Okay, okay, an update on our 10 days in the Pacific Northwest, but first a road trip update from Laura, a Tessera friend of mine who was driving across the country at the same time we were tooling around the Northwest (her update is better than mine, storywise):

On Aug 4, 2005, at 10:47 AM, Laura Cave wrote:
The trip was relatively smooth, aside from a little "shortcut" that turned out to be anything but short. The conversation went something like this:

L: Traffic? I left LA to get AWAY from the traffic. Who knew so many people lived in Salt Lake City?
J: Hey, I know! We can take this little grey road on the map here. We'll go AROUND the traffic!!
L: Great idea!

(minutes pass)

J: It looks like we're heading toward the mountains.
L: I bet we go in between the mountains...
J: Yeah, the grey line goes straight over to this red line. Probably won't be much longer...

(minutes pass and we arrive at the guard shack on the edge of a national park)

L: Excuse me, miss? We were trying to get to Rt. 189. Are we going the right way?
Miss: Oh yeah, just down the street about 17 miles.
L: Okay, thanks!

(we pass minutes and a sign with a twisty arrow)

L: Boy, this is getting twisty. How are you doing over there Jas? Do you have a stomach ache?
J: No.
L: Do you have a headache?
J: No. I have no physical ailments. I'm just FREAKING OUT! There is a 50 foot sheer drop over here.
L: But look how pretty it is! Isn't this better than sitting in traffic?
J: No.
L: Look at the little brook on the side of the road!
J: I'll look, you don't look, you drive!

(we pass minutes and sign that says no passing or stopping next 11 miles)

L: Wow, this road is getting really narrow.
J: Maybe you should let me drive.
L: There's nowhere to pull over. Do you want to get hit and watch the car roll off the mountain?
J: No.
L: Oh look, there's a deer in the meadow! Do you see it?
J: No.
L: You don't see it?!
J: Just WATCH THE ROAD!
L: Okay, geez...

(we pass minutes and a sign that says ROAD DAMAGE)

L: You'd think they would just fix the road instead of putting up a permanent sign that says ROAD DAMAGE.
J: Yah.

You get the idea. Eventually we came to another guard shack where the girl casually informed us that 189 was just another 7 miles down the street. We then switched and Jason got to make me nervous for a change. Moral of the story: NEVER TAKE THE GREY ROAD!
— Laura

Actually, Laura's story has convinced me to ALWAYS take the grey road . . . unless I have my wife in the car, or am trying to beat a deadline, or have any doubts about the offroadworthiness of my vehicle . . .

Our own road trip reminded me of a "parallel tracks" concept that someone was telling me the other day. He says life is less like a series of hilltops (good times) and valleys (hard times), and more like railroad tracks, the good and the bad paralleling each other. Its up to us which rail we will draw energy from (positive or negative).

During our trip, our parallel tracks rollercoastered all over the place. We covered almost 3000 miles in twelve days. Delights and griefs, encouragement and terror, were all mixed together. Here's one sample of each of those feelings:

• It was a delight to attend Kathryn's 20th high school reunion in Longview, WA. Friday night the class met at Rutherglen Mansion for an evening of hors d'oeuvres (or "finger food" in mill town parlance) and an open bar, just a fun social time to catch up with each other. Saturday 11am-4pm was family time at a local park by the Columbia river. Lots of kids of all ages, from older teens down to toddlers and babies; folks shared their picnics so that it became an impromptu potluck, participation optional (most of us brought way too much food, those who did not bring enough wound up with plenty— even one lady with two young kids who brought nothing, thinking she could buy burgers and fries nearby. She was wrong! But the loaves and fishes of others proved more than enough.
• It grieved us to see Kathryn's 92 year old grandmother so shrunken and decaying (literally: 30+ maggots were extracted from her gangrenous foot), eyes wide with sadness and fear, thirsting for hope.
• It was encouraging to spend time with Kathryn's old friends, particularly the Gentrys, who shared their home, their food, their dog, their kids with us. Ted Gentry even shared his birthday party with Nic, upon whose actual birthday Ted's party happened to fall.
• It terrified Kathryn to watch a heavy tool drop from a truck at 75mph, bounce off the freeway and come hurtling through the dark straight toward her as she was driving. The impact shivered the whole van, and the sound of exploding glass frightened the kids too. It hit the exterior mirror, not the windshield or driver-side windows. The mirror was whacked flat against the driver's window and all the mirror glass was gone, except the tiny particles embedded in the rubber trim around the driver's window and even in the window glass itself.

