To The Metal

Today my father told me that he has cancer. It’s not his first run in with the disease. Maybe 10 years ago he fought bladder cancer, endured the treatment, and won. He’d gone back for regular checkups and monitoring to make sure everything was still OK.

Last week he told me that the doctors had found a spot on his lung. I didn’t think much of it. He’s 83, long out of warranty, who knows what it could be. I didn’t worry. I prayed. Every night I’d pray for the doctors to be granted wisdom so they could make the correct diagnosis and treatment for whatever was ailing my dad.

Today I found out that he has lung cancer, and that it was in his lymph nodes too. Now moments like these, I’d like to think that I’m the type of guy who would take a step back, take stock, a deep breath, and not worry. Instead I lost my breath, stared at my phone in shock for what felt like minutes. I went to go step outside and call, a friend stopped me.

She said “don’t call him like this. You panicking won’t help anyone.” She was right, so I sat and wept for a few minutes. I mentioned how much I’d like a drink right now, how in the past when things got difficult or emotionally draining, I’d break out the bourbon and sip it until I was either asleep, or no longer cared about what was bothering me.

I sat, got my bearings, and called my father. He told me what was going on, we laughed, he seemed in good spirits and mentioned that “acceptance” was part of why he felt the way he did. He didn’t sound worried or scared, although I’m sure that had to be in there somewhere. He was having something to eat and one of his “cheap beers.”

I got off the phone with him, and prayed. If he can keep his cool, so can I. I’d had plans to attend the leadership pathway course at Grace tonight, so I hopped in the truck and started driving. I think I made it about a mile before I started weeping again. I used to be a guy who sat on his emotions, I’m definitely not that guy anymore.

As I drove and the tears fell, I prayed. I thanked God for giving me 40 years with my father. I asked God to please give me a few more. “I’m not ready” I said. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready. When I was a little kid, I noticed that my parents were older than the other kids parents. They had me when they were in their early 40’s. I was a surprise.

It’s not what little kids should think about, mortality. Kids should focus on having fun, getting in trouble, breaking bones, making mistakes. Instead, every time my father slept I’d make sure he was still breathing. A couple years ago, I was helping my father split wood and we had one of those heart to heart conversations that we could only have as men.

I mentioned to him what I just said you you all, that as a kid, I knew my parents were older. Sitting here at 40, they really weren’t, but to a little kid like me, they were ancient. He started to get choked up as he spoke of his father. His father passed when he was 35 years old. At 83 he’s outlived pretty much every member of his extended family.

Still, he told me about how when his father slept, when he was a child – he’d constantly check to make sure that his dad was still breathing. For the first 30 years or so of my life I went head to head with my father. I didn’t quite “get” him. He was very old fashioned. What my friends got away with, I was chastised heavily for.

It wasn’t until I read his autobiography that I started to understand him. Raised in an orphanage because his parents couldn’t afford to raise him themselves, he grew up in a way and a place that no child should ever have to. What he endured at the hands of the church would be enough for anyone to walk away from the church and God.

Every other Sunday growing up, he brought me to Church. I didn’t get it. I sat in the pews and played with my hot wheels. As I got older I’d sit and listen, but I still didn’t get it. Sit, stand, kneel, shake hands, morals, structure, life. When I finally got a taste of freedom at 18, I ran away from the church like I was on fire.

Even in my rebellion though, I never really got into too much trouble. The morals and structure my father handed down to me was soaked into my very bones. Decades later when I would turn back to God and give my life to Jesus Christ, my father looked on. He used to ask me why he never heard God like I did. I didn’t really have an answer.

Still, I wanted everyone to feel the revival that I felt. My parents had been drifting from their church for some time, but part of me hoped that if I could testify to them of my experiences, and the place where I found God waiting for me, that they might just join me. 83 years old and my father never heard God, until that Sunday where he joined me.

“Stay with me” the pastor said. “Stay on the phone. Stay with me.” Stay with God. He’s almost there. He had just discussed the trials of Job and the hardships he endured… how through them all he never let go of his faith in God. As the tears welled up in my fathers eyes, he heard God that day, and finally knew that God hadn’t forgotten about him.

I see what my father went through all these years, and how despite every obstacle, he maintained his faith in God… and I finally understood him. He raised me the best he could. He raised me with hope and faith, and he lived to see me called back to Christ. Thank you God. Thank you Jesus.

Thank you for every single blessed day with my father, good, bad, and in between. Thank you.

Say to those who have an anxious heart, “Be strong; fear not! Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God. He will come and save you.”

