“Fluffya”

That is the way many native Philadelphians pronounce their city’s name. Add that to “Warshintun” and “Ballmer” and you’ve completed the trifecta of metropolises whose names we Mid-Atlantic-ers love to massacre.

Inexplicable diction aside, Philly seemed like a cool place, and Drea and I decided on whim to go there this weekend to celebrate my birthday. We drove up Friday night, and while an epic traffic jam in Baltimore added an hour to our trip, I was able to appreciate a small glory — the “stick-it-to-the-man” thrill of bypassing the Delaware Turnpike toll plaza. (Here’s how to do it.) Take that, Delaware!

I had never been to Philadelphia, and quickly realized that I’d been missing out. The I-95 approach affords some beautiful skyline views, with the Ben Franklin Bridge’s enormous blue span towering just behind it. (Architecture nerd that I am, I do enjoy a good suspension bridge.) We stayed at the charming Conwell Inn, a 19th-century row of townhouses converted into a boutique hotel on Temple University’s campus. We polished off our hotel breakfast on Saturday morning and caught the subway downtown.

(A quick word about subways. It seems that every time I use a different city’s subway, I appreciate our Metro in DC all the more. After we rode Boston’s “T” last year, I appreciated the fact that the Metro goes faster than 15 mph and doesn’t mysteriously stop and shut itself off between stations. After now having used the Philadelphia subway, I can now add another entry to my list of praises for the Metro: it doesn’t smell like urine.)

In between the Philly must-see’s (the fascinating Independence Hall, the surprisingly small Liberty Bell, etc.) we visited a house where Edgar Allan Poe lived, strolled through Franklin Square (man, I love a good city park), grabbed a gloriously chaotic lunch at Reading Terminal Market, and toured the creepy castle-like Eastern State Penitentiary.

The one low point of the day for me was being packed like sardines on the downtown shuttle — directly adjacent to a very loud, large, and foul-smelling woman who evidently didn’t realize that her robust posterior was colliding with everything and everyone in its vicinity, myself included, whenever she moved. Yuck.

Some would say we missed an essential Philadelphia experience by not getting Philly cheesesteaks, but we didn’t feel bad passing them up after learning that they make them with Cheez Whiz.

I pieced together some video from our trip. Enjoy!

Book review: “Religion Saves”

I first heard of Mark Driscoll in Donald Miller’s book Blue Like Jazz. (Miller playfully referred to him as “Mark the Cussing Pastor”.) While I hear he’s toned his language down a bit, Driscoll is still a famously outspoken and controversial pastor and author. His church, Mars Hill, is a “theologically conservative and culturally liberal” congregation in Seattle. Driscoll also co-founded the Acts 29 Network, a church-planting group.

When I heard through our blog friend Kate McDonald that LitFuse Publicity Group was doing a “blog tour” of Driscoll’s new book Religion Saves: And Nine Other Misconceptions, I decided to hop on board. I love reading and exchanging thoughts on books, and I figured this would be a fun way to share my thoughts, and to find out a little more about Driscoll.

Religion Saves is essentially a series of loosely related sermons in written format. Driscoll tackles nine of the most frequent questions asked by Christians today — ranging from predestination to birth control to the emerging church — and devotes one chapter of the book to answering (or at least providing insights to) each question. While he ties the nine questions together with the theme of the misconception that “religion saves”, the chapters obviously cover a wide range of topics and could easily be read independently of one another.

Before we dig in, I have to say that I had a hard time writing this review. To begin with, the book’s configuration as a series of mini-expositions on various topics makes it difficult to discuss as a whole. (As such, I’ll attempt to reflect briefly on each chapter.) Secondly, I have mixed opinions of Driscoll and his views; I found much to heartily agree with and much to humbly disagree with in this book. And thirdly, I don’t claim expertise on any of these topics, so I share my thoughts with that disclaimer.

•••

Question 9: Birth control. Extremely helpful as an introduction to the different kinds of birth control, and their implications for the Christian belief in human life’s sanctity. I think Driscoll employs unflinching directness and gracious tolerance where each is appropriate.