These are just a sample of the many delights, griefs, encouragements of the past two weeks (there's only one other terror that I can think of). I'm drawing energy from the delights and encouragements, using it to fuel my response to the grief, and letting the terrors drip away and evaporate.

Life is good! But only because its Author is too.

On the road again, this time for a two-week road trip through the Pacific Northwest, visiting Kathryn's family. Bill & Diane Fuller (her mom and stepdad) are going to be our base of operations, but we will also attend Kathryn's 20-year high school reunion and visit other family and old friends of hers.

We especially look forward to seeing Kathryn's grandmother Quinica, who is 91 years old and in frail health.

I will try to keep up with email while we are on the road (thank goodness for wi-fi hotspots), and might even be able to blog now and then.

Enjoy what's left of the summer!

Hurray! Bob announced yesterday that we have passed our soil compression tests at last! He plans to start digging the foundation on Friday (tomorrow)! Part of me can't believe it until I see it. Anyone interested in being there at the "groundbreaking" better call me quick. Bob likes to get an early start.

Please do pray for this house which we might actually build at last. It is a parable of human life: a physical presence, empty and meaningless except for the life that dwells in it.

May that life be full, warm, broad and strong, intimately connected with God, with our neighborhood, with USC, and with the wider world!

The Tessera team is writing about why we are writers, or want to be writers, what desires or purposes motivate our writing— more plainly, "Why write?"

My answer is many-layered. I see objective reasons why writing needs to happen, and some of it is my responsibility. I also have subjective reasons for writing more than other people do; and hidden personal reasons why I cannot stop.

Ideas, stories and facts are so powerful, they determine the course of lives, communities, cultures, civilizations. Yet they are so fragile and fleeting, they are lost, often irretrievably, unless they are written down. It is the writing of them that clarifies them, contextualizes them, makes them durable, transmittable, critiquable. An odd exception to this is if the ideas, stories and facts are false: then they seem to take on a life of their own (gossip, for instance) and the attempt to record them can sound like a threat. ("Can I have that in writing?") So to preserve what is good and true, and refute what is evil or wrong, we must write. Writing must happen.

And I am one of those who must do it. I love the magic of language. Some children took apart lawn mowers or televisions or radios, to see how they worked: I diagrammed sentences and pulled apart paragraphs. Certain words seemed to sparkle like precious gems: as I grew older they drew me to etymology, the adult version of my childish fascination.

The only thing better than taking others’ words apart was putting my own words together. After reading a good book I would try to write a sequel, or develop a minor character's backstory, or rewrite the ending I did not like. Sometimes I took different storyworlds and knitted them together: Conan adventuring in Barsoom, or Tarzan and Luke Skywalker teaming up against the White Witch of Narnia. Yup, I was an odd kid. Not a loner, but often lonely, I found solace and significance in stories. Enjoying them. Creating them.

But sometimes I write only because I have to. Not just papers for school or projects for work (though there are plenty of those). Sometimes emotion wells up so strongly that if I do not write it will make me physically sick. Much of my poetry has been inspired by soul-ache that demanded catharsis. If I can express it adequately in poetry or story, I can exorcise the demon, lance the swelling boil, and find relief.

Metaphor (in poetry or story) also works the opposite direction in me: sometimes I write a poem not to expel an emotion but to spark one, to fuel a feeling I ought to have, but don't. Something is broken in me, and I must prime the pump of humanness to feel all that a human ought to feel when faced with the grand tragicomedy of life. Compassion. Gratitude. Awe. Humility. Most often it's Love I have to stoke.

Finally, I write because I MUST. This is different from “having to” in that it comes from inside, but not from me. It is an inner pressure on the soul from an outside source. In a previous post about being a freelance writer I took a stab at describing this feeling:
"...words ideas stories coursing through me, jumbling, pressing, pushing until I MUST write write write for relief release reward, returning to replenish the pressure, feed fascination— CAUTIOUSLY for from the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks, the hand writes, the mind revises. I must be the person God intends me to be, so that which I create is blessing not curse, honorable not shaming, to me or to Him."