I think my infatuation with The Terminator started back in 1991. I got invited with my cousins to see Terminator 2: Judgment Day. Now I hadn’t seen the first one yet, when it came out I was way too young, and any time it showed up on TV my folks stuck to their guns. Honestly it was probably the film that began my love of sci-fi in general.

What struck me most was the machine, more than the action, more than the story – that shiny metal hulk that saw things in infra-red and would never stop until it completed its mission. My school notebooks around the time T2 came out were filled with sketches of the Cyberdyne Systems Model 101. Most 13 year olds wanted a Nintendo, I wanted a Terminator.

To this day my home is full of Terminator movies, Terminator comics, Terminator books, Terminator toys, Terminator props. Some time in the near future if I have my way I’ll have an Endoskeleton standing guard over my stuff. Needless to say, I’m a fan. That brings us to the point of this post – the chaotic Terminator Cinematic Universe.

Now the original film, and its sequel have been discussed to termination, so I’m not going to circle back. What I will say is that after seeing Terminator Dark Fate tonight, thank God for James Cameron. It was the first Terminator film since Judgment Day that actually “got it.”

The only film in the saga which I truly hated was T3: Rise of The Machines. In concept, it was great. It meant to show us that Judgment Day was inevitable. I laughed way too hard watching T3, it wasn’t meant to be a comedy. As a fan, it was very disappointing… not to mention the only member of the original cast to return was of course Arnold.

T2 had very subtle humor, like when John and the T800 are racing to save Miles Dyson, John asks the Terminator if he “gets it” – why he can’t just go around killing people. The T800 looks at John and makes this face:

I’d seen the movie a dozen times before I really saw that scene, and I cracked up. When T3 came along, the director obviously thought that the envelope of slapstick cyborg action hadn’t been pushed far enough yet, so we got this:

Then came Terminator Salvation. This one really piqued my interest. Rumored to be the start of a new trilogy, it finally brought us into the future war. In my opinion – it was the best Terminator film right up until when they blew the ending. Prior to that, it took chances. No Arnold. No Sarah. It was all about the war that John was raised to fight.

The original ending (spoiler alert) involved John Conner dying, killed by the same model T800 (CGI Arnold). Marcus would become Conner since at that point he wasn’t a resistance leader, and most of the people who actually knew who he was were killed in the final act. This ending also would have eliminated the paradox that was Kyle Reese. Apparently focus groups (none of which were actual fans) didn’t like it.

Instead, we got a post apocalyptic heart transplant. Trilogy terminated.

Then we have 2015’s Genisys. Now when I first saw Genisys , I overlooked its glaring flaw and saw it as a sorely needed boot to the ass of the franchise. Most main characters had been recast with new blood (and I will never, ever complain about Emilia Clarke, ever), as the existing timeline which survived 4 films was reset.

Again, excellent execution right up to the 3rd act where it all goes wrong. This time, Sarah is raised by a T800, trained to fight, knows about the future, so when Kyle arrives in 1984, Sarah ends up saving him. It’s still a good story right up until this:

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind humor when it’s done well, but the humor in this scene is drowned out by the simple fact that when Terminator Genisys ended, EVERYONE LIVED. Where was the sacrifice? Sarah lived, The T800 comes back as a T1000, and Kyle Reese lived. John Connor hasn’t been conceived yet, and not only is the story pushed along by a paradox, the very final scene involves adult Kyle establishing that very paradox by having a chat on the farm with young Kyle. NO, NO, NO, NO, NO.

While it bugs me that the ending of Genisys was botched so badly that it didn’t even warrant continuation in comics (as was the case with Salvation), they were taking real chances with the franchise and absolutely blew it. They might as well have made it PG13. Oh wait, THEY DID. No wonder Arnold looked so uncomfortable in that shot.

So we come to Dark Fate. When the first trailer dropped, I was excited. Terminators who look like ordinary people! Sarah Connor is back! Explosions! Old Arnold! I was cautiously optimistic as I’d been burned before. The big difference here? James Cameron as involved. Not as a director, but just that his name was attached was enough to get me in a theater on opening night.

The rumor mill was abundant here, not only were James, Linda, and Arnold back, Edward Furlong has a cameo too. The band was getting back together, and it was going to be good. After seeing it, all I’ve got to say is…

Cameron and Miller went out of their way to avoid the mistakes made in T3, T4, and T5. There is action. There is a tolerable amount of humor. There is sacrifice. There is heart and redemption. There are also tons of Easter eggs for guys like me who still doodle the occasional T800 when they’re bored. Dark Fate stands on its own, and is the first film from the franchise that is a worthy successor to Terminator and Terminator 2.

