Month: December 2008

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The Best and Worst of 2008

By Jim Spiegel

As you probably know, this was our first year to blog, and we have been pleasantly surprised with all the attention and activity our posts have drawn.  Thanks for reading and, if applicable, posting comments.  It’s been a blast.  To close out the year we decided to do our first joint-post.  Where our opinions differ, we’ve included separate entries.

Best Film Experiences:

  • Amy: Lars and the Real Girl—This is a sweet and original movie with great performances. I don’t know if it was my ultimate favorite for the year, but like those who vote for the Oscars I sometimes suffer from long-term memory loss with regard to movies.
  • Jim: Born into Brothels—Yes, it was made in 2004, but I didn’t see it until this past year. What a remarkable display of the life-changing power of art. Inspiring and heart-rending. And, while I’m on the subject of documentaries, I’ll recommend one that was released in 2008: Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed—Who would have thought that the ID perspective could be so entertaining? To the critics who panned it as “propaganda,” I say you’re only proving Ben Stein’s point!

Worst Film Experiences:

  • Amy: Tropic Thunder—I cannot say anything derogatory regarding the performances, but this movie made me feel like I needed to take multiple showers afterward. I will never listen to the recommendation of a Blockbuster employee again.
  • Jim: Bobby—This film has more contrived scenes than an episode of Baywatch (and almost as much cleavage), and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen a movie with such self-conscious directing.

Best Musical Experiences of the Year:

  • Amy: Sara Bareilles’ Little Voice—This is my soundtrack when hanging on by a thin thread. Just crank it up and feel a few decades younger (until the children find you, that is).
  • Jim: The Killers’ Day and Age, Bob Dylan’s Tell-Tale Signs, and a half-dozen different albums by the most underrated band in rock history: The Kinks.

Favorite Songs of the Year:

  • Amy: “Human” from the Killers’ Day and Age. It’s the only song whose entire lyrics I have learned since we started having kids, with the exception of “Yahweh” by U2. Both are daily offered up as prayers of desperation as I cruise the back roads of Indiana in a mini-van that sounds like an airplane struggling to take off.
  • Jim: “Red River Shore” from Dylan’s Tell-Tale Signs. This song is one of the Bobster’s most poignant ever. It will break your heart in more ways than you can count. Thank you, God, for endowing this man with such creative genius.  Amen.

Best Sports Moment of the Year:  Brankle Construction’s championship in the Upland Coaches’ Pitch Baseball League.  There were plenty of life-lessons to go around as Brankle (Bailey’s team, coached by Jim) dramatically triumphed over the haughty and hitherto undefeated Pratt Construction team in the playoff semi-final—essentially a little league baseball version of the Giants-Pats Super Bowl.

Worst Sports Moments of the Year:  The Detroit Lions dubious record-breaking 0-16 season.  They’ve set the mark for futility.  Now let’s see if they can set the mark for biggest single-season turnaround.

Most Satisfying Read of the Year:

  • Amy:  North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell.  Gaskell takes social justice issues, adds insightful cultural observations, and wraps it all up in a beautiful love story.
  • Jim:  Degenerate Moderns by E. Michael Jones.  Jones’ provocative (and well-argued) thesis is that modernism (e.g., Rousseau’s political philosophy, Margaret Mead’s cultural anthropology, Freud’s psychology, and even Picasso’s artistic vision), was the result of rationalized sexual misbehavior.  While he can be overweening at times, Jones can also be profoundly insightful.

Political High Point of the Year:  The election of Barack Obama as U.S. President.

Political Low Point of the Year:  The election of Barack Obama as U.S. President.

Most Preposterous News Event of the Year:  The “pregnant man” story.  Only in a culture where a significant minority believes that gender can be socially (or physiologically) constructed could such a claim pass as anything but a joke or an abuse of language (or both).  Its yet another confirmation of Richard Weaver’s thesis that the demise of Western culture begain with the rejection of essences.

Recurrent Theological Theme of the Year:

  • Amy:  When you ask God to deliver you from difficult circumstances, it doesn’t mean He will beam-you-up-Scotty.  Rather, He will preserve you through the storm.  As hymnist John Keith put it, “When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie, my grace, all-sufficient, shall be thy supply; the flame shall not harm thee; I only design thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine” (“How Firm a Foundation”).
  • Jim:  The importance of maintaining high regard for the classical Christian creeds (especially the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds) and the imprudence of treating disputable theological issues as if they were creedal.