Part of the MUST is that this is my purpose, what I was created to do, enjoy, crave.
Part of the MUST is the overflow of the heart.
Part of the MUST is the purpose of God. If I contribute anything of eternal significance to this world, writing will play some role in it— and writing may play a large role, if only I will steward it as it deserves.

Being able to write, and having something to say, is both a gift and a responsibility. Ken Archer says "knowing truth is an intellectual virtue; telling or not telling it is a moral virtue." The weight of duty is the keel of my soul, the longing for significance is my mainmast. I spread my sail, a clean sheet of paper or an empty field on a computer screen, and as far as it lies within me to do so, I fill it with the wind that God blows through my being.

In the end, then, I guess I am nothing more than a windbag.

Sorry for the long hiatus. I have been away to two different summer camps two weeks in a row: first week to Campus By the Sea (see my belated post of last week, now completed and made public), second week to THE OAKS (World Impact's camping and conference center).

Both were great fun, both enjoyed a small army of talented high-energy short-term program staff, but beyond that, the contrasts were huge.

CBS, in a secluded cove on Catalina Island, wins the restful-seclusion award. I brought a lot of work with me and had to do it all on paper: no electricity for my laptop, no internet access, no phone. But at the end of the week, despite the busy schedule and all my attempts to be productive (in hiding, as that's a no-no), I left there rested and ready to face the world again.

THE OAKS, located along the San Andreas fault in the San Gabriel mountains north of Los Angeles, wins the delightful-craziness category hands down. Despite a decent showing in this area by CBS staff and campers (Talent Night had its high points of weirdness and touching moments), THE OAKS' morning games, cabin decoration competitions, fire circle madness, energizer songs (who in the world comes up with those?!), and surprisingly excellent high-energy skits... yes, THE OAKS was untouchable. But I left there exhausted, dusty and sweaty and had a nearly three-hour drive home (combination of battery trouble, bad traffic and my own idiocy: it should have been 90minutes)

(I also brought a lot of work with me to THE OAKS, and must give my sincere thanks to Sean McFeely and Paul Crockett for letting me use their offices to send and receive faxes, email, and do etymological research on their computers- YES! I finished all my research. THANK YOU)

Part of that contrast was the temperature: at least two days at THE OAKS, possibly three, I am sure it was over 100 degrees. No whining here— I'm an Arizona native and enjoy 100-degree weather, as long as I am not herding a wild pack of 1st and 2nd-graders through it. But despite its name, THE OAKS is not a forest-setting camp, but high Gabrielino desert; nice stubby manzanita trees with charming red bark, clearly from sunburn. Some strategically planted and now-enormous eucalyptus trees do provide some shade by the parking lot, and the cherry tree absolutely heavy with ripe sweet cherries (which the kids all used as ammunition rather than food) was a happy shady spot. Someone has sprung for air conditioning and swamp coolers in recent years too, I notice (good decision).

This is not an issue at Campus By the Sea. Cool ocean breezes blow in off the Pacific, and giant leafy shade trees are so common in the canyon, they obscure most of the buildings from view from the sea. Rather than dust everywhere at THE OAKS, the CBS staff keep dust down by spreading wood chips and bark bits everywhere; only the center of the main path through camp gets dusty by the end of the week. And having daily access to ocean activities and sports is hard to beat, though THE OAKS has a first rate swimming pool (the refuge of choice for all 200 kids every afternoon at free time! More high-energy craziness).

All this to say, I am so thankful to have both these refuges so close to where we live in Los Angeles. I look forward to many future years of attending them both with my kids.

And next time I'll leave the work at home.

Campus By the Sea Report:

"...and a good time was had by all" does not begin to encompass what a great week this was. The modernist in me wants to make lists and logical formulae to build a strong case; the postmodernist in me wants to regale you with stories. I will indulge a bit of each but keep most of both to myself, otherwise this post would be unpleasantly long.

