Showing posts with label humour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humour. Show all posts

Friday, July 24, 2015

Book Collectors Unite!



I'm easily distracted by books.

I've walked into someone's house whom I barely knew and quickly become so interested in their living room bookshelf that I forgot to engage in the appropriate introductory chit chat that's fitting when you visit someone for the first time ("...Oh  do you live here?"). And though my family knows that when we are traveling at highway speeds, I'm incapable of stopping for anything but the most dire emergencies, I have suddenly stopped and turned around on a highway because I passed an unexpected used book store ("...You can hold your pee until the next bookstore!"). But my wife, Fiona, is in on this too. We once planned a holiday in scenic England entirely around a search for used books ("...Castles? What are castles?"). But I've always taken it too far even for her. One winter day I left her waiting in an idling car with two small children in car seats in snow suits, parked for who knows how long because I "had to" investigate a used bookstore, and she didn't want to unpack the kids and bring them in ("...Can you keep the kids warm for the next hour or so?"). I seriously grovelled and apologized for that one!

The simple fact is, my one and only hobby is books. Collecting books. I know I'm not the most zealous collector out there, as I've met fanatical types whom I could never keep up with. But I'd like to think we could be in the same league. 

There are many types of book collectors.


There are the "Get as many books in my house as possible" book collectors. Genre or quality are not the issues; quantity is the issue. And quantity makes for great displays!

Then there are the "Nothing but New" book collectors who insist on books being in pristine condition, and whose shelves look immaculate and whose books are never lent out.

Then there are the "Only dusty old hardcovers will do" book collectors who swoon over the smell of old books, and have beautiful rows of vintage books of various colours which may have the occasional blemish, but it's all part of their character.

And finally, there are the "Don't bore me with that genre" book collectors who go for the old and the new, the hard covers and the soft covers, but are quite selective in the themes represented on their shelves. This one probably best describes myself, though most book collectors are likely a combination of different types.

But there's one thing that sets many book collectors apart from other lovers of the printed page: Libraries confuse us. Why take home a book that you have to return after you read it? I don't understand. If you want to read a book, buy the book. I don't want to give books back. I like them. I want them.

Book collectors don't always buy books to read them, but always to enjoy them.

When Fiona and I bought our first home, a little two-story house with a 450 sq.ft. footprint and a tiny living room (smaller than the family tent that we impulsively bought at Costco when we simply went for eggs - but that's another story (behold, the Behomoth)), we built a large room-dominating floor-to-ceiling bookshelf unit and attached it to the walls in the corner of the living room. As life went on, I added books to it with no thought as to when I might read them. Some people seemed to find this silly when they heard that I hadn't read so many of the books displayed in our living room. But I would simply shrug. I collect them, I'd explain. (Some of you understand).


The truth is, I've read a great many of the books I've bought over the years, and continue to do so. It's not unusual for me to pull a book off one of my shelves to read it many years after I bought it. But some of the best books I've found over the years have barely been opened since I put them on my shelf long ago. A few examples include...
  • A first U.S. edition of T.E. Lawrence's "Seven Pillars of Wisdom" (I also bought a soft cover to read so I wouldn't have to handle this old hardcover version too much).
  • An out-of-print copy of "The Gobi Desert" written by two intrepid woman missionaries in China's pre-communist years to add to my desert genre collection.
  • A rare nineteenth-century breast pocket-sized book containing a collection of John Wesley's writings.
  • A first edition of George Eldon Ladd's famous "Gospel of the Kingdom." (For this one, I also have a soft cover for reading purposes).
  • An obscure book with a beautiful cover that describes the missions history of the 2,000 years between the 12 Apostles and William Carey.
  • A small, gorgeously bound KJV Bible that we found in a bookstore in England that contained a long, slender, pressed leaf on which someone had beautifully written: "Gertie" South Africa 1877 on one side, and With Love on the other side. A romance preserved for over a century in God's book.

Eventually we moved from that little house, and Fiona didn't want to take those homemade book shelves with us. For our new home, we planned to buy new book cases. And when they were full, more book cases. And when they were full, more book cases.

Fiona and I have each bought each other book cases as gifts on special occasions. Why not? Isn't that normal? It has to be for a married couple whose favourite thing to do whenever we visit my parents in British Columbia is to go to two local bookstores that are both among the best of all the used bookstores we've ever visited (which is many). 

What makes a great used book store?


For starters, they have to be crowded with books in every nook and cranny you can possibly place them. Multiple floors is a plus.

And they must have a wide selection of genres available, with an obvious balance in their stock between hard cover and soft cover books, but biased toward hard covers in most genres. 

And the staff need to be knowledgeable but also unobtrusive so that you can feel on your own amidst the books until you need a question answered. 

Prices also shouldn't be so low that you wonder if you're shopping among the dregs of someone's garage sale leftovers, but nor should they be so high that you are robbed of the joy of discovering literary treasures at a discount! 

