. I googled it and discovered the grand opening was the 10th. Well, the older boys had a half day last Thursday so even if I had known, I could have made only one of two.

I was terribly late for the Exodus Bible study this morning, like 30 minutes. That's 30 minutes on top of the 30 minutes that I'm normally late for dropping off my kids at school. An hour late, then, altogether, and I missed the entire homework review. Turnout was surprisingly low. IOW, I had a few choices on where to sit. Usually I have trouble getting a seat.

So after the second hour which is all video lecture, I drove over to QoM for a rosary in the sanctuary for some people I'm concerned about. And then, if the concrete slabs had been laid in the dug-out sidewalk, I could have walked over to the library from the church parking lot. It's really close.

But I drove in my car anyway because it probably isn't right to leave it in the parking lot of one place while I'm at another place. Another world, really. I need to bring my camera next time because it's quite appealing.

I'm aware these village centers are cropping up across the state and the country. I had heard this report (or one like it) on NPR. The last time I visited Columbus (CB) a couple of years ago, the relatives took us to Polaris. And even then, before the economy had tanked, I wondered how such an enterprise could stay afloat. But cars were backed up for miles trying to get into the place.

I took a city planning course as an undergraduate and I remember only the case studies of how not to layout a city. Generally the notion at the time was that cities more or less "just happened." We were not to repeat the perceived errors of Levittown. I'm still fairly opposed to the village center concept. There's supposed to be one going up in Manalapan. The sign heralding the project has been posted for years but only tonight did I notice that someone had spray painted a big "F-ck You" across the board. We don't generally have a problem with graffiti or profanity.


Anyway, the library is awesome. I can visit it on Thursdays for about the next month or so. Well, wait, strike that because there's Mother Day things at school next Thursday, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. But every Thursday after that!

Our seats were a little left (stage right) of where they'd been the previous two times but same level, in the front row.

Taken a bit by the reality, I said to Jeff, "Imagine so many Beatles fans together in one hall!" He was willing to fain being a fan for me. The place was packed up higher than I'd ever seen. Not as many children as on other occasions. Better behaved than the Zeppelin audience but still not as refined as the Floyd fans who were overwhelmingly male, if that means anything.

For each number I recalled whatever backstory I happened to have heard or read about the song over the years. The first being "Back In the U.S.S.R" in mocking imitation of The Beach Boys. "Dear Prudence" was so wonderful I didn't even think of Mia Farrow's sister. "Glass Onion" started strong and good but, maybe like Lennon live?, the singer miffed the verse that mentions the fool on the hill. The difference is that on the album (and CD, I suppose), the songs run one into the next. I was content to let them carry on without pausing for applause. But, well, of course, the rest of the audience was determined to applaud. And it soon became clear that the band frankly needed a little breather.

Whenever I have listened to the album, I'm serious about it, first of all. But I discovered tonight that this is a fun album! Playful. And that is consistent with what I've heard, that songs had been written for their children, like "Good Night." I got the idea that nothing like this could be made today. Wiki says the album was written in India. The personal directions that they are each taking with their music - they are already breaking up - cannot be ignored in this album. Clapton's guitar sound is very distinguishable on "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." Do listeners mistake it for Harrison? "Happiness is a Warm Gun," coming as it does after "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," struck me as pure ego: a boasting Lennon says, "Look what I can do! I can do this and it will sell! Listening, so deeply intent on their voices and words that I've somehow missed the music? Hard to believe but it's true. This concert of not-quite-identical voices helped me hear the music, especially the guitars and drums, without the distraction of over-the-top personalities.

After the first two sides, there was an intermission. The lady behind me - she sounded blonde - asked of her companions:

What's the theme of this album, anyway?!

"Sexy Sadie" is so biting! I had a stuffed raccoon named "Rocky" when I was young. You'd never find anything like that today; the song just isn't known. "Julia" was nice, performed with two voices necessarily, as a tribute to Lennon's mother. I couldn't help but compare it with what Roger Waters has done in regards to his father. I thought of that video of Lennon at the bed inn with Al Capp. Lennon is angry but still a pussycat. And Derek Taylor is fuming like a gentleman.

