How To Shut up A Fundamentalist

I once had a house painter who tried to convince me the earth is just 6000 years old. I am a non-believer, I told him. This just fueled him more. So I told him I am a mongrel—father a Muslim, mother a Catholic, husband a Humanistic Jew, and me, just an earth-loving freak that likes to dance around bon-fires. That gave him even more gas.

Then I laid the bomb: I am a geologist.

That shut him up.

As Neil deGrasse Tyson posted today on Twitter:

Neil deGrasse Tyson ‏@neiltyson5 Jan

If Noah's flood carved the Grand Canyon 4400 yrs ago, then it nicely exposed rocks at the bottom, laid 2-billion yrs earlier.

October, 2013 - Grand Canyon

A Year of Magic - Listening to Harry Potter with My Son

One of the things Elijah and I are looking forward to during our upcoming road trip to Denver (about 1300 miles on two lane highways) is to listen to an audio book. As we consider what to listen to we are both reminded of the magic year we had listening to Harry Potter. If you have not listened to the story told by English actor Jim Dale, you must. There is nothing like it. Here is an old essay about the experience I had with Harry Potter and my son.

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Last summer, my ten-year-old son read Harry Potter. The seven book, 1,091,123 word phenomena that has swept the world. When he was done, he asked me to read it. I like to read what my son is reading. It gives the two of us opportunities to talk about books and characters. Protagonists and antagonists. Good, evil and all the gray in between. But HP was such a commitment.

Then I had a brainstorm. Instead of my reading Harry Potter, Elijah and I would listen to the audio tapes preformed by the remarkable British actor, Jim Dale. I had no idea what I was in for.

We stuck the first CD into our car stereo in October, last year, and then during almost every journey two and from school, the grocery store, anywhere, Elijah and I would listen. I was caught. Stuck. Riveted and deeply in love with the world JK Rowlings created. I laughed at her characters’ wit and charm, gasped when they faced imminent danger, wept when loved characters died, and was stunned by the beauty and terror Rowlings was able to weave into her complex and beguiling story. 

In late April, we finished the sixth book, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and I had to take a break. Not because I was tired or bored, but because I was not ready for the journey to end. The idea that my son and I had only one more book to listen to was just too sad. I did not want to let the story go. And more than anything, I did not want to let the characters go. So, instead of listening to book seven, I went back and listened to book one, The Sorcerer's Stone, in which Harry and his friends had not yet reached puberty and Hogworts was a bright and shining place with luminous ceilings and heavy-hitting Quidditch matches.

In June, thinking myself ready, my son and I forged forward and began listening to book seven: The Deathly Hollows. I thought I had steeled myself, yet day by day I watched with increased trepidation as Elijah put in one CD after another, leading us closer and closer to the end.

I know this is all very silly. I am talking about how hard it was for me to say goodbye to a fiction - a non-reality, a story. But it feels like so much more. It feels, in fact, almost precisely like it feels every time I open my eyes and see that my son has taken one more step into his own life, and away from mine. 

I will always remember Elijah's last year in elementary school as the year we listened to Harry Potter. Every morning we would get into our own little Hogwart’s Express and go off to school, shouting spells or debating whether Severus Snape was good or evil. (I must hand it to Elijah - he never once gave any hint of what was to come.) I will remember that Elijah turned eleven while we listened to Harry Potter, and we celebrated by driving all the way to Seattle just to see the Harry Potter exhibit. And, I will remember, always remember, Elijah reaching over to me as the final book ended, and telling me it's okay. "It's time," he said. "it's okay to be sad, but it's okay to say goodbye too."

Friday night Elijah, my husband Chuck, and I stood in line for the final Harry Potter film, The Deathly Hollows, Part 2. It was a long line, and it was filled with people of all ages, sizes, hair styles and dress. I did an informal survey, and almost every person I spoke with had read all seven books. Amazing in this day and age of Nintendo and TIVo and the internet and everything else that distracts us from the written word and the worlds it can take us. 