And there should be a bathroom. Definitely a bathroom.

A Bookstore Tour

When Fiona and I took our first holiday with our first child (when she was a highly literate three month old baby), we visited the official used book store capital of the United Kingdom – perhaps the world: Hay-on-Wye. It was amazing!

Now, 21½ years later, Fiona and I will soon be launching out on our first summer vacation with no children accompanying us since that trip to Hay-on-Wye. And surprise, surprise  we plan to visit 12 used bookstores between Chilliwack and Victoria, BC! Of course, we also plan to stay in a hotel right on Victoria's waterfront and re-visit Butchart Gardens for the first time since our honeymoon. But because we've been to British Columbia so many times over the years, it feels like we're done doing the touristy stuff, and we're not big-time hiker types. 

What we are is book collectors, and collect we shall. We may be needing another bookcase.



© 2015 by Ken Peters

Friday, November 26, 2010

Gift-Getting

Every Christmas, I find myself internally-conflicted in a couple of ways. On the one hand, I love giving presents. Turns out that gift-giving is one of my top love-languages. And I'm known in my family for buying gifts that people don't expect but are thrilled to get. Like the Australian leather cattleman's hat I bought for my dad not long ago. I should also mention the diamond ring I bought for Fiona one Christmas.

But on the other hand, I'm not so great at getting presents. Fiona tells me that I'm very difficult to buy for. Either I'm totally distracted by the cost of her buying me something after I spent so much on her, or I'm just not very easily pleased with what people get me. I can be ungrateful, focusing on the gift rather than the giver, wanting them to provide me with the same thrill I just gave them.

I guess that may be why I found the following video of Andy Rooney somewhat amusing...




Add to that the huge distraction of world poverty compared to the extravagant amount of money we as North Americans spend on Christmas presents and I can end up a real grump on Christmas morning. For example, did you know that last year, consumers in the United States spent about 10.7 billion dollars on Black Friday (the day after Thanksgiving), 6.9 billion dollars on the Saturday before Christmas, and 7.9 billion dollars on Boxing Day? That's over 25 billion bucks spent in three -- count 'em! -- three short days. To put that in perspective, Burundi's GDP (gross domestic product, or the total value of all the goods and services a country produces in one year) is about 3.1 billion dollars. Haiti's GDP is about 6.7 billion dollars. Those figures create some of the internal conflict I feel at Christmastime as we lovingly buy unnecessary items for each other.

Ah, the joy of living in the tension of two truths. I want to remember the poor, but does that mean it's wrong to bless Aunt Nellie with a new set of tea towels?

So that leaves me needing to remember two important lessons as Christmas Day approaches. First, when it comes to gift-giving, gratitude is as important as generosity. Gift-getting is as much an act of love as gift-giving, and no one's act of kindness ought to be spurned, no matter what the circumstances! And secondly, in the same way that God doesn't intend for the needs of the world's poorest people to prevent me from blessing my family and friends at Christmas, I don't believe He wants me to spend so much on them that I'm unable to give anything to help the poor in a meaningful way as well.

Hopefully I can remember those things this Christmas, and then I'll be able to enjoy the gifts I get as much as I enjoy being a blessing to others in the many meaningful ways that God leads me.

© 2010 by Ken Peters

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

The Blog that ate up all my free time

It's my blog's second birthday today!  Yep.  It's been two years and 163 posts since I began this little online spiritual journal.  And I'd like to believe that it hasn't all been a complete waste of time.  I've enjoyed the opportunity it's given me to write, and I hope others have enjoyed reading what I've written.


A year ago, I reflected on the recurring themes that had appeared in my blog up until that point, and for the most part, I find that the same major themes still stand out a year later (with a few new additions).


But here at the two-year mark, I find myself reflecting back on what my original reasons were in starting this blog.  Why would I spend so much time carefully crafting sentences as I share about my struggles and the lessons that I'm learning in life?


Well, the primary reason is because I love to write, period. Regardless of whether people read what I write or not, I feel an inner compulsion to write my thoughts down.  It feels like a need, and can grow so strong that it's difficult to restrain.  It wants to fill all my free time, rob me of my sleep-time, encroach upon my family-time, and even creep into my work-time.  It truly is like The Blob!


