Banned Books Week

This week is banned books week. There's an interesting story from NPR on banned books on my RSS feed to the right under NPR Books, entitled: 'Grapes Of Wrath' And The Politics of Book Burning'

Here is a list of banned/challenged books: http://title.forbiddenlibrary.com/

October is National Arts and Humanities Month

Guys,
I don't know about you, but I believe Americans are really beginning to forget the value of the arts. We don't have time for theatre, literature, dance, and the like, any more. We want big action packed movies, 30 minute tv dramas, and reality shows. But let us not forget that we have to keep the arts flourishing lest we become hardened drones. Do what you can to get your kids involved in the arts; promote the arts whenever possible. See a play and turn off the television and read, even if for only 30 minutes a day.



What is National Arts and Humanities Month?
"National Arts and Humanities Month (NAHM) is a coast-to-coast collective celebration of culture in America. Held every October and coordinated by Americans for the Arts, it has become the largest annual celebration of the arts and humanities in the nation. From arts center open houses to mayoral proclamations to banners and media coverage, communities across the United States join together to recognize the importance of arts and culture to citizen's daily lives," according to the Web site: http://www.americansforthearts.org/get_involved/advocacy/nahm/default.asp

By mom's request

Here is an essay I wrote that mom wanted to read.


The Road to Autumn
Erik Green
ENGL 410
Dr. North
9-15-08
Oh the leaves, are they not yet yellow? I see their green hues changing slightly like an aging apple. The wind, does it not yet carry a chill? I feel a tease, a taste, a whisper, like a first kiss, blowing through the window. No, summer has not yet cooled, and my muse-- the wondrous autumn-- isn't dancing in her marvelous red dress. Yes, the rays still beat madly upon my face, begging for my attention. I see that blasted ball of fire; I feel the waves of its furnace. It is like a child in need of its mother, a lover who has lost its mate. In October its will shall surely wane; it shall calm its violent eyes. But it’s September, and the burn is still real, the earth is still warm, and my muse still eludes me.
I remember an October morning and the last time I saw the muse. The sun, according to my watch, was sleeping late that day. Cars, like mine, awoke, and their lights illuminated creation like an amateur filmmaker with a cheap movie camera. In the Kangaroo Mart on the corner of “Some Road” and “Such-and-Such-Drive,” I watched a middle aged trucker with candy corn teeth and a mullet flirt with a young clerk with pretty eyes, brown hair, and broken dreams. Coffee pots burbled, and energy drinks were being peddled — two for three bucks. I took decaf. I drove on, past the stucco fast food joints and the feed-and-seed store, through one stoplight and then the next. I was ushered through town by the wind; its marvelous fingers maneuvered leaves of red and yellow across the ground like soldier crabs scurrying to the ocean. The sky was enchanting at daybreak, when clouds parted to reveal a black canvas being overtaken by splotches of orange and red. Outside, old men in fedoras and pressed suits walked with canes up sidewalks, while fit Presbyterian mothers in bicycle shorts and toboggans chatted on their cell phones and pushed their infants around the block. Manicured yards, like chain link fences, lead from one ranch house to another to another, and through dark windows televisions flickered the morning news. The old courthouse at the intersection was still pretty, though the inside was wrecked, which was analogous of the town.
I turned left, and there before me stood Fort Mountain, rising through the morning fog like the spire of a great castle. I passed the last hayfield where fescue grass and alfalfa were rolled into great bails. It reminded me of my childhood in Alabama and the peace that I’d found there in the little things: sweet tea, front porches. I thought of those hills covered in pines, red maples, and elm and the fog that rolled through the hollows in the morning. I missed that English style barn that was built long before I was born and the tin corn crib that ached and creaked under the stifling heat. I missed flinging a fishing rod over my shoulder and walking into the backwoods where bluegill and channel cats were as plentiful as biting flies. I missed the buzz of bicycle tires whirling underneath me on the aged blacktop, and the country store where everybody knew me when I walked in. I missed the smell of axle grease coming from underneath that old red Farmall tractor, and I missed dad as well. He died before I could spend another autumn with him, but we spent many together on that farm, cutting logs, mending fences, and raking the endless piles of browning leaves. How I missed that man.