To address the cybernetic elephant in the room though, this movie is not WOKE. It isn’t a female only reboot for WOKE people. It’s a Terminator film, probably the only true to the franchise Terminator film in nearly 30 years. In the original movie, Lance Henriksen was originally cast to play the Terminator:

They chose him initially because the Terminator wasn’t supposed to look like a 300lb Austrian body builder, the Terminator was supposed to look like anyone, an infiltrator capable of fooling humans well enough to kill them. Over the years, the machines have been portrayed by many people who were not the aforementioned Austrian. On top of that, do you recall who killed the first Terminator in 1984?

Both the heroes and villains of this franchise have been men, women, children of every single race, color, and creed. Sarah Connor in Dark Fate is what you’d expect a strong woman with a history of killing Terminators to be after 28 years of doing that job well. This movie was expertly written, exquisitely acted, and an absolute treat for the fans who have stuck with the franchise for 35 years.

I truly hope it does well and warrants a new story to tell in the vast (and mostly unexplored) universe that is The Terminator.

A few weeks ago, I picked up a copy of Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of The Christ.” Now I hadn’t actually seen this film for a good 15 years. I think I got it from Netflix on DVD at some point (it’s been a while). Back then I’m sure I “believed” but generally didn’t care. I think if anything, all the complaints of antisemitism made me curious. In the end, at that point in my life – it was just a movie.

When I was 25, I was busy clicking off every checkbox on the grand list of what NOT to do when it came to staying in the Lord’s good graces. Getting drunk, poisoning my body and mind with drugs, alcohol, pornography and fornication. You name it, I did it. Boy, I really thought I was living too. 15 years later, I am a different man. The path was long, but here I am at 40, I love and fear God above all else.

I’m still a sinner. I still do things that turn me away from God. The important thing is now I actively work to head off that sin and repent, turning back to my Creator. At times I’m still quicker to speak and anger than listening… I still succumb to irrational fears. Those are the times I realize veering off my path. There hasn’t been a single time that being prideful or fearful did NOT bite me in the ass.

My initial thought when I picked it up, was how it might impact the man I am today. I was scared, to be honest. Every time I saw it pop up in my queue, I selected something else to watch. Something with action. Something funny. I guess I needed to open a doorway into it, so I watched “The Art of Racing in The Rain.” If you’re a dog lover, or simply like a well written and expertly acted drama – I highly recommend it.

The Art of Racing in The Rain follows the story of Enzo, a Golden Retriever, and his master from being a puppy through to old age and looking forward to the next life. They weren’t overtly religious in the story, but you simply cannot deny the themes of love, marriage, sin, repentance, restoration, and hope woven throughout. Truth be told, once you look at the world through the eyes of Christ, you can’t see it any other way. Just how it is.

Once the movie was over (not giving any spoilers, seriously, watch it) the next in my queue was The Passion of The Christ. Ok, I’m in. My put my phone down, moved my laptop away, and committed to it. It’s one thing to hear the scripture interpreted for you by a preacher, or to read it from the Bible… It’s something else entirely to see it acted in front of you in high definition surround sound.

For the uninitiated, this movie covers the final 12 hours of Jesus’s life, from sweating blood at Gethsemane to his final breath on the cross, and His moment of resurrection. It. Was. BRUTAL. Watching soldiers laugh as they caned, then scourged Jesus (multi-ended whip with metal hooks on it)… Forced to carry his cross to Calvary (and seeing him embrace it). Beaten, tortured, ridiculed, yet even at the end praying for the men doing this to him.

That’s a very abbreviated summary, doesn’t even come close to describing what I saw. I knew what was coming the entire time, every moment covered in gruesome detail, and I WEPT. I’m not talking how I cried when the Terminator was lowered into the molten steel at the end of T2 Judgment Day, this was an ugly and emotionally draining cry. After seeing that representation… I finally get it, even more so than I thought I did before.

Jesus died for your sins! Such an easy thing to say, I don’t think many truly appreciate the gravity of what He endured for us. I couldn’t do it. Sacrifice my son for the sins of the world? In the heat of that moment I would sooner use my powers to annihilate his oppressors and free him. But I am most certainly not God… I’m just trying to follow His example. It’s not my job to understand, it’s my job to obey.

One message I took away from that film though… Something I need to take on myself, is to be more humble. Be humble like Jesus. I know I’ll never reach that standard, but I will try.

If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.

2 Corinthians 11:30

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.