But in addition to that, there are four other reasons why I make time to blog (and I'm grateful to a blogger who has gone before me for the thought he's given to what makes blogging a worthwhile exercise).
  1. To be known...  As I mention in the "Who is this guy?" link above, "I began this blog because I wanted to share with others from the things I'm learning form God."  That often means sharing vulnerably about my struggles in life, but it also means sharing about encouraging things that God is helping me to learn.  Whichever the case, my desire is that those who read my posts will get to know me personally rather than simply the things I'm learning.
  2. To interact...  I enjoy seeing people face-to-face, but a blog is a great way to interact with others in a much more convenient way.  There's room for dialog in the comments option beneath each of my posts, and I welcome people's feedback so that we can learn from each another in this blog.
  3. To recommend...  Every so often, I get so excited about something that I want to recommend it to others.  I've even created a Recommendations category that readers can click on in the index (in the column to the right).  Such posts might be about anything --a book, an opportunity, a charity or even a place.  If I've found something helpful or enjoyable, I want to share it with you!
  4. To teach...  This is simply about me wanting to use this blog to share some of the brief insights I sometimes receive from the Lord during my times spent with Him.  Such lessons may come as I read my Bible, but can also come up as I simply read the news or a book.
With that in mind, I welcome you to continue reading this blog and to leave a comment now and then to let me know what you're thinking!

And in celebration of my blog's second birthday, you're welcome to take a minute to watch a few classic scenes from the second installment of the original "Blob" movie...




© 2010 by Ken Peters

Monday, March 1, 2010

Taxes or a shark attack?

We've re-connected our television to the outside world today. Though I may regret it, we're giving cable television another try. It doesn't seem the most likely way to improve my life, but maybe -- just maybe -- I'll find something to watch that's worth the $5/month it will cost me for the next twelve months.

Jonathan Goldstein did. I'm thinking back to an article I once read by a clever newspaper columnist and radio host named Jonathan Goldstein. His article even relates to what I wrote yesterday about fears, and also reminds me of the unavoidable tax forms I need to fill out this month. Check out how television helped him on one occasion...

"I am watching a documentary about sharks, and I am somewhat saddened that the sharks just don't seem to be scaring me the way they used to. When I was a kid, I used to spend about 80% of my time worrying about being eaten by sharks. This was during the '70s, and I guess that with all the movies -- Shark!, Jaws, Jaws 2 and Jaws 3-D -- everyone was. Going to the beach was an act of daredevilhood. I remember dropping a hardboiled egg into the surf to see if a shark would come and get it -- to see if it was safe to swim -- and my dad yelling to never mind the shark, he was going to murder me with his bare hands for wasting eggs.

"But nowadays, or at least on some days, being eaten by a shark doesn't seem so bad. I mean, it would be bad, but after the first couple bites, I suspect it would be no worse than putting up a carport, or listening to someone talk about their RRSP contribution.

"I have financial matters on my mind this evening because I've promised myself, despite it being one of my major anxieties, to get a head start on my taxes. But instead, I continue to watch the documentary on sharks, nostalgic for old fears and still unwilling to confront new ones."

© 2010 by Ken Peters

Saturday, February 13, 2010

A little food humour after a night out...

I took Fiona out for dinner last night. It's not something we do that often and we really enjoyed ourselves. Time to talk and laugh, and of course there's all that gazing into each other's eyes. Yes, we're in love. Then as the waiter brought us our complimentary bread, Fiona and I both remembered some lines that we'd heard from a funny-man named Jim Gaffigan to do with restaurants and food. Here are a couple samples from him...

"I enjoy bread, but when I go out to dinner, suddenly I crave bread. 'Bread! They got bread here? We should have bread at home. We've gotta get the recipe for bread.' You ever go to a restaurant and eat the whole basket of bread? And you still want more? It's kind of awkward asking the waiter for seconds on bread. 'Yeah, can we have some more of that free bread? And you can cancel my entree; I'm just gonna load up on the bread.'"

"I'm moving a little slow tonight. I had a Hot Pocket for dinner. I buy those things, but I've never eaten a Hot Pocket and been like, 'I'm glad I ate that.' I'm always like, 'I'm gonna die! I paid for that? Did I eat it or rub it on my face? My back hurts!' I was looking at a box of Hot Pockets; they have a warning printed on the side. It's like, 'Warning: You just bought Hot Pockets! Hope you're drunk or heading home to a trailer, you hillbilly. Enjoy the next NASCAR event.' You never really see them on the menu when you go out to dinner, you know. 'Um yeah, I'll have the Caesar salad and a Hot Pocket.' There's also the vegetarian Hot Pocket for those who don't want to eat meat but still want diarrhea."

© 2010 by Ken Peters

Friday, November 20, 2009

Shopping for that special someone

There's only 5 weeks till Christmas and I've yet to spend the consumer average of $831 on Christmas presents! Talk about pressure. And with no snow on the ground, how does anyone expect me to even think of such things? I'm told that traffic at the malls in Winnipeg increases dramatically once it snows, as if all we are is a bunch of Pavlov's dogs that don't have the sense to simply look at a calendar and make plans. Or is it that we simply must have snow for Christmas shopping in the same way we expect there to be unshelled peanuts sold at a wrestling match or something is seriously wrong?

So in an effort to promote some good old fashioned consumerism this Christmas season, I've found ten inspiring ads that may give you some fresh ideas for the loved ones on your list (they can be clicked on to read the small print).


