Highlights:
1. Accommodations: All five of us Nelsons had Croaker Tent to ourselves, a big drab-yellow drafty canvas cavern with three bunk beds and a double bed, two crates for bedside tables, a broom, a trash can, and a wooden pole on which we hung our clothes. I loved it! We hung "bedside lamps" from the cotton webbing straps nearest our bed, and used the cotton clothesline-rope and bungee cords I brought from home to create a webbing to keep Joy safe in the top bunk she insisted was hers. [insert photos!]

2. Friends: we met several other families who love adoption and foster care, the Abuhameds, the Dismukes, and another cool family whose name I can't remember right now (leave a comment and I'll edit this to put you back in! Sorry) Plus we had time to catch up with Garth and Rosemary Dougan, long-distance friends of ours dating back 15 years. We got to know Paul and Jeri Dougan too, and their kids, and so many other people. My chief thought as I remember them all is "these are the people I want my kids to grow up around". I miss you guys already. [photo of our small group here]

3. The Hike into Avalon: Nathaniel and I left early, since last year we were the very last ones. As it turned out, the hike was much shorter this year and we needn't have worried: last year we took a wrong turn, it seems, and wound up hiking an extra few miles! Actually I would not have minded an extra few miles this time, as Nathaniel and I had a wonderful time making up a Middle Earth adventure: Gandalf must recover his stolen staff before the Star of Anor falls into the hands of Sauron's minions! Nathaniel wrote down as much of it as he could, later. If you are interested, I'll tell him and he may finish it for you. By request only! (otherwise I will enjoy my own personal copy all to myself)

4. The Food: oh my goodness. See the review.

5. The Teaching: Dr. David Hegg is a fellow Christian Hedonist and lover of the psalms, as I am. It is rare for me to feel like the keynote speaker is a kindred spirit. I hope to keep in touch with him, or at least renew our acquaintance where we left off, next time we meet. I'm sure we will, for some reason. Also, Paul and Virginia Friesen's teaching and book reviews are always a highlight, as was our breakfast with them on our last day. They also are old friends of ours, like the Dougans. Thank you both for the insights you gave us regarding Fjeldheim, among other things.

6. The Activities: see the review.

7. The Starlight Semi-Submersible: just as good as a real submarine trip, a great window to the marine life and kelp forests of Lovers' Cove. Great fun.

...Some of the highlights were actually "Disasters", all minor and humorous, but they just didn't look right being called "highlights":

1. We forgot to pack any underwear for Joy! She had to make do with what she was wearing, plus her swimsuit, plus some soft shorts, until our visit to Avalon (Kathryn and the younger kids met us there via shoreboat) when we bought new underwear for her.

2. Despite my precautions, Joy DID manage to fall out of bed in the middle of the night! Sort of a slow-motion avalanche of sleeping bag and blankets and stuffed friends. She was not hurt, did not even make it all the way to the floor, but was quite frightened. We put her back in bed and in the morning, extended the webbing system. [second bunk photo]

3. I was attacked by a flying fish while waterskiing! Actually the little fellow was spooked by the bow wave and zoomed off at a random angle away from the boat— unfortunately for him, it flew straight into my ankle as I slalomed across the wake. I saw it coming, but those things fly fast, and I had no time to react. It exploded over my ankle, I think it broke entirely in half! Blood and blue scaly skin-bits all over my shin. At first I thought some of it was my blood (it hurt some, but my feet were numb with cold, so I knew my sense of pain was not accurate) but a few more turns rinsed it all away. I escaped with an odd bruise above my ankle. Apparently one or two skiers per summer get hit by flying fish, but usually in the chest or thigh, and the fish are often unharmed. This was the first ankle-fish-explosion. What an honor.

4. Boat-Race Disaster: after spending much time and creative energy on our single-masted trimaran (made of random sticks found on the ground, a milk carton, four soda cans, packing tape and a section of plastic garbage bag for the sailcloth, plus a straight piece of bark for the rudder), Armando and I were crestfallen to see it pitch forward at the first strong gust of wind. We forgot ballast. The noble unnamed craft came apart about five minutes after capsizing. Fortunately I was right there on a boogie board to rescue her. Well, just wait till next year.

Yeah, that's right. Just wait till next year.

We can hardly wait.