Most Satisfying Shared Experience of the Year:  At least when it comes to the professional aspect of our relationship, it was definitely doing this blog together.

  • Amy:  I love you, honey-bunny.
  • Jim:  I love you, too, honey-bunny.

New Year’s Resolutions (regarding Wisdom and Folly):

  • Amy: 1) to explore less of my mommy-can-you-get-me-a-drink side and more of my I-read-interesting-books-and-watch-artsy-foreign-films side and 2) to leave more room in my opinions for respectful disagreement with those I respect and an escape hatch that offers the option of (gasp) changing my mind.
  • Jim: 1) to explore atheism as a philosophical and psychological phenomenon and 2) to continue to do my best to overlook insulting, patronizing, or condescending comments on our posts, while resisting the temptation to delete them! Thankfully, there were very few of these (among the hundreds submitted). Nearly all reader comments were constructive, even when critical. Thank you! And to all of you, may God bless you with a healthy and happy (in the Aristotelian sense of eudaimonia) year in 2009!
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Dairy Queen Deserts and Christmas Disappointments

By Amy Spiegel

Many years ago, when it was just Jim and I (it actually seems more like a lifetime ago), we took a second honeymoon tour of the Southwest. We drove through Louisiana and then Texas, visiting friends and family along the way. One special friend that we visited as often as possible was our dear friend, Dairy Queen. As fond as both Jim and I are of milk products, locating these gold mines of lactose-loaded delights quickly became a daily tradition. As we started our long leg across southern Texas, however, our mid-day pit stop at a roadside DQ became more of a challenge. We had entered a Dairy Queen desert. Like thirsty travelers in search of an oasis, we would eagerly await each exit food sign, quickly scanning the edible options. If there was no Dairy Queen, we would laugh a bit to ourselves and light-heartedly say “Ah, there will be one at the next exit.” And so it would go, Dairy Queenless exit after Dairy Queenless exit. With each passing hour, our disappointment mounted and disbelief turned to desperation (we might have settled for a Baskin Robbins just to get through the day). Then, somehow, it became funny. It was so tragic, this lack of ice cream, that one had to laugh. And we did. It became a standing joke for the rest of the trip and even now. Of course, it didn’t hurt that upon entering the great state of New Mexico, we found Dairy Queens aplenty.

This week, I felt a bit like a wanderer in a desert with no oasis in site. My family will tell you that I look forward to Christmas even more than I look forward to a perfectly dipped chocolate cone (especially because Jim always bites the tip off my dipped cone, perfectly dipped or not, as it passes from the drive-thru window to me. Not that I am bitter.) I especially love arriving at my parents’ house a week or so before the big day. My mom always does a great job decorating the house and we usually have several special events planned for the kids: ice skating downtown with my dad, going to Dollywood for the shows and lights, and hosting friends and family while a fire crackles in the fireplace. This week, however, my kids have hardly left the couch as bad colds have kept everyone homebound. No one has slept well and Sam ended up with pneumonia. It’s enough to make a girl go “Bah, hum bug!” While laying beside my kids at night, rubbing their backs as they hack in my face (why don’t they write about that in Mother’s Day cards?) I have prayed that God would heal the kids in time for them to have a little fun. Is that too much to ask? I felt like I was back in our little Toyota Corolla all over again, driving down an endless highway, just looking for a little relief. And relief was granted but certainly not in the form I expected or frankly wanted. No, the kids didn’t leap from bed and say “Hallelujah, I’m healed!” But they didn’t complain or whine much about missing out on all the things we planned. Yes, I still had to get up over and over to get them water, fix their covers and rub their chest with Vic’s Vapor Rub (again). But God granted me more patience than I usually have and a great husband and parents who got up every morning so I could sleep in. It’s such a cliché that God always answers our prayers, just not always in the way we hoped, and yet it is a truth that too often seems to take me by surprise.

So this Christmas, be prepared. You will be disappointed, either by something that is or isn’t under the tree or more likely something someone does or doesn’t say or do. In your disappointment, however, try to remember just what you are celebrating. We recognize the birth of Jesus as the great gift-the deliverance of mankind from bondage and death. But for some who had looked forward to his birth, it was the greatest disappointment of their lives. Sometimes the greatest blessings come in forms you don’t expect, whether you are looking for the Dairy Queen or the Messiah.