And I'm thinking, that guy should be the president of the most powerful nation on earth.


















Why does it look like that Santa was found in a back lane somewhere? Well, if I know someone with a scratchy throat, I now know what to get.


















That's
what I'm hoping for in my stocking. Sammy sure seems like he was hoping for some.


















This is for those who can't afford to buy someone a Mac notebook.


















Enough with that clean, digital iPod sound in which you can't even hear the scratchy friction of a piece of wire scraping across a sheet of vinyl! What's wrong with kids these days? At prices like that, go retro!


















Wow. Like, what are they really trying to encourage here? I may be reading too much into this, but is there a hint of malice in that ad?


















Now why does the look in that kid's eyes not go too well with the gun that's in his hands?


















That lady does indeed look happy. Way too happy.


















Aside from gift #10 below, this is the best gift any man could get his wife. I mean, talk about functionality! It's sure to be needed and she'll be sure to use it! I'm thinking I'm ready to pop over to Walmart any moment now.


















And this is an obvious choice for that special someone in your life. The small print says, "This year, there is no gift like Borg's magnificent bath scale... the 'Flight'." Yeah, you can bet I'll be flying. Right out the door if I give this to my wife. Did women in the '50s actually want these kinds of gifts at Christmas? Was it actually okay to give a gift that said, "Hey, maybe you need to shed a few pounds!"?

Well, there you have it. Ten great gift ideas. Happy consuming!

© 2009 by Ken Peters

Friday, October 9, 2009

For the love of fonts!

I'm known as the Document Guy at the office. Or sometimes Captain Document. It's because I'm the only one who seems to care at all about a million itty-bitty picky little details when creating a document for distribution (I wrote a post about how I was actually convicted about this recently).

I'm picky about what grade of paper we use. I pay attention to whether there's a space of four one hundredths of an inch or six one hundredths of an inch between an inserted photo and the text that appears next to it. I generally shun clip art as overly desktoppish. And I may be a bit of a font snob. I tend to find many of the Windows default fonts as too old and stale to use, so I download newer ones for a fresher look. Perhaps that's why I find the following video so amusing.



© 2009 by Ken Peters

Friday, August 7, 2009

Used books

I can't seem to walk past a used book store without going in. I have to look. I have to check and see. Though I'm sure I already have hundreds of books at home that I've yet to read (I've never counted them), I'm convinced there are more out there I need, and someone is prepared to sell me one for $1.25.

Every time I'm on vacation, this bug hits me hard. On past summer holidays, I've found beautiful first editions of old classics at cut-rate prices, books autographed by famous people and then priced as though nobody noticed, and vintage editions of out-of-print books by the likes of John Wesley and Charles Spurgeon in a give-away box! Those are the kinds of discoveries that keep me in the hunt.

So this year, I took my family on an exciting ferry ride to Victoria, BC. Beautiful city. Full of sights and attractions. World-class museums, a beautiful waterfront walkway, national historic landmarks. So much to see and do. And amidst all that, I made sure we found the time to visit two local bookstores. Not that they minded. My wife now loves such stores too. And all but one in our family bought books. But as we walked toward the second bookstore, the one child who didn't buy any books exclaimed exhaustedly, "Not another bookstore!" That got my attention.

And yet even as I pondered the significance of my daughter's plaintive cry regarding the prospects of another eternal wait as her family disappeared into the catacombs of another used bookstore, I fell prey. I had decided that the day after our day in Victoria would not be a commercial day, but a day out in the parklands of Vancouver Island. So we drove out of the city and surrounded ourselves with natural beauty. There's so much to see and experience on the island: thundering waterfalls and towering forests and gorgeous ocean beaches. And as we were walking together, the sea gulls happily calling us toward a sunny sea shore, the kids eager to find shells before the tide came in, I saw a used book store down the street. And before you could say "Hard cover, first edition", we were all in the store, surrounded by books once again. Sea shore? What's that?

The thing is, I simply don't need more books to read. I'm already reading about a dozen books right now. No, that's not right. It's more like I've got bookmarks in about a dozen books right now, and some of those have remained untouched for a few years. But I can't help it. I'll start a book, and then before I'm done, I get distracted by another book, and then before I'm done, I get distracted... you get the picture. The point is, I have plenty of reading material.

But that's not the point. I don't buy most book to read. I buy them to collect. I want to collect books that reflect my passions and values, whether I find time to read them or not. And I have read many, and eventually hope to read many more, but in the meantime, I keep wanting to find more. And I love it when I find books that package those passions and values in beautiful bindings with attractive covers and with old weathered pages that look as though others have shared those same passions that I have.

Call it Collector's Itch or call me crazy, but I love old, used books, and summer holidays provide me with the time to search them out. And I think I've infected most of my family with the same itch. (And we did make it to the beach, a forest and a waterfall, and to several historic landmarks in and around Victoria!)