Question 8: Humor. Easily (and fittingly) the funniest chapter in the book. Driscoll is a master of understatement and witty sarcasm, as evidenced by his indiscriminate jabs. (Nobody is exempt; he makes fun of liberal environmentalists, redneck NASCAR fans, goody two-shoed homeschoolers, and guys with bad breath.) He also draws interesting insights on humor in the Bible, and its place in the Christian life and even the pulpit. I agree with Driscoll in that given our common state as sinners, we all need to take ourselves less seriously and learn to laugh at each other’s (and our own) shortcomings.

Question 7: Predestination. Essentially a defense of Calvinist/Reformed theology, with surprising generosity toward Arminians. A useful introduction, but I still remain unconvinced of either “side” of this issue as an essential Christian doctrine. I believe both in God’s foreknowledge of who will be saved, and in our free will in either accepting or rejecting Him. I only consider this a contradiction in the sense that the coexistence of predestination and free will is too large and complex an idea for me to get my mind around. The presence of both entities in Scripture and in my personal experience makes possible my faith that God’s design is cosmically perfect in its inclusion of both, however imperfect my understanding of it makes it seem.

Question 6: Grace. Driscoll presents this as the most difficult Christian doctrine for him to accept. (I’m the same way; the idea of a perfect God extending grace to a people who are chronically ungrateful for it is beyond me.) It’s a beautiful discussion of the word “grace” itself, as Driscoll highlights the multitude of different types of grace that God sends our way. If we ever erroneously perceive grace only as God’s initial forgiveness of our sin, Driscoll helps us to see that this is only one of many heaps of undeserved blessings for every stage of life and faith.

Question 5: Sexual Sin. A hard look at the perversion of sex that characterizes our culture. While he doesn’t mince words about the sinfulness of some of our practices, Driscoll spends considerable time on the psychology, and even spirituality, of sex. He sheds light on the root problem of sin that causes sexaul perversion, as opposed to reverting to the near-hysterical rebuking and callous judgement typical of many Christian leaders when discussing sexual sin. There are worthwhile insights to be found here, ones I hadn’t previously considered.

Question 4: Faith and Works. In addressing the delicate interplay of faith, works, and salvation, Driscoll echoes J. I. Packer’s discussion of the doctrine of regeneration — that is, we are saved not by good works, but for good works. In this light, it makes even more sense that you can’t have one without the other.

Question 3: Dating. I’m married, so pshh, I don’t need to read this. (Teachable heart fail.) I actually learned a lot from this chapter. The history Driscoll provides on dating/courtship over the last hundred years is helpful. When we hear grievances against the dating practices of “these young people nowadays”, it’s usually from older folks who wish things could be like they uesd to. Driscoll’s relative youth might remove suspicion of generational arrogance as he implores his fellow young people to date wisely. He’s old-fashioned on this topic, and I’m with him. (Yes, the male should pursue the female. Yes, he should be clear in stating his intentions to her.) He also mentions the opposite dangers of legalism and free license in the context of dating, which is helpful as well.

Question 2: The Emerging Church. This was the chapter I was most intrigued to read. Turns out it’s one of the most helpful conservative perspectives on the emerging church I’ve come across. Namely, it’s even-handed and fair — dispensing praise and deep concern where each is due. Because of Driscoll’s previous involvement with emergent leaders like Doug Pagitt and Brian McLaren in the 1990’s, we can infer that he has enough personal experience to draw informed conclusions. His commentary is well-researched and organized, and especially helpful in its differentiation between missional/house churches and emerging churches.

Question 1: The Regulative Principle. I had no idea what the regulative principle was until I read this chapter. Turns out its about worship — specifically, Driscoll says, about “how we should worship the God of the Bible”. He introduces us to two prevailing schools of thought regarding Christian worship: the “green light” normative principle (“worship services must include all the elements that Scripture commands and may include others so long as Scripture does not prohibit them”) and the “red light” regulative principle (“worship services must include all the elements that Scripture commands or that are a good and necessary implication of a biblical text, but nothing more”), and discusses the strengths and weaknesses of each. He tells us a little about how his church, Mars Hill, worships — specifically their urban location, missional philosophy, inclusion of technology and social media in their services, and value placed on faithfulness to Scripture. He closes the chapter with a plea for unity in this area, recognizing that whichever of the camps you’re in is less important than doing what the Bible says, and not doing what it prohibits.