After the film, we watched the credits roll to an end. The war was over. Good had triumphed, and the characters we had grown to know as friends, had moved on with their lives without us. When all was quiet and the lights back on, I put away my handkerchief, and Elijah, Chuck and I rose from our seats and left. 

I know it's okay to say goodbye, but I don't want to. It’s silly, really. But I have never felt so in love with the places a book has taken me. Thank you JK Rowlings for the journey you have given me with my child. Thank you so very much.

Angel Dust

It was snowing when I dropped Elijah off at school today. At least it looked like snow - it was white and covered the ground and plants and streets and cars. Then I drove east a few miles, climbing to about 1500 feet, and poof - the snow was gone, as were the clouds. Below me, I could see the valley carpeted in fog.

This happens in Oregon's Willamette Valley from time to time. It's called freezing fog, and it crystalizes every speck of moisture in the air. The picture below shows that layer of fog. And the ones below that, the magic it creates.

Looking west toward the Willamette Valley from east of Silverton, Oregon

Fennel seed

Magnolia bud

Blue sky peaking through

Dawn the following morning - Silverton, Oregon

The Life of an Author's Dog

Waldo is my dog and dearest friend. He is always at my side, or close by as I sit at a desk or under a tree writing stories. He patiently waits for the moment I look up and say, let's go take these characters for a walk.

Waldo on the Metolius

Grand Canyon Inversion

On November 29th, 2013, the Grand Canyon had an unusual inversion. With warm blue skies soaring above, the canyon, at a cooler temperature, filled with fog. This time lapsed video shows the phenomena well. It was created by photographer Paul Lettieri. Enjoy.

Grand Canyon Timelapse from Paul Lettieri on Vimeo.

Remember To Live - Naseem at TedX

Here is the talk I recently gave at Ted X. It was a wonderful and challenging experience. I think Brian and Linnea Kenny for allowing me to share a small part of their daughter, Kaitlin's, story. I think the National Park Service for giving me the present of a one month stay at the Grand Canyon as their Artist in Residence.

-Naseem Rakha 11/22/13

Gun Threat at School - What Would You Do?

We got the call at 9:15 last night. It was a recording from the principal of my son's middle school. "Excuse the lateness of this call, but I think it's important you know that yesterday after school one student reported hearing another talk about bringing a gun in tomorrow."

The principal wanted us to prepare our children to see police at the school. She wanted us to believe she and her staff would do everything they could to keep our son's and daughter's safe.

Mark Twain School, Silverton, Oregon

I considered not waking my son this morning. Let him sleep in, I thought. He hadn't been feeling that well anyway. Let him have the day off. But I didn't do that. Instead, I woke him, we talked about breakfast, lunch, after school plans. I asked him if he knew anything about a gun threat. He didn't. I told him about the call and what to expect at school. He nodded, and said he'd be careful. It occured to me to ask him how he would be careful. Do you know to duck and hide under a desk? Do you even know what a gun popping off in another room sounds like? But I didn't ask him these things. No. I simply got my keys and drove him to school. There were police cars in the parking lot. Officers at the entrance door, too. News crews stood outside with cameras.

I told my son I love him, and he got out of the car and told me he loves me, too. And then he shut the door and walked away and I drove off thinking this is just so damn screwed up. What kind of mother would just drop her child off at a place where someone has threatened to bring a gun?

This kind, I guess. Me. Maybe it's denial. The refusal to believe the worst could happen. Maybe it's faith that good people prevail and that the principal is smart and savvy and was taking all the necessary precautions.

But damn, I dropped my thirteen-year-old son off at school this morning. And damn, guns are showing up everywhere and kids are using them against one another. And damn, this is screwed up. Screwed, screwed, screwed, screwed up.

Where have we done wrong?

The hapless children, the hungry children, the angry children, the drugged up children, the worried, stressed out, "what kind of future do we have, anyway?" children. We are failing. It is as simple as that. A gun in the hand of a child is a failure of a culture, not just a parent.

I dropped my son off at school today because I don't want this culture to fail. This world is sharp with edges and ignoring them won't make