© 2009 by Ken Peters

Sunday, July 19, 2009

We want your soul

The culture of consumerism wants your soul. They want all of our passions to be focused on the glitz and bling of this material world. They want us living for what's now and what's new. But what does it profit us if we have all the fun in the world but neglect our soul (Matthew 16:26)?

Someone decided to approach consumerism from the lighter side and made a mini-musical about it. Why not? It mirrors the background music of our many malls and the flashing lights of our commercial strips. And yet the bags we fill can leave us as empty as the way the following video feels as it concludes...



It's worth a bit of reflection.

© 2009 by Ken Peters

Friday, April 17, 2009

No-Nonsense Christianity!

When he was sixty years old, John Steinbeck set out to re-explore America. He was accompanied by Charley, his French poodle, and he traveled in a truck camper named after Don Quixote’s horse, Rocinante. He then wrote about his trip in the book, Travels with Charley, in Search of America (1962).

The following is a superbly -- and hilariously -- written excerpt from that book about a trip to church one Sunday morning.

Sunday morning, in a Vermont town, my last day in New England, I shaved, dressed in a suit, polished my shoes, whited my sepulcher, and looked for a church to attend. Several I eliminated for reasons I do not now remember, but on seeing a John Knox church I drove into a side street and parked Rocinante out of sight, gave Charley his instructions about watching the truck, and took my way with dignity to a church of blindingly white ship lap. I took my seat in the rear of the spotless, polished place of worship. The prayers were to the point, directing the attention of the Almighty to certain weaknesses and undivine tendencies I know to be mine and could only suppose were shared by others gathered there.

The service did my heart and I hope my soul some good. It had been long since I had heard such an approach. It is our practice now, at least in the large cities, to find from our psychiatric priesthood that our sins aren’t really sins at all but accidents that are set in motion by forces beyond our control. There was no such nonsense in this church. The minister, a man of iron with tool-steel eyes and a delivery like a pneumatic drill, opened up with prayer and reassured us that we were a pretty sorry lot. And he was right. We didn't amount to much to start with, and due to our own tawdry efforts we had been slipping ever since. Then, having softened us up, he went into a glorious sermon, a fire-and-brimstone sermon. Having proved that we, or perhaps only I, were no damn good, he painted with cool certainty what was likely to happen to us if we didn't make some basic reorganizations for which he didn't hold out much hope. He spoke of hell as an expert, not the mush-mush hell of these soft days, but a well-stoked, white-hot hell served by technicians of the first order. This reverend brought it to a point where we could understand it, a good hard coal fire, plenty of draft, and a squad of open-hearth devils who put their hearts into their work, and their work was me. I began to feel good all over. For some years now God has been a pal to us, practicing togetherness, and that causes the same emptiness a father does playing softball with his son. But this Vermont God cared enough about me to go to a lot of trouble kicking the hell out of me. He put my sins in a new perspective. Whereas they had been small and mean and nasty and best forgotten, this minister gave them some size and bloom and dignity. I hadn't been thinking very well of myself for some years, but if my sins had this dimension there was some pride left. I wasn't a naughty child but a first rate sinner, and I was going to catch it.

I felt so revived in spirit that I put five dollars in the plate, and afterward, in front of the church, shook hands warmly with the minister and as many of the congregation as I could. It gave me a lovely sense of evil-doing that lasted clear through till Tuesday. I even considered beating Charley to give him some satisfaction too, because Charley is only a little less sinful than I am. All across the country I went to church on Sundays, a different denomination every week, but nowhere did I find the quality of that Vermont preacher. He forged a religion designed to last, not predigested obsolescence.

© 2009 by Ken Peters

Friday, March 6, 2009

We are not alone... (and a video to prove it!)

I love maps. I just put a world map up in my home office. It's made by National Geographic in beautiful antique tones, and is mounted on wood with braces on the back so that it appears to float about an inch from the wall. It truly looks like a work of art.

Every Christian's home should have a world map up on a wall somewhere. They're beautiful, colourful reminders of the many wonderful peoples and cultures that this world consists of and that God wants us to share His love with. God wants us to see beyond ourselves, and a map is a simple way to help us do so. I love what Jesus said in John 4:35 -- "...lift up your eyes and look..." And then He pointed us to vast fields representing the myriads of people who need Him! Combine that with what John said he saw in Revelation 7:9, and the implications are amazing: "After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb..."

God loves the nations, and He's going to reach them! But He wants to use His people to do so. He wants us to go to every nation to share the good news of Jesus so that there will be people from every tribe and language enjoying Him forever in heaven. In fact, this is so important to Jesus that He said that His return would not occur until every single ethnic group heard the Gospel (Matthew 24:14).