•••

Driscoll’s style and general point of view are unique, hard to categorize, and will probably offend just about everybody at some point or another. Conservative evangelicals won’t like his cynical jabs at Christian subculture; progressives and emergents won’t like his traditional Calvinist leanings or inerrant view of Scripture. He writes provocatively and to-the-point, which is refreshing in a sense; there are no trite, churchy clichés to be found here. His tone could be percieved as flippant or self-righteous if not for his frequent admission of his own sin. This is also refreshing, and lends legitimacy-bolstering sincerity to many of his arguments.

My main gripe about this book is its general ambience. We’re all familiar with the comparison of human brain types: left vs. right, objective vs. subjective, rational vs. creative. I would assert that engaging both types is useful and beneficial to Christian faith, and particularly Christian instruction. After all, what good is knowing doctrine without allowing yourself to be moved by it? Conversely, what good is the emotional awareness of a Higher Being without knowing anything about Him? Thinking about Religion Saves in this context makes me realize it is a very left-brained book. It’s full of propositions and assertions to be accepted or rejected. The goal seems to be to educate and persuade, not necessarily to stir or inspire. If both left- and right-brained approaches are worthwhile, the latter is noticeably and regrettably absent. While I think Driscoll makes some good points, I can’t say that this book was a particularly enjoyable read. I just didn’t find his writing style particularly engaging; at times it felt a bit like reading a textbook.

Admittedly, I may be asking the unreasonable; I’m not exactly sure what a right-brained approach to this book would look like, given its stated intent to address specific questions in an organized and systematic way. It is what it is. Your satisfaction with the things you learn or experience in this book will depend on your expectations. If you’re looking for a page-turner or something to appreciate for its literary value, this wouldn’t be my first choice. But I think anyone wishing simply to learn more about these specific topics will find this book helpful.

* Be sure to read other people’s reactions to Religion Saves on the blog tour at LitFuse!

Hilton Head

We just returned from a fantastic trip to Hilton Head with my family. It was the first larger-scale vacation I’ve taken with my family in three years, and the first one with Drea along, and I had a great time. The seven of us (the whole gang minus Rich) piled into my parents’ minivan and headed south. I-95 is equally boring through VA, NC, and SC, bankrupt of any natural landmarks or points of interest besides South of the Border, that southern interstate Mecca of sophistication and cultured refinement.

South of the Border

Each of us made road trip mix CD’s that helped alleviate the monotony of the drive. If I may be so bold, I will say I make a dang good mix CD, and it was fun introducing my family to some of my recent music favorites (Ben Folds, Jon Foreman, Chris Thile, and of course Coldplay).

Drea, my parents, and me in the front seats...

Allison, Adrienne, and Abby in the back! (We did switch around after a while.)

Hilton Head proved worthy of the 12-hour trip; we loved its palm trees, great restaurants, absence of mosquitoes, and warm ocean breezes. We rode bikes around town, lounged on the beach, played games, and generally had a humdinger of a time.

We'd never seen sand hard enough to ride bikes on!

I'd also never lifted eagle-like from the ground before, so that was pretty cool.

We visited nearby Savannah, GA for an historic/ghost walking tour. Our guide was incredible, and even showed us the street where Tom Hanks sat on the bench in Forrest Gump (the bench is now gone). Savannah is a great city — beautiful and brimming with history; if you ever go, you won’t regret booking this guy to show you around.

Paying tribute to John Wesley's statue in Savannah

On the drive home we spent most of the North Carolina leg of I-95 listening to my dad read his travel journal to us. He’s chronicled just about every trip he’s taken since he was a kid, and it was especially fun hearing recountings of previous family vacations out west. I spent some time reflecting on the robust and unmerited blessings I’ve enjoyed in life so far– great childhood memories, great vacations, parents who are still crazy about each other, and a wife who fits like a glove with my family. I’ve got it better than I deserve, for sure.

* Special thanks to Abby, as I stole these pictures off her Facebook without asking.