Ahead I drove, and the car climbed and winded its way higher and higher along a road with dandelion yellow road signs that warned of sharp curves and perilous ravines. Seldom did I meet another car, and time marched slowly at thirty five miles per hour. I pulled off on a widened shoulder, got out and walked to the face of the bluff. Down below, the town’s buildings looked like Monopoly pieces scattered on a vast, green, living room floor. The sun stood like the head of a sunflower, a dull red in the gray sky. Below my feet, the tops of oak trees seemed to have no idea that something could be looking down upon them; they didn’t seem curious at all. I kicked a stone down the side of the cliff, but it did not rouse them. I drove on, and came to East Ellijay and then Ellijay, and I laughed at how a town so small could be divided into named parts. It took me a moment to find the orchard road, but I came to it and headed east. I saw the orchard on the right and stopped in. The cider press was pumping, and pretty girls were packing apples into baskets, and families were filling bags with Rome Beauty, Pink Lady, Golden and Red Delicious, and Granny Smith apples. Out back, acres of apple trees stood like soldiers in orderly rows, and people picked as many apples as they could carry. I bought a pint of apple butter, a quart of sorghum and then drove on, down the long, blacktop road to the pumpkin farm. As I went, I imagined that Charlie Brown and Linus lived there, and I could almost hear them talking about the Great Pumpkin. They would have liked it there, because it seemed like their kind of place.
The pumpkin farm was a scientific marvel, at least in my mind. There were pumpkins so big that they could devour a small child if they had the inclination and the jowls to do so, but those hadn’t been carved into them yet. People used wheelbarrows to haul them out, and they strained and grunted all the way. I was able to find the perfect one for the porch and one or two others that were suitable for pumpkin pie. Nearby there was a barn full of Indian corn — the kind with purple and red kernels — and children marveled at how corn on the cob could change color. Yes, autumn lived there, and I was thrilled to see her.
As I drove on, I thought about how the year had passed so swiftly, and I realized that winter would soon be upon us again. Though I had my muse in my arms, I already missed her. She never stayed long enough to ease my soul, and all I did in winter, and spring, and summer was mourn for her. I drove until I found a walking trail and a lone tree, and I sat with her for a long time. The beauty of the trees was spellbinding. It was like they all had gone to town and bought the best and brightest coats. They stood, dignified, like a tenor making his final bow, tears rolling down his eyes. Soon their leaves would fall, and they would stand naked and revealed, and they would look old and poor. Everything felt alive to me in that moment, when the breeze was strong and the tall grass blew on a facing meadow. There is some mysticism to the autumn; it is like tales of wizards and Camelot, or satellite images of deep space — a mystery. I lay back and rested my head on my hands and watched the blue, crystalline, afternoon sky as red and purple leaves blew around in circles, then landed gently on the lawn. Oak trees had orange leaves; maple leaves were red, yellow, and orange, and dogwood leaves were red-brown. I drove away from that place where autumn lived, but she came with me, and she spread throughout my town.
That evening my wife brought me coffee, and we sat on our front porch and looked at the sky as the sun began to set. We watched as mountains pulled blankets of cloud over themselves for the night, and I wondered if children mistook the blinking lights of airplanes for stars. On those cool evenings when the mosquitoes were long gone, and the sun was in bed early, I was most happy; I could see God. Inside, a football game was on, and the smell of cider permeated the air. Children somewhere were imagining stories about black cats and jack-o’-lanterns, and the wind was stirring the trees in a hundred backyards. It was the muse; it was autumn, rousing them all, as she danced and darted through her earthly playground. Truly she was a magical and mystical creative spirit, a gift of God.

Copyright © Erik Green 2008

The bad bad day

I saw this cloud while I was standing outside today doing the crossing guard job. It should have served as a warning, because this has been the worst day of my working life at MCHS. I hope to still be employed at the end of the day. Just pray for me.

Everything worked out, so thanks for praying...