Often the audience failed to allow for the "fade-out/return" effect, that "false ending," which characterizes so many of the album's Lennon/McCartney compositions. But then I got stumped myself on "Helter Skelter"¹ and clapped too early. That song was bloody loud with the constant drone like T2 or Contact. I had thought I heard the comeback before I really had but, in fact, the sound level goes all the way down to 0. And, of course, it isn't the whole comeback without "I got blisters on my fingers!" The most ironic thing about that song is the constant background of "Ahhhhh" by Lennon, as if it's some silly love song.

The band wasn't a tribute group and so didn't wear costumes. It was all about the music. It was certainly the first time I'd heard a faithful live performance of "The White Album," cover to cover. So many Beatlemania experiences "all those years ago" attempted to make up in impersonations what they lacked in musicianship.

---

¹ George Martin can be seen rocking out @ about 3:26.

This assessment was on someone's Facebook page, who scored farther into the lower left quadrant than I did.

My result doesn't surprise me. It's actually a relief to see I'm not that far off center. I s'pose being a girl keeps me moderated.

Several of the questions were scary to ponder.

I got all my homework done this week. I stayed up until 1 o'clock last night to finish and bagged the Great Adventure stuff because Ella was home sick Tuesday anyway. I might make up that work but maybe not.

The first lesson is a gentle introduction to the method with a lighter workload. After the opening drivel about how important this all is and how wonderful we are for engaging in it, several passages from Genesis were assigned. Rather than merely reading them, I copied them out in the space provided between the references and highlighted verses I thought significant. The interpretation is very literal: God promised specific land to Abraham, repeated that promise to Isaac, Jacob and Joseph and God can be trusted to keep promises. cf. Gen. 12:1-7, 13:14-18, 15:13-18, 26:1-6, 28:10-15, 37:23-28, 41:41, 46:2-4, 50. As I said, with the exception of chapter 50, I copied out these pericopes.

The next instruction was to read Exodus 1 and identify the main characters: a new king in Egypt who did not know Joseph, Hebrew midwives, namely Shiphrah and Puah; God, and the sons (and daughters) of Israel. Then, I read Exodus 2 and answered the 5 W's and the H about Moses:

• Who: Moses ben Levi (2:1)
• Where: near the Nile (2:3)
• What: Moses' early life (2)
• When: after the patriarchs, during the reign of a king who did not know Joseph
• Why: God's deliverer (2:24-25)
• How: wisdom & providence (2:3, 7, 9)

Swimmingly, right? I'm not new to this. But then, the snag: read Acts 7:15-30. Ah, I copied it out first. What is St. Stephen's speech? A pious reflection, attributing to Moses thoughts that aren't expressed in Exodus.

"... it came into his heart to visit his brothers ..." (cf. Acts 7:23; Ex. 2:11)

"... defended the oppressed and avenged him ..." (cf. Acts 7:24; Ex.2:12)

Apparently Moses was under the impression that his brothers would understand God was giving them salvation by his hand, but they didn't. To all this, I say, why the burning bush. The point of the exercise isn't the specific "insight" that the New Testament gives to the Old but the general evangelical principle that "Scripture interprets or enlightens Scripture" (page 7).

Now, I found two things interesting this morning when we gathered for discussion and the video lecture. Three things, maybe. First, when confronted with St. Stephen's description of Moses in Acts, the French lady seated next to me objected aloud to everyone:

"But that's the New Testament!"

Rather than saying what I thought ("Exactly!"), I heard myself whisper the party line to her, "It's the inspired word of God." European liberalism meets American Fundamentalism. Comforting to observe someone else wig out over the clash.

Second, strangely, I found that I'd missed Kay Arthur after all these months. I appreciate that she doesn't allow her crew to edit out all self-correction of her verbal blunders anymore. It demonstrates some humility. The third interesting thing, maybe a little disturbing, was how Arthur presented Acts 7, beginning about verse 20 and continuing to the climax in verse 37. Obviously, verse 37 speaks of Jesus but instead she attempted to impress upon us that we can be that prophet in our world today. Before she was done, she rectified that imbalance. Maybe it's just my own fault, but I would just expect her to stick to the intent of Scripture. The video lecture ought not be a sermon. She's a Bible teacher.

I have yet to read Sarna on the first three chapters of Exodus. I would expect, without the benefit of these New Testament "insights," Sarna's read of Moses' character will be different. Don't get me wrong: I affirm St. Stephen's "remembrance" of Moses, but let's at least consider Moses' own remembrance first.