God shed His grace on thee

On this day 233 years ago, we told England we’d had enough. I think it’s cool that we’re generally friends with the British now, but I like thinking about how back in the day, we pretty much told them to take their colonial governance and shove it.

I can imagine Thomas Jefferson and his homeboys drafting and signing the Declaration of Independence, surely anticipating the reaction when they FedEx’d it over to England. (“Dude, King George is gonna be pissed.”) The document’s title alone — “Declaration of Independence” — is so brazenly audacious that it’s almost kind of funny. Like, it’s not as if they asked permission to be independent. They just declared it — like it was already a known fact. Like, “Hey England, the sky is blue, cows make milk, dogs bark, and also, you’re not in charge of us anymore.”

Independence Day — such a fitting name. The idea of being on our own, answering to no absolute human authority, but deciding how we will govern ourselves, or if we will govern ourselves at all. Barack Obama is our leader, not because his daddy handed him the reins, or because he took authority by force, but because we chose him to be our leader. If in four years we decide we don’t like him anymore, we can choose somebody else. How incredible is that?

I’m not very patriotic; I don’t think the United States is “the greatest nation on earth”, nor do I believe we have some special VIP deal with God where He’s on America’s side no matter what we get ourselves into. I can’t stand those “JesUSAves” bumper stickers. And I don’t believe America is some irrefutable beacon of truth and democracy that will never be extinguished.

But I will say I think ours is a great country, and I am dang grateful to have been born here. Yes, I’ll protest where I think our country is doing wrong, but it’s actually in my protest that I testify to just one of it’s brilliant virtues — free speech. And that’s just one virtue. My ability to fight a traffic ticket, travel freely across state and international borders, protest our elected officials and vote for new ones, earn a decent living, drive on orderly and safe roads (except of course the Capital Beltway), worship Jesus and talk openly about him to others — these are things I take for granted on a daily basis, and I forget too often that many people in our world (most, in fact) don’t enjoy these liberties.

So here’s to all those intrepid souls who founded this country and had the foresight to form a governing system that serves the people, not controlls or smothers them. We’re far from perfect, and we’ll never be perfect, but we have much – much — to be thankful for.

Happy Fourth!

Road trip!

I’ve always loved our family vacations. My dad is a road trip planning wizard, and he’s taken us on some doozies over the years…

One year we drove from Maryland to Wyoming and back — over 4,000 miles roundtrip — for a family reunion. I’ll always associate that trip with The Lion King, as that was the year it came out, and we listened to the soundtrack at least 30 times.

Another year we flew into San Diego and drove up the west coast to Seattle and back. That was the trip of my parents’ now-infamous brainchild, the “seatbelt game”, where we four kids were given five seconds to un-buckle our seatbelts, rotate seats in our rented minivan, and re-buckle.

Then there was the Phoenix to Denver trip where we checked out some great towns in Arizona and Colorado to possibly live in, and where we had an elaborate competition to see who could make the best road trip mix CD.

Being in the car with my family is one of my favorite memories of childhood (and even adulthood). Playing 20 Questions, the License Plate Game, or appreciating putting up with each other’s music selections — all while seeing the most beautiful places in our country — was a great experience, and one I can’t wait to continue with Drea and our kids.

Next week, we’ll do it again. My parents arranged us one of those timeshare deals in Hilton Head, South Carolina. Sounds like a fun place — miles of bike trails, lots of tennis, and the beach — but I’m looking forward to the drive down as much as our destination. Granted, instead of desert canyons or the Rocky Mountains, our backdrop will be the conglomeration of Waffle Houses, Cracker Barrels and other obesity-inducing establishments along the I-95 corridor. But we’ll still have a blast (assuming this doesn’t happen). Plus, I can’t turn down some greasy food from time to time.

Unimaginable.

I’ve been hearing the news about the riots in Tehran over Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s reelection over the past few days, but recently seeing some photographs of the protests has invited a little more personal reflection on the situation (for lack of a better, less insensitive word) in Iran.