That's why I love having maps up in my house. There's one above our kids' computer in the family room and now there's one in my office. They help me to remember that I'm not on this earth by myself or for myself. And they remind me of the many beautiful people I share this world with. People who desperately need the hope and power of Jesus. People who are desperate for food in refugee camps of Darfur and eastern Chad. People who are desperate for peace in Palestine and eastern Congo. People who are desperate for freedom from tyranny in North Korea and Zimbabwe. Maps keep all of this before me, and ought to cause me to both pray and to act on those prayers.

How about you? Go for it! Put up a map in your home. And let God touch your heart regarding the precious people beyond our horizons. And if you need a little something to spark your interest in geography, check out the following video. I know it's fairly dated, which means quite a few countries aren't mentioned, but it's a really enjoyable way to get a feel for how many people we share this world with. Take a look, and enjoy!



© 2009 by Ken Peters

Saturday, February 21, 2009

A new lamp

So just a few hours after posting "Living with Eternity in mind", Fiona and I went out to buy a new living room lamp. Our old one had broken, so we found ourselves out and about looking at lamps. Now in view of what I wrote on Friday morning, I have no worries that I'm in grave danger of becoming too focused on a new lamp. I was simply a bit taken aback at the price of lamps and the thought that we were now spending more money on stuff that fills our house. In essence, more money on stuff for me. Don't get me wrong. I'm not racked with guilt for buying a lamp. I'm just distracted by how much money we continually spend on making our living environment functional and attractive, and how challenging that makes it to have resources left over to share with people in need, a priority we don't want to lose.

And then I was reminded of the video below. A very funny video that chastens me for becoming too attached to the stuff in my life, and then sneaks in a plug that new stuff is much better than old! And of course, the main attraction in the video is a lamp. Take a look!



© 2009 by Ken Peters

Monday, January 12, 2009

What we can learn from our kids' drawings

This is a picture my daughter drew in early 2000 when she was six years old (you can click on it for a clearer view of it). The title is Mummy and Dad at home!

There's a great deal to observe about this drawing. To begin with, Fiona is obviously much larger than me. Dominatingly so. And she looks so happy in her beautiful dress, high heels, blouse and necklace. But I, on the other hand, though wearing a very snappy tie, have been drawn wearing knickers and a dreaded don't-take-me-seriously white short-sleeved dress shirt. And if it's not enough that Fiona is firmly clutching the hand of my miniature arm, her svelte uniform body also creates an extremely uncomplimentary contrast to the disfigured form of my limbs of various lengths and widths. And then there's my face. Fiona seems quite happy with her carefully drawn teethy grin, but I appear completely crazed with my disheveled hair and unkempt beard and my eyes of uneven size.

And then there's the apple in Fiona's hand, which on close inspection looks to have a bite taken out of it. I wonder somehow if (with the mess all around my mouth) I'm the one who's eating it as Fiona kindly feeds the weedy little man at her side.

I don't want to over-psycho-analyze this drawing, but when I first saw it, it did occur to me that perhaps I hadn't been home with the kids often enough. "Who's that little man we see with Mummy sometimes?" they might have wondered. I think they've figured that out by now.

© 2009 by Ken Peters

Monday, December 1, 2008

An Engineer's Report on Santa Claus

I found the following report on the sad demise of that jolly ol' Santa fellow. I share it with you now so that you have plenty of time to do your own shopping in lieu Santa's fate, as described below. It outlines the implications of the incredible job Santa has to accomplish on the night before Christmas...

In regards to Santa's means of trans
port, there is no known species of reindeer can fly. BUT, there are 300,000 species of living organisms yet to be classified, and while most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer, which only Santa has ever seen.

In reg
ards to the sheer scale of Santa's task, we could say that (in round numbers) there are approximately 2 billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT since Santa doesn't seem to handle most of the Muslim, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist children who don't celebrate Christmas, that potentially reduces the workload to as little as 32.5% of the total - or 650 million. At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that's 185.7 million homes. One presumes there's at least one good child in each.

Sa
nta has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 1,664 visits per second. This is to say that for each household with good children, Santa has less than 1/1600th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, get back into the sleigh and move on to the next house.

Assuming that each of these 185.7 million stops are evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false but for the purposes of our calculations we will accept), we are now talking about 0.78 miles per household, a total trip of 144.846 million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding etc. This means that Santa's sleigh is moving at 1,315 miles per second, 6,000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle on earth, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second - a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.

The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized Lego set (2 pounds), the sleigh is carrying 649,950 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that "flying reindeer" (see point #1) could pull TEN TIMES the normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even nine. We need 433,300 reindeer. This increases the payload - not even counting the weight of the sleigh - to 714,945 tons. Again, for comparison - this is eight times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth.

714,945 tons traveling at 1,315 miles per second creates enormous air resistance - this will heat the reindeer up in the same fashion as spacecrafts re-entering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb 28.9 QUINTILLION joules of energy per second each. In short, they will burst into flame almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and create deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team will be vapourized within 8.62 thousandths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 35,400.45 times greater than gravity. A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 8,728,709 pounds of force.