Years ago when I bought my current home, I awaited the onslaught of the rodent menace as the outside temperature dropped. It wasn’t my first rodeo, I knew they’d get in no matter what I did, so I simply prepared to turn my home into a black hole of rodent death, only mentioned in hushed squeaks as they discussed which house had the best food.

I used to rely on those rat baits, you know the chunks of green mystery poison that was delectable to rodents. The way it works is, the mouse eats the food (which I believe is generally full of arsenic) which causes them to crap out their guts and hopefully leave the home before they die in search of water. In reality, they usually don’t make it, and it takes a long time for that smell to go away if you don’t feel like ripping up walls.

Next were tried and true neck snappers. Simple, ancient design, passed down through the generations. Bait on trap, spring loaded bar ends their life rather quickly. Still, they can be messy, and heaven forbid you forget to check them on a regular basis (raises hand). As a side note, should you use those, don’t get the plastic ones. After seeing one launch across the floor blindly with flailing legs, they’re no good.

Glue traps? No. Just no. That crap is cruel. Besides, after that scene in Nightmare on Elm Street 4, I’ll pass.

Last year I picked up a Victor M1 mouse trap. What’s so special about it? A simple black box with a hole in one end, bait in the other, and a pair of metal plates to walk across. With nothing more than 4 AA batteries, it will send 6000V of electricity through the rodent, killing it instantly. That’s not the special part. This thing goes on wifi, and you monitor it from an app on your phone. Flip the box open, toss out the mouse, and reset.

When I got 2 hits last week by the water heater in my utility room, I figured it might be a good idea to get a second one. Off to Amazon I go. Trouble is, the one I got had a busted wifi connection. Sure I can just click a few boxes at Amazon, get a refund, but usually I try to talk to the manufacturer. First things first, the login for the app doesn’t work on the website. It’s 2019 Victor, get on that.

I decided to try their live-chat feature. After a simple “bot” took some basic information, I wound up chatting with “Lauren.” Once I explained the situation, and that I went through all the troubleshooting procedures, she agreed to ship me out a new one free of charge. The old one? They don’t need it back, so I’ll probably take it apart and see if I can repair it.

The moral of the story? Victor mouse traps rule, their customer service is fantastic, and as a general rule of thumb – always talk to the manufacturer first when you need help.

When the chat ended… she said “Have a mice day!” I chuckled. 🙂

Back in 2001, when Microsoft released the original Xbox, the goal (as was with every console manufacturer) was to revolutionize things. To an extent, they did. The Xbox was really nothing more than a stripped down PC running a highly optimized OS dedicated to playing video games.

In its basic function, it’s basic goal, the Xbox was no different than the PS2, Dreamcast, Super Nintendo, and Atari 2600 that came before it. You plug a box into your television, add a game, apply electricity, and you’re on your way. Now before I go any further, I’m going to be over-simplifying things a bit here, so if I mis-state some technicality, keep reading because an accurate historical record is irrelevant to my over-arcing point here.

Now one of the great things about the original Xbox is how hackable it was. I knew several people who cracked it open, added a larger hard disk, installed Linux, and were able to not only play Xbox games, but any number of other emulated systems as well as watch downloaded movies and TV.

A light bulb must have went off at Microsoft, a green one, shaped like a $, not an X. When the 360 came out, it brought with it Xbox Live, Internet connectivity, and applications in addition to games. Not only could you shoot things, you could watch TV, listen to music, do any number of things. The Xbox was now a true media center.

The Xbox One took the same formula and turned up every metric to 11. What started as a simple gaming system could now interact with multiple devices, add external storage, download apps, games, movies, television, music, high def, etc… When it works, it’s a sight to behold, a marvel of modern technology.

Tonight I got home from a long day of work, exhausted. All I wanted to do was fire up my Xbox, maybe play some Borderlands 3, and continue catching up on Mr.Robot. I wanted to do what the console was created to do. Consider this – the games are stored on the console. The Amazon application is stored on the console. My Internet is working fine.

Long story short, Xbox core services at some datacenter far far away from my living room are broken. My Xbox can’t talk to Microsoft, so nothing I’ve bought and paid for here is working. I know I can watch Amazon from any number of other sources, but it’s the principle of the matter.

With all of this technological advancement, all this grand connectivity where humanity can reach out and touch pretty much anything, something has been lost. Right now I can throw a copy of Duck Hunt into my NES, and within mere moments I’m shooting digital ducks and cursing at a giggling dog. Regardless of what Nintendo of America is up to, I can play my games.

I won’t lie, I haven’t bought a physical game in years. I’m a big part of the problem. The ability to point, click, and play is truly a wonder of the modern world. The sacrifice is that unless everything is working 100% at a company miles away, I’m not playing my games. If something happens to that company, I have nothing to show for my years of investment.