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Want to Get Rich? Major in Philosophy!

By Jim Spiegel

A recent PayScale Inc. study on college graduates across the disciplines revealed some surprising facts about the earning power of a Philosophy degree.  Fifty different bachelors’ degrees were compared in terms of average incomes for recent graduates and for those a decade after graduation.  The study found that the highest average percentage of salary increase is achieved, that’s right, by Philosophy majors—a whopping 103.5%.  In terms of raw numbers, Philosophy majors’ average salary upon graduation is $40,000, and ten years later the average jumps to $81,000.  And when average salaries in the 75th and 90th percentiles of all majors are compared, Philosophy graduates are actually near the top—neck and neck with electrical engineers and computer scientists—averaging $168,000 in the latter case.  Hard to believe?  Perhaps.  But as Ronald Reagan used to say, facts are stubborn things.

So much, then, for the tired cliché:  What can you do with a Philosophy major?  Evidently a lot, even in terms of income.  As I reflected on this data—which I must admit, surprised even me, though probably not as much as most folks—I did a mental inventory of my own former students whose careers I’ve monitored over the years.  These impressive numbers began to make more sense, even on my anecdotal scan:  Several of my former students are attorneys, thriving financially while (I like to think) helping to redeem a field which, well, needs some redemption.  Some are college professors like me, enjoying the best job in the world while making a decent living.  Others work in publishing, as marketers, editors, and, in one instance, as a literary agent.  A few others started their own businesses and are doing quite well, thank you, beating the business majors at their own game.  All of these folks and others like them drive the numbers up, averaged against the income of other Philosophy majors who now serve as pastors, missionaries, or non-profiters—whose income is more modest but whose vocation is no less rewarding, all things considered. 

How to make sense of this?  Why would a Philosophy major, of all things, be so lucrative over the long haul?  Again, just a little reflection explains what should have been more obvious.  In Philosophy one develops several skills which are crucial for success in whatever field one ultimately chooses to pursue:  critical thinking, conceptual analysis, problem-solving, and skills in oral and written expression.  Try to think of a career in which excelling in these areas will not put one at a distinct advantage over one’s peers.  Add to this the fact that Philosophy majors tend to be more morally circumspect than most, having been trained in the art of moral-decision making and especially encouraged to be persons of integrity.  Put these ingredients together and you have a pretty good recipe for success and even leadership in most fields.

So the next time you hear someone insinuate the impracticality of a Philosophy major from a career standpoint, you can set them straight.  You might even dare to inform them that if they really want to make the big money, then they should be a Philosophy major!

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Snapshots

By Amy Spiegel

Brief comments on film by Amy.
Some old, some new.  Domestic films and foreign too.

The Fallen Idol and Daisy Kenyon — Both of these films date from the late 1940s and are fair to midland as far as quality. However, what struck me about both of them, and many other movies of this era when I took time to reflect on it, is their surprising acceptance—and in the case of The Fallen Idol even glorification—of adultery. I often lament this in today’s Hollywood but see now just how far back that thread of influence stretches. The Fallen Idol is a pretty good film, and the performance by Bobby Henrey as the little boy is great. I watched Daisy Kenyon because I love Henry Fonda. Unfortunately I forgot how much I dislike Joan Crawford. I kept waiting for her to pull out the wire hangers and start beating the daylights out of Dana Andrews. This is one of my favorite periods in film history, but there are many other movies from this era that I enjoy much more (e.g., All About Eve, Only Angels Have Wings, and To Have and Have Not).

State of Play — I love a good thriller that doesn’t involve a character who is a member of Parliament by day and transvestite psychopath by night. You would be surprised at how many political/legal thrillers this excludes. State of Play happily is not among them. This mini-series has so many of my favorite actors who aren’t big stars that I can’t name them all. (And since they aren’t big stars, frankly half the time I can’t remember their names and then have go to IMDB in order to remember what they were in that I liked so much). State of Play has all the great elements of suspense: murder, affairs, lots of people with cool accents running around the city of London. If you like this one, you might also want to check out Horatio Hornblower which A&E did along with the BBC. While it takes place in a different period, isn’t political at all, and is set mostly on ships in service of His Majesty the King, most of the actors in both of them are British. 