In conclusion - if Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve, he's been vapourized by now.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Has your day ever started like this?

I tend to feel better if I avoid caffeine -- it makes me feel like an electric current is coursing through my veins -- but this commercial is still a personal favourite of mine. ...Though I think it should've been called "Ken" instead of "Glen" in memory of the years I worked in the credit and revenue accounting offices at Reimer Express. There were days when I would have appreciated the guys in this video. Check it out!



© 2008 by Ken Peters

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Waiting in Aweil

In the 11 days we were in Aweil, Sudan, it was a strange paradox to get so much accomplished in a place where it took so long to accomplish anything. A Ugandan pastor who ministers in Southern Sudan told us that however long things take to do things in Uganda, it takes five times longer to do the same things in South Sudan. It is a war-torn region that is recovering from over 20 years of civil war (1983-2005), or from what the state Governor referred to as “the disaster of the last 20 years.” Yet despite all that, in a whirlwind 11 days we managed to meet with…
  • the state Governor
  • the state Minister of Education
  • the previous state Minister of Education
  • the state Minister of Infrastructure (re buildings and land)
  • the former Secretary General of Aweil Town
  • the Executive Director of the Aweil Town Council
  • two pastors of the Episcopal Church in Aweil Town
  • the lead pastor of the Sudanese Pentecostal Church in Aweil Town and for the outlying areas
  • two Presbyterian church planters in rural Aweil
  • a portion of the teaching staff of a public primary school in Aweil Town
  • a UN/NGO Taskforce on regional health issues
It had to be God, in answer to the prayers of His people, who ensured that we were able to have so many valuable conversations with so many people. I say this because there were times during our visit when the simplest things took hours to accomplish. For example, one day we planned to drive to a village northwest of Aweil Town to see Aken’s sister as well as to drop off Aken’s brother and Aken’s nephew.      For this to happen, we had arranged to borrow a vehicle from the Ministry of Infrastructure.
All we needed to do was to get the vehicle to come to the place where Aken, Carlos, Aken’s brother, Aken’s nephew and I would be waiting. This is how it all came together…
  • At 11:00am, on the day we planned to make this trip, Aken went to get some medicine for his brother and to confirm the vehicle’s availability while Carlos and I went back to the house we were staying at to get what we needed for the trip.
  • Having got our stuff, Carlos and I walked back to a tea stand at which we expected Aken to return with the vehicle.
  • There we sat around for awhile.
  • Eventually we got hungry, so Carlos and I told the people at the tea stand that we were going to a nearby restaurant for lunch.
  • After eating, Carlos and I sat and sipped our water for awhile.
  • Then after awhile, I pulled out my Bible to read and Carlos slipped on his MP3 player to relax.
  • Then Aken came to the restaurant without the car, without the medicine for his brother and unsure where his brother was.
  • Aken then sat down to have lunch with a relative of his.
  • Carlos then went back to the house to get something.
  • Aken, his relative and I remained at the restaurant and sipped our water.
  • After awhile, Aken’s relative left.
  • Aken and I remained and waited some time longer.
  • After some time, the driver of the vehicle appeared and explained that he needed money for gas.
  • We gave him money and instructed him to return after purchasing the gas.
  • The driver then sat down to eat.
  • Then the power went out and the restaurant’s electric fan, which I had strategically placed myself right in front of, stopped spinning.
  • Not long after that, Aken and I got up and went back to the tea stand, and as we left, I looked back at the driver still sitting at his table eating and I wondered how we could just leave him there when it took so long to find him!
  • After sitting at the tea stand for awhile, I pulled out my sermon notes to review them for Sunday.
  • Then, at about 2:30pm, Carlos returned to the tea stand.
  • Not too long after that, Aken’s brother appeared and sat down at the tea stand. All we needed now was Aken's nephew and the vehicle.
  • But then Aken got up and went to purchase some clothes from the market for his brother.
  • While Aken was away, his nephew then arrived at the tea stand. Now all we needed was Aken and the vehicle.
  • Then Aken’s nephew went away somewhere. What next? Would Aken's brother be the next to leave so that when the vehicle came, it would be for just Carlos and I?
  • Then Aken returned with the clothes.
  • And then suddenly, at 3:10, the vehicle arrived with Aken’s nephew.
  • But gas had to then be siphoned into the vehicle from two jerry cans.
  • We then loaded up the luggage, and at 3:17, we departed for our destination.
Whenever we faced long waits like this, it often seemed like everyone around us knew more about what was going on than Carlos and I understood. We would sometimes try to clarify what was happening, but people seemed to think that we’d be better off if we just trusted them rather than them having to explain things to two confused North Americans. And like I said, the things that were accomplished on this trip seemed to work out in ways far beyond what we could have accomplished by our own understanding anyway!