The era of actually owning what I buy to entertain myself is effectively over.

Maybe I should read a book.

I digress.

</end_rant>

Had a long day of work today. The job I’m in, at least once a month I have an on-call shift which requires me to work all weekend. I’ve long since gotten used to it, I even enjoy the flood of things to fix. During a quiet spot I decided to test the bypass valve on my water softener. It’s a plastic valve that lets me bypass the device for maintenance, etc… Simple task that I’ve done before.

Turned the house feed to bypass, no problem. Turned the inlet to bypass, no problem. Turned the outlet to bypass.

BOOM.

Water exploded everywhere. The valve had gotten filled with silt and other…stuff which kept it from sealing properly. I killed the well pump from the breaker box (which is maybe 3 feet from the water gushing out, yes, I know)… Flushed the toilet, turned on the slop sink, turned on the kitchen sink, did my best to depressurize the system. I then hit the switch to depressurize the water softener tank.

As I ran around looking for towels, my phone started going off. Work paging me. Ok, let me put these towels down to soak up the water. I hop on the computer, take care of the problem, check a few other things, then call my plumber. Phone’s microphone isn’t working. I reset my phone and try again, I leave a message. During the gap in work and flood I go to Google to see what I can do.

Zero information on a leaking bypass valve. I look up some schematics to get an idea of what I can do. Outlet valve has a pin on the bottom to hold it together. I pull the pin, push the valve up out of the casing, a bunch more water comes rushing out (thankfully landing in the bucket I placed below). I run a towel around the casing, cleaning out the silt, cleaning off the O-Rings that are supposed to prevent this from happening, and put it all back together.

Now at no time in this mishegoss am I panicking. No worrying. It’s a problem. I troubleshoot problems. I fix problems. I turn the valve off and on a few times, it’s smooth, no more crunch of silt. I switch all the valves back and turn the water on. One or two drips, and that’s it. Disaster averted, or at least diverted (water joke, get it?). I clean everything up, call back the plumber and leave another message that I don’t need more help.

I dive back into work for the rest of the day and I start to feel it creeping up on me. Anxiety. I work through a handful of new problems. Doubt rises up in me. Work’s over. I need to hit the supermarket, but my church is having a chili cook off tonight, and nothing should ease my anxiety and doubt like the epic combination of chili and Jesus.

I think about going to church, the anxiety and doubt ramp up. I’ll go to the supermarket instead. I get in the car, but push through the resistance, I go to church. Had some chili, some good conversation and laughs, but in the back of my heart the anxiety and doubt was reaching a climax. I kept pushing back. I started praying.

I left church and halfway through Warwick a car is on my ass. Any closer and I could have read the VIN number from behind their windshield. I’m 2nd in line, I can’t speed up, and I really don’t care to. The adrenaline is pumping, and I’m starting to get angry on top of everything else. I caught a break when we both reached a yellow light at Price Chopper, I made it. They didn’t. I’ll take the win.

So I get to the supermarket with my list in hand. First item on the list is out of stock. I stood there staring at the empty shelf, confused and dismayed. Confused and dismayed over a freaking GROCERY that I didn’t really NEED yet. I message my best friend, tell her the enemy is banging around in my head like crazy right now. I go through the store, check off my list. Anxiety. Doubt. Anger. Dismay. Confusion.

The enemy was all up in my business. The louder I prayed the worst it got. I’m texting my friend. Telling her what’s going on. Telling her that I am absolutely craving a drink right now. I haven’t had such a thirst in months. I’m driving and I’m praying. I get to Edenville and I absolutely CRANK the Christian worship station on Sirius. The music is blaring, I’m praying, and then… a whisper.

A flash in my head. I’ve got a bottle of Evan Williams, a bottle of Everclear, an airplane bottle of Sambuca, 3 beers, and a hard cider in the house. The urge to drink is replaced by the impulse to dump it all out. God just commanded me and made it clear how to push the enemy back. The radio is still blaring, but all I say out loud is “I will.” Anxiety? Gone. Doubt? Gone. Anger? Gone. Dismay? Gone. Confusion? Gone. Urge to drink? Gone. Resolve? Overwhelming. Clarity? Crystal.

I get home, and I’m on a mission. I kept the bourbon in case my dad came by. I kept the Everclear because it’s really good for cleaning electrical contacts. I kept the beers for cooking. I completely forgot about the Sambuca and cider. EXCUSES.

I’ve been sober for 99 days.

Thank you, Jesus.

No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.
1 Corinthians 10:13 ESV