Woohooo! Family vacation time! We leave today for Family Camp at Campus By the Sea! This is where I was baptized (in the ocean), where I worked after graduating from college, and where I proposed to Kathryn in 1990 (at the foot of the Cross, at the top of the ridge overlooking Gallagher's Cove). My proposing to Kathryn is quite a story, and some of you have heard us tell it. Always better when both Kathryn and I are telling it together, as our points of view radically differed.

Just last year, for the first time in many years (14?), we returned to CBS for Family Camp and LOVED IT. So we are managing to go again this year. Expect photos and stories when we return.

But until then we will be incommunicado. No cell phone reception, and no electricity or internet access at the camp. So I won't sit down at this keyboard again until July 10th, most likely.

Enjoy your summer!

Time for new background music. My original idea (and still my goal) is to feature a different songbite every month. This first one (Amazing Grace for one guitar, arranged and performed by Phil Epstein) has been on the site at least twice that long.

This month's song is "4a.m." from the album Mind Blossom, by Graffiti61.
I have been working till all hours of the night recently, so I have found myself going to bed occasionally around that time. This is a great song for that slice of night when you ought to be asleep but find yourself being creative and productive instead (best case), or staring down a deadline . . . or just staring, thoughts twirling in fruitless circles. This song suits all those moods. Great for long lonely road trips too. Doesn't mix well with conversation, though: it is very distracting, constantly, quietly interrupting and interesting you in something other than what is being said to your face. So use with caution.
Very few people have the interest, courage or skill to tackle the kind of ambient experimental music that Dominic (Graffiti61) does so well. This album, Mind Blossom, is my favorite ambient album so far. He does live shows too, which need to be experienced to understand. It’s more than just making unusual sounds. It’s emoting directly from the heart to the listening ear, and making all the complicated music theory, musicianship, high-tech gear and artistry go unnoticed, so the sense and essence come across pure and unadulterated.
Enjoy!

Okay, this is getting bizarre. The inner city seems to be stuck with low quality everything, from municipal services (though that has improved somewhat) to education (which, if anything, appears to have gotten worse) to business/investment etc. Now we discover that even the dirt under our feet is poor quality.

Back when we first purchased this lot on 37th Drive, one of the things that made it affordable was its location in an "earthquake liquefaction zone". That meant a soils engineer had to drill some samples and tell us how deeply we needed to excavate and recompact before we could dig and pour our foundation. The verdict: just 5 feet would be sufficient.

We dug it up, and using the same dirt, refilled and compacted it as we went... and ended up with a hole still. The dirt really compacted down tight! So we had to find dirt somewhere else to fill the rest of the hole. How about dirt from one of the city building projects right nearby? No, that is "bad dirt", won't compact well. Where do we go to get "good dirt"?

Pacific Palisades. Hollywood Hills. West LA. Apparently that side of LA even has better dirt than South Central. Maybe it's yet another parable-of-life. We are used to thinking of those as the "nice part of town" but I never thought I'd have to go shopping for their dirt.

So we fill the hole, twice, and the compacting still leaves it below grade! Somewhere nearby, an oil well must be recording higher pressure. Is my neighbor's garage rising slightly to one side? Were her roses' roots humped up like that already, or are we squeezing them right out of the ground like peas from a pod? Sheesh.

But we are awfully close now, just need one or two more truckloads, and we find some (Hollywood Hills this time). Soils guy okays them for our particular lot. We are told they are on their way. Bob waits almost four hours at the site (he brings other work with him to do in the truck). They never show up.

To make a long weird story short, OUR DIRT WAS HIJACKED. Bob tells me one of the drivers will likely lose his job over this, but they were paid off to dump the dirt somewhere else instead! (apparently the second driver was just following the first and doing what he was told) One friend suggested we cruise any suspect construction sites looking for "dirt that sparkles— you know, moviestar dirt". Very funny.

I am thrilled to belong to a tribe of souls that loves to explore and experiment. They are scattered in various communities around the world, but are gathering next year, right here in LA somewhere, to share stories and savor God together. And probably do other things too. Explore and experiment in some creative way, I imagine.

The good news: You are invited to check it out, see what it's like! Email me or leave a comment here for more info.