(For those unfamiliar, the short story is that Ahmadinejad’s victory was a slap in the face for supporters of reform candidate Mir Hossein Mousavi, whose platform called for more social justice and freedom of expression, and a healthier relationship with the West. The protests in Tehran are the result of suspicion that Ahmadinejad’s “reelection” was a sham.)

Marches, riots, both violent and nonviolent protesting. Should I be happy? Angry? Hopeful? A proper reaction eludes me, besides being simply dumbstruck. It’s not easy at all to look at the faces in these photos, the emotions, knowing that this brutality is being endured as we speak to actual people.

He was surrounded and pleading for them to stop but six men with clubs, batons and metal rods kept battering a young Iranian man with ruthless force. The swing that keeps replaying in my head was the black baton that smashed the man in the skull behind his left ear.

Seconds earlier the man had dared to stand up to the baton wielding men because they had shoved a 14-year-old girl. For his chivalry he got one of the most savage beatings I have ever seen at the hands of four Iranian riot policemen and members of the Baseej, Iran’s plain clothed volunteer militia.

“To hell with Iran,” he said as he sat beaten and battered along the sidewalk. “This is not my government. This is not my country.”

A grown man who watched the beating burst into tears.

- CNN witness report

Unimaginable. To struggle this hard, to endure such brutality for your own freedom is an alien concept to me. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have had your dignities and freedoms trampled on so excessively that you, like this Tehran man, simply can’t take it anymore.

I don’t have any conclusions or definitive points to make about the election or its legitimacy, only to say that people fighting for their freedom is a profound thing to watch and reflect on.

Here are a few of the aforementioned photos from Boston Globe:

The rest of the images can be seen here.

Book review: “Three Cups of Tea”

I finally picked up Three Cups of Tea after hearing such great things about it from family and friends. This is the true story of Greg Mortenson, an American mountaineer who stumbles into a remote Himalayan village after a failed attempt to climb K2. Grateful for the kindness and hospitality of the villagers of tiny Korphe, Pakistan, and moved by the poverty and lack of education available there, Mortenson promises to return to Korphe and build them a school.

The book recounts Mortenson’s quest to build the school — his return to the States, striving to raise funds, living out of his car, learning about Pakistani culture, networking with people who share his vision. Without any prospective investors in his school, he sends dozens of individually type-written letters requesting funding from famous people he thinks might be interested — Tom Brokaw, Oprah Winfrey, etc.

After finally finding an investor, silicon transistor pioneer Jean Hoerni (who suppplements his $12,000 donation with a personal instruction to Mortenson: “Don’t screw up”), Mortenson gets the go-ahead to start work on the school. Returning to Pakistan, he hits a few roadblocks: the near-impossibility of transporting building materials through the perilous terrain around Korphe, the high costs of sturdy materials that will withstand Himalayan winters, the opposition from conservative Muslims to the idea of educating girls. But with the grant money from Hoerni and the help of his Pakistani cohorts, and after many detours along the way, Mortenson reaches his goal of building the Korphe school.

And the rest is history.

Just as intriguing as Mortenson’s transition from mountaineer to humanitarian is the perspective this book provides into the Islamic world. While Mortenson has his share of encounters with the anti-American extremism that plagues the area, he finds much to value in the peaceful Muslims he interacts with. Mortenson sees that despite their poverty and relative “backwardness” to American ways, the villagers have much to teach him about the importance of community and a simple life. Most of the villagers, in turn, see in Mortenson a defection from America’s reputation for arrogance and disrespect toward Muslims. The knee-jerk stereotypes (i.e. all Muslims are jihadists; all Americans are culturally illiterate demagogues) are beautifully deserted.

After 9/11, Mortenson’s school-building quest takes on new meaning. From his perspective as a American intimately familiar with Pakistan, we’re granted a unique vantage point on the war on terror, and the vital long-term role that education can play. It’s brilliant, really. Mortenson observes how much terrorist organizations recruit the uneducated rural poor of Pakistan and Afghanistan, building radical madrassas and brainwashing the kids to become terrorists. Mortenson “competes” with the madrassas by building schools where the kids can get a quality, well-balanced education. He believes in fighting terrorism not with reactive (or preemptive) violence, but with pursuing education and literacy, particularly for girls, as he’s often quoted:

“You can drop bombs, hand out condoms, build roads or put in electricity, but unless the girls are educated, a society won’t change.”