See You at the Pole

Praise the Lord, we had a great turn out this morning for See You at the Pole at Murray County High. There were probably 30 kids, and some staff, out there. Around 7:00 a.m. I was beginning to get worried that maybe I would be the only one standing out there, but by 7:20 there was a nice turnout. And the good part was that many of the other kids in the school had to walk past us to go in the door. Hopefully they were able to see God in the faithfulness of the students and staff. The students led prayer and sang a couple of songs, and one girl read several passages from the Bible. It was nice. Just when I was beginning to think that most kids were completely blind and deaf to the Gospel, these kids made me see otherwise. Monitoring In-School Suspension can make you bitter towards kids, but it was great to see that there are still so many kids with good hearts and a desire to do right and please God. Thank God for their parents. Love you guys!
Erik

PS...Pray for me guys, because this year of ISS has been awful. I am finding it very hard to show the love of Christ while being a firm, and often times very firm, teacher.

prayer

Guys,
Be praying for me today. It would have been my dad's 73rd birthday today, so I am a little down. Also, Angie and I are going to the doc on Thursday for routine check ups, but we HATE going to the doctor. Pray for us that God will give us strength to face whatever the doc has to tell us. Love ya'll.
Erik

4DL

Here's a look at the guys opening for Casting Crowns in Dalton, Four Days Late! I feel like a proud papa haha.

SETNTD #31

Don't forget to be praying for all the team members and candidates preparing for Tres Dias No. 31!!

I've now seen it all

Well my first day back to school has been fairly uneventful thus far, but I do have one story which made me laugh. You all will remember the days when you put your boyfriend/girlfriend's picture behind a clear plastic sheath on the cover of your notebook. Well, one girl in my class today has a picture of her boyfriend all right...his MUG SHOT!!!!! Yes, she looks fondly into the eyes of her dear sweet felon all day. Ay yay yay!

In other news, God is really awesome! Of course, you knew that. He is just filling us up with strength day to day, and holding us close to Him. Angie and I are really having to turn to Him, and that is what He wants. We are praying that He will show us His plan daily.

My new personal email is thewayisjesus@gmail.com Our family email is greenfamily08@windstream.net

casting crowns concert

I was going to spread the word that my best buddies are in a band called 4 Days Late and they are opening for Casting Crowns when they come to Dalton on Sept. 20. Check them out at fourdayslatemusic.com

Here's a couple pics of dad

thanks

On behalf of our family, I would like to thank everyone who has shown honor to my (our) dear father during this time. Dad was one of those people who loved everyone for who they were, and never had a negative word to say about anyone. He was a Christian first and foremost. He was a loyal husband, a kind and gentle father, and a doting grandfather. He was a hard worker, a true lover of his fellow man, and selfless above all things. As I look back on my time with him, I will always remember his smile, and his big catcher's mitt hands, but most of all his genuine humility. He was a true gem, a vessel of God's love, and we will dearly miss him.
Erik

Arrangements for dad

The arrangements for my dad are as follows: visitation will be Thursday from 6-9 p.m. at First Baptist Williams (Jacksonville, AL); the funeral is Friday at 11 a.m. at FBC Williams. For you mapquesters, FBC Williams is located at 5579 Nesbit Lake Road, Jacksonville, AL 36265.

Thank you all so much for your prayers and thoughts. Dad was 72, three weeks from his 73rd birthday. Angie and I were blessed to spend this past weekend with him and mom, so God is so awesome for allowing us that chance to see him one last time. Dad was a fine Christian, so we have NO DOUBT that he is with Jesus now. If I was a betting man, I would say he and my uncle Happy are investigating a fishing hole or two up there. I know he was so happy to see Happy again. Mom is doing OK right now; she is having to keep her chin up during all the commotion. She broke down some last night, but she was just singing a hymn a few minutes ago. She is a fine Christian as well. Dad had been complaining of dizziness over the weekend and so when Angie and I left, my sister took him and mom to the doctor. The doc checked him out thoroughly and sent him home. They'd arranged heart exams, etc. The next morning he was feeling worse, so they called the ambulance to come and get him and he had a heart attack about two miles into the trip to the hospital. The paramedics tried to revive him for an hour and a half, before he finally died. I have two older sisters, two nieces and a nephew, so please continue praying for strength. We love you guys.
Erik