Lars and the Real Girl— While certainly not for everyone, I loved the spirit of this movie and the performances were great. Surprisingly clean for a movie in which one of the major characters is a sex doll. Perhaps that deserves a bit of explanation. Lars is a loner living a very quite life in his brother and sister-in-law’s garage apartment. He begins “dating” Bianca, a sex doll he ordered through the internet. Upon the advice of their family doctor, Lars’ family and friends go along with it. I love the dig at modern medicine and its propensity to want to drug everyone in sight and the message that love and acceptance can be the ultimate healer. And this isn’t Hollywood “If you don’t agree with me, then shut up!” acceptance. It’s acceptance motivated by genuine sympathy and compassion. There are even multiple positive Christian folk in the movie. That has to be a first!

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Faith, Film, and Philosophy

By Jim Spiegel

The other day I received some good news from one of my publishers, InterVarsity Press.  The book I co-edited with Doug Geivett last year, Faith, Film, and Philosophy, is going into a second printing.  This is gratifying because it means the book is selling at a decent clip.  The responses of our readers are more important than sales, of course, but it’s always nice to know that your book is not wasting your publisher’s efforts and expenses.  The folks at IVP, especially Andy LePeau and Gary Deddo, believed in this project from the outset, and Doug and I are indebted to them for getting behind our vision for the book.  It feels good to see that support rewarded.

In case you’re not familiar with Faith, Film, and Philosophy, the book features essays by fourteen philosophers (including Doug and myself), each which discusses a film (or two or more) from a Christian perspective.  The films discussed include dramas, comedies, documentaries, and horror films—classic and contemporary, domestic and foreign.  And the philosophical issues explored range across many of the major areas of philosophy, such as epistemology, philosophy of mind, ethics, and philosophy of religion.  Contributors include James Sennett (on Citizen Kane), David Hunt (on The Matrix), Ron Tacelli (on horror films), Win Corduan (on Hong Kong films), and Dallas Willard (on American Beauty, Cider House Rules, and Pleasantville).

Doug has put together a website featuring more information about the book and other content related to film and philosophy:  http://www.faith-film-philosophy.com/.  When I complete work on my current project—a Philosophy introductory text—I’ll have more time to contribute content to that website, such as film reviews.  But Doug already has some interesting stuff posted.  I recommend checking out Doug’s blog as well.

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Moral Silver Linings in a Dark Economic Cloud

By Amy Spiegel

Like the worst of rubber-neckers passing a twenty car pile up on the interstate, I have watched our nation’s recent economic turmoil with a strange mixture of sorrow, fear and (here comes the strange part) relief. I feel genuine sorrow for those who find themselves without work or facing difficult decisions regarding their homes and futures. Several years ago, Jim and I were the victims of fraud and faced the serious possibility of owing two mortgages that we could not have possibly paid. I was pregnant with Bailey at the time and remember the sense of dread that hung over us at the prospect of being without a home just as we were starting our family. Through the years, we have faced lean times and while I can’t fully know what it is to be without work, I hope I have enough empathy to grieve with those who are grieving now. Though I strongly disagree with his basic philosophical assumptions, one thing I have already learned from President-Elect Barack Obama is that I have not cared for the poor of my country or been shamed by their neglect as I ought to be.

While thinking of others, I also think about myself and my family. What sort of country will my kids be living in? This is a generation of Chuck E. Cheese-goers who, though not living in an affluent home by our national standards, certainly have not known great want. Their idea of going hungry is Mommy saying no to that third pack of fruit snacks and deprivation is having to eat Thanksgiving leftovers four days in a row. How will they respond when called upon to make real sacrifices? As all the things we take so much for granted now become more and more a luxury, how will I respond?