© 2008 by Ken Peters

Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Three Very Important Rules

When it comes to overseas travel, there are many things to consider as one plans and packs. And there’s one thing that I know we should all be certain to prepare for, and yet I never cease to find it awkward even to mention. It’s so highly personal, and yet so difficult to suffer in secret when afflicted with it while traveling… I'm speaking of diarrhea. It is common to us all, and yet there are many ways we try to avoid the word when needing to explain the problem: “I’m not responding well to the food” or “I have an upset tummy.” It’s been called Montezuma’s Revenge, the Jamaican Shuffle, Delhi Belly and even the Sudanese Quickstep. And after spending a year in Sudan in my early-20’s (without any special tablets that are commonly available at any pharmacy, but which NOBODY ever told me about even they knew I’d certainly need them), I have learned that there are three Very Important Rules that must be followed when afflicted with… diarrhea. I have personally found that if one ignores these Very Important Rules, one does so to one’s own peril.
Rule #1: Always respond absolutely immediately to the slightest subterranean sensation. In other words, whatever you’re doing, no matter how vitally important it seems or how close it is to being completed, STOP. Stop whatever you’re doing and move to the nearest facility – carefully.
Rule #2: Never assume that it’s safe – unless properly poised in a proper place – to pass what you’d normally expect to be just a little wind. Handle with care.
Rule #3: Always be absolutely certain that you always know exactly where the nearest facility is located, and never stray too many Quicksteps away from it.
It’s also a Reasonably Good Rule to take some special tablets on trips (that I NOW KNOW are commonly available at any pharmacy). But if you’re anything like me, you’ll want to find them yourself rather than having to ask a pharmacist for them by name.

© 2008 by Ken Peters

Friday, May 16, 2008

Ernest gives up Camping

It’s the May long weekend and camping season is upon us, but we don’t plan to camp this year. Sure, we still could if we really wanted to put Fiona to the test, but I’m not so cruel. We never really camped for the love of it. I just thought that, rather than paying $100 for a cozy, quiet hotel room, I’d rather pay a mere $25 for a sloped patch of grass and tree roots that happens to have party-animal neighbours just eight feet from our heads.

Once as we lay awake in the night on one of those serene plots of earth, a tornado ripped roofs off buildings a few miles from us, and the storm turned a small dome tent next to us completely upside down. It was no great consolation during the height of the storm to have a friend of ours who is an undertaker come to ask if we were alright. I’m not making this up. For over a year after that, our preschool-aged son would get all skittish whenever he saw a slightly off-white cloud. He would tug on our sleeves and beg to go inside, wide-eyed and anxiously saying, "Tundatome, tundatome!" But hey - we saved money, didn't we? I just wondered how much the counseling fees would be.

Another time, we were camping in Golden, BC and Fiona and I suddenly awoke at about two in the morning, wondering why we were beginning to feel the earth through our brand new deluxe queen-size air mattress. It was losing air. Wanting to be a hero, I started our van amongst the previously sleeping campers all around us and drove off to the 24-hour Husky to buy a small dusty old roll of duct tape for $249.99. It was worth it if it would help my lovely bride to have a better sleep. Once back, we found that duct tape wouldn’t stop the leak. But it did slow the leak. So to decrease the pressure on the mattress, I nobly chose to sleep in our upholstered van, leaving Fiona to sleep on the hard earth she would soon feel beneath the exhaling mattress.

Still committed to camping, we continued to gradually build up our supplies. I remember the summer we bought a Coleman stove thinking we could finally have hot meals out in the open air! So there we were that August, in a KOA outside Calgary, with an icy gale blowing so hard that it kept blowing our stove's flame out. We finally gave up and ate cold food. During the night, it snowed. Breakfast was a tad morose as we huddled around a damp and frosty picnic table eating the scraps of food that didn't require a flame.

Our final purchase was a tent called the "Behemoth." It's 18'x10'. At the time we bought it, it was two feet longer than our entire living room. It's over 7' high inside the tent and weighs about 100,000 lbs when in its carrying case (which has in-line wheels for ease of use). It can be subdivided into four rooms if desired, and can easily sleep the five of us, plus leave room for all our suitcases, our cooler and our minivan. But thinking that we had bought a tent in which we could fit both our couches, our TV, a coffee table, an end table and a seven-foot long corner bookcase and still have plenty of room to spare kinda shocked us. We just figured that if it makes camping less stressful, get it. Little did we realize that the reason small is beautiful when camping is that in the chill of the night, it’s good to have a tent small enough so that your body heat can keep your tent from freezing inside. Sure we had space for luggage, but camping in the mountains left us needing arctic sleeping bags.

So after all that we spent, did we use it enough to make up for what we saved on hotel bills? I don’t know, but Fiona’s certainly not too disappointed that we’re no longer trying!

© 2008 by Ken Peters