Three Cups of Tea is co-authored by Dalid Oliver Relin and Mortenson himself, with Relin as the ghostwriter through which we see Mortenson’s emotions and personal experiences. This being the first such biographical/autobiographical hybrid book I’ve read, my biggest complaint would be that the writing feels cumbersome and incohesive at times, particuarly when we’re whisked back and forth from objective history-telling to Mortenson’s emotions.

Literary awkwardness aside, I thought this book was fantastic — compelling story, faraway places, adventures of every kind, true tales of goodness. The fact that Mortenson (who’s been nominated for this year’s Nobel Peace Prize) is able to promote peace in such a hostile place is remarkable. No doubt he put himself in unnecessary danger at times and dealt with personal weaknesses along the way, but his story is classic heroism — a climber’s endurance coupled with unrelenting compassion.

I loved this book; I’m actually kind of sad to be done with it. (That’s how you know a book is good.) Here’s hoping you go buy it right now.

Now, I said — do it!

On having a photographer wife

– Crossposted on the AJP Blog –

I often get asked the question, “So what’s it like being married to Andrea of Andrea Jae Photography?”

Okay, so I never get asked that question. But it can be interesting having a wedding photographer as a wife. Please allow me to explain.

When you’re married to a wedding photographer, you’d better be a good model, because that’s the role you’ll assume. Your spouse just bought a new lens or flash or something, and she needs your face in front of the camera to test it out. Even if you’re an average-looking guy like myself, it won’t be long until you feel like a regular Derek Zoolander – posing, strutting your stuff, shooting looks of every kind at the camera. A little flirty look here, a pensive one here…let’s see Magnum!

Also, be ready to stop the car at a moment’s notice so your spouse can take a picture of a cool-looking door or field or dumpster or something. Or, prepare to drive like a maniac for the sake of capturing a shot. Two Christmases ago, we were driving with my family up to the Poconos. Drea had just gotten her first lens and was determined to get this shot: from our car, looking at our reflection in the hubcaps of another car. So imagine, if you will, barreling down I-81 while your wife dictates driving instructions so you can get right beside (and going the exact same speed as) another motorist. A little faster! No, slow down! We’re passing him! Of course the window is down so a clear shot can be obtained (and so the other passengers can experience a nice icy blast of 30-degree air at 75 mph).

Sarcasm aside, I actually love being a part (however small) of this photography adventure. Behind the blog posts and images and marketing is a vibrant, intelligent, authentically good-hearted person I’m proud to call my wife. You all should be jealous.

Movie review: “Frost/Nixon”

I wasn’t alive in 1977 and am admittedly rusty on my U.S. history, so I had never heard of the Frost interviews until this movie came out. (My ignorance, for better or for worse, probably made the movie more enjoyable/suspenseful for me.) Based on the Broadway play of the same title, Frost/Nixon retells the events leading up to Richard Nixon’s long-awaited confession of his involvement in Watergate.

Nixon, three years after resigning from the White House, is holed up in his beachside villa in California. British TV personality David Frost — a 1970’s Ryan Seacrest as it were — is interviewing the Bee Gees, partying, signing autographs, and picking up women on airplanes. Taking note of the 400 million people who watched Nixon’s resignation on TV, Frost is convinced that an interview with the former president will be a sure-fire success, and offers Nixon $600,000 to oblige. Eager to “set the record straight”, and seeing Frost’s apparently low intellectual caliber as the perfect opportunity to regain the public’s trust, Nixon accepts the bid.

So Frost jets off to the States to begin his venture. After failing to convince the American networks to air his interviews, he borrows money from friends to finance the interviews himself. Not to be discouraged, though, he’s compiled a team of talented researchers who are bent on outfoxing Nixon. They’ll provide the facts, Frost will bring the charisma. Despite a few setbacks, things are looking okay for the fast-approaching filming dates.