But like I said, while the feelings of distress and concern have certainly dominated my consciousness of late, I have been surprised by feeling of liberation it has brought as well. Perhaps an illustration will help. Toothpaste. Dental hygiene naturally comes to mind whenever one is discussing global economics, right? When I stroll through the aisles of my not-so-local superstore, I am amazed at the number of not only brands but sub-brands of toothpaste. Now I appreciate minty breath and a healthy smile as much as the next gal, but come on. I will not waste your time with an enumeration of them all, but this is an area of our economy that perhaps could use a little trimming. Pre-stock-market-plummeting-face-first-into-the-sidewalk-of-Wall Street I would have felt compelled to stand for a good five minutes, muttering to myself about which brand was best suited to meet our needs. Now? I know exactly which brand is best suited: the cheapest. The same goes with my kids’ clothes. For years now, we have been blessed with a large quantity of hand-me-downs, especially for the boys. I usually relied on these for the basics and threw in some new stuff to make sure they didn’t look too shabby. I have found myself caving to social pressures and double-checking for stains and holes, especially if we were headed anywhere near a GapKids which I personally think is designed to make everyone feel like Raggedy Anns in order to convince you that it really is reasonable to purchase a $30 pair of jeans for a child who will outgrow them the minute you leave the store. Now? I wave to those fashion fascists and their overpriced goods as I stroll past holding the hand of my not so neatly dressed, but nonetheless cool, kid. (Okay, so I sometimes do go in, but only when there is a really big sale and mostly for Maggie, because girl stuff is too fun not to buy.)

If the predictions are true and things are only going to get worse, there will be plenty of opportunities for economizing. But rather than crying in your Starbucks mug over your lost lattes, embrace the freedom of less being more. And remember this, our country’s twenty car pile up still looks a lot better than most. Count your blessings and smile, even if your teeth aren’t super-bright.

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Spiegel’s Pick for Band of the Year

By Jim Spiegel

I recall reading a review of the Smiths’ 1986 album The Queen is Dead in which the writer gushed about the lyrical genius of their front man—a very young Steven Patrick Morrissey. The reviewer’s closing line stuck with me, because it rang true and because it struck me as a particularly bold prediction. “This guy,” he said regarding Morrissey, “is going to be around for a long time.” Well, over two decades later, Morrissey is still churning out great records and has proven to be one of rock music’s finest songsmiths. It all seems so obvious now, but how could that reviewer have been so sure?

Recently, I’ve come to a similar conclusion regarding the frontman of another band, coincidentally upon the release of their third studio album (as TQID was for the Smiths). The band is the Killers, and the frontman and main lyricist is Brandon Flowers. It wasn’t until last year that I purchased my first Killers album—their debut, Hot Fuss, by which I was pleasantly surprised, especially by the quality of songwriting. It didn’t take long for me to recognize that “Mr. Brightside” and “All These Things That I’ve Done” were instant classics and that there was an artistic vision here that transcended the band’s pop icon status. (Remember, folks, even the Beatles were very popular AND—eventually—avant-garde artists. And no, I don’t mean to put the Killers on the same level as the immortal Liverpudlians.)

Next, I picked up Sam’s Town, the Killers’ tepidly received sophomore effort, which is as underrated an album as I know of—though it certainly has its flaws (mainly the ill-advised “Enterlude” and “Exitlude,” the cheerful moods of which clash with the somber themes on the rest of the album). Sam’s Town, too, has its gems, including “Read My Mind” and the title track. But most significantly this album demonstrated the band’s willingness to explore and evolve, musically as well as lyrically. Certain thematic patterns also began to emerge, most notably Flowers’ disillusionment with fame and his sense of mortality—which is particularly acute for a guy in his mid-twenties.

With their latest release, Day and Age, the Killers have hit their stride, both in terms of matching musical form to lyrical content (the album has a strong dance vibe, owing to the production of Stuart Price) and in terms of songwriting subtlety. There are more instant classics: “Human,” “Neon Tiger,” and “Spaceman.” The latter of these is an especially brilliant piece of songwriting, as Flowers deftly uses an alien abduction as a metaphor for the corrosive effects of fame. And the ambiguous “Neon Tiger” might refer to the band themselves as they wrestle with the temptations of their own celebrity:

Far from the evergreen of old Assam
Far from the rainfall on the trails of old Saigon
straight from the poster town of scorn and ritz
To bring you the wilder side of gold and glitz

But neon tiger there’s a lot on your mind
They promised just to pet you, but don’t you let them get you
Away, away, away
Under the heat of the southwest sun

This sounds like a self-exhortation—from and for a band that hails from the “town of scorn and ritz”—Las Vegas. Ironically, in spite of the superficiality of their hometown, this is a band that does have “a lot on [their] mind.” Will they eventually succumb to the cruel vortex of fame and the relentless demons of celebrity? Time will tell. But for now, Brandon Flowers seems resolute in his will to resist, all the while growing as a songsmith. At this rate, it would appear, this guy is going to be around for a long time.