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Much of Englewood, including my house, has been without power since early Sunday morning. Aside from having to drink more milk than I have since I was in elementary school, having no power for one day was not calamitous. Actually, being incommunicado was refreshing. Plus, I found wandering around the house by candlelight to be quaint, even romantic. However, each successive day without power leads to further inconveniences (e.g., cold showers, spoiled food, a garage door that won't open). Unfortunately, last night I had to leave Sandy in the dark (literally) to head back to Princeton for the final week of summer classes. Luckily, my Princeton apartment has power. My phone and laptop are charged, the light comes on when I flick the switch, and the water is even uncomfortably hot, but I have to ask myself, what will I really do with all this power ? *Yes, I believe that is a poster of a young Kim Jong-Il (or one of his sons) in the second scene. And sorry, but this song has be...

All of my tenants (as well as Sandy) are riding out the hurricane by watching TV in their respective rooms. I'm sitting in the dining room flipping through my Greek lexicon trying to translate 1 John from Greek into English in preparation for next week's daily translation quizzes. A small part of me is hoping that the power goes out so that I can continue by candlelight for that authentic early second century experience.

Unless you've experienced at least 35 or so revolutions of the Earth 'round the sun, or you're a fan of the Baltimore Orioles (or both, as I am), you probably have never heard of Mike Flanagan. He was one of the Orioles' best pitchers back when the Orioles were one of baseball's best franchises. This was the late 70s/early 80s, when my interest in baseball was at its peak. Last night I was listening to the Orioles game on MLB.com when word broke that his body was found outside his Maryland home. The news grew worse today when it was revealed that he apparently took his own life. It hasn't been easy being even an intermittent Orioles fan for the last 14 years, but it became even harder yesterday.

One year ago today I resigned from my office job to go on this quixotic seminary experience. (In my writer's paranoia, I had to look up "quixotic" to make certain that it fit precisely what I want to say--"exceedingly idealist; unrealistic and impractical"--yup, that about captures it.) Honestly, I haven't regretted for a nanosecond that decision, although I do have a fond remembrance of those bimonthly paychecks.

I recently watched the 1998 Coen Brothers film, The Big Lebowski , and it immediately became one of my all-time favorite comedies. While not a huge hit at the time of its release, this film has become a cult classic. Only yesterday I heard a few fellow seminarians quoting from it (and Arrested Development , another classic), which caused me to search YouTube, where I found this synopsis from the New York Times (leave it to the NYT to stitch together the few minutes of film that did not contain any swearing). I think the reviewer hits the nail on the head in identifying my own reasons for liking this film--the combination of Raymond Chandler and Don Quixote, as well as the soft underbelly of these rather gruff characters. As I said, the film remains popular, especially with audiences who were too young to see it in 1998. This very night--in fact, this very minute--there is a cast reunion taking place at Hammerstein Ballroom in NYC, which is being streamed online.