After months of hype and preparation, the first three of the four interviews are disasters. Nixon knows Frost is an intellectual lightweight, and he dominates the dialogue, countering Frost’s questions with long-winded, sympathy-garnering responses, much to the chagrin of Frost and his team. Frost throws a few curveballs — emotionally-charged Vietnam montages, etc. — but Nixon knocks them all out of the park, even turning the blame on Frost when he breaches contract by asking a Watergate question prematurely. Nixon is a master of mind games and subtly chips away at Frost’s self-confidence — making sly off-camera jabs at his struggle to raise money for the interviews and commenting on his snazzy Italian shoes. (“You don’t find them too affeminate? I guess someone in your field can get away with it.”)

Frost’s frustration grows. He’s having trouble selling ad space for the interviews, his professional career outside the interviews is waning, and his new female companion is starting to see his successful veneer for what it is. His team is worried about how the interviews are going, and whatever constructive criticism they offer is brushed aside by an increasingly agitated Frost.

Frost gets a phone call the night before the final interview from his opponent, who tells him, in essence, that he’s going to open up a can of ex-presidential whoop-ass on him the next day. Realizing maybe for the first time that he and Nixon aren’t involved in an interview but rather a boxing match, Frost decides to step up his game, and spends the whole night cramming in preparation for the final interview.

We all know what happens the next day: Nixon confesses, Frost’s previously under-credited career is catapulted into legitimacy. But the movie has invested so much time exploring the personalities and vulnerabilites of these two men that it’s impossible not to feel the weighty suspense of this final showdown. The means by which Frost gets Nixon to confess is less stirring than the contrition on Nixon’s face as he concedes that what he did amounted to more than “making mistakes.” He broke the law, he dishonored the presidency, he let his country down. And while the disgrace of his actions can’t be overlooked, we (I, at least) can’t help but feel sorry for the guy as he wallows in self-defeat for the world to see.

A highlight of the movie, of course, is the interchange where Nixon abruptly (accidentally?) reveals his true colors of political philosophy:

Frost: Are you really saying the president can do something illegal?

Nixon: I’m saying that when the president does it, that means it’s not illegal.

In the bonus material, one producer makes a brief but interesting (perhaps inevitable) comparison of the abuses of power by Nixon with the more recent example(s) of the Bush Administration. If the president believes he is acting in the country’s best interest, should he be permitted to violate laws (including human rights laws) to do so? On one hand, you could argue that desperate times call for desperate measures. (The Patriot Act comes to mind.) But when the integrity and good intentions of the president are legitimately called into question, this argument erodes quickly.

The rest of the DVD bonus material (unlike most such material) is worth watching. They show us clips from the actual interviews, which of course are less emotional than the movie. Real-life Nixon isn’t as easy to sympathize with, and real-life Frost doesn’t seem nearly as charismatic. However, the actual dialogue is evidently portrayed pretty accurately in the film.

It’s harder to tell how much creative liberty was used in portraying the personal dynamics between Frost and Nixon outside the interviews, but in any case, this is a fantastic and captivating movie. Great character development. It’s crazy that Nixon went into that final interview with no intention of confessing, and in a single vulnerable moment, he decided he had to. It’s like for those few minutes, the smoke and mirrors of politics and television were gone, and the whole world got to witness a moment of bare humanity. Even though I know it wasn’t as “Hollywood-ified” in real life, I kind of wish I had been there to see it.

Thanks (in advance) — you’re a good sport

Drea is at the Outer Banks with Smizzle this week, leaving me all alone! I’m kickin’ it Kevin McAllister style this week. I’m doing okay (staying pretty busy) but I still miss her. As such, I’ve elected to write a haiku to chronicle this time…

North Carolina
Has my wife for the week and
I miss her a bit

She prepared me though
Did my laundry, cleaned the house
I have a good spouse

I’m not enjoying
Having the bed to myself
As much as I thought

She’s having good times
With a good friend, so that’s cool
Beaches, spas, chick flicks

She left me a list
Of stuff to do while she’s gone
“if I have the time”

I’ve done none of them
I’m a terrible husband
I hope she’ll forgive

She’ll be getting back
Tomorrow in the afternoon
So I still have time

I’m just rambling now
You’re probably bored to tears
Thanks — you’re a good sport

This is what happens
When I have too much free time
I write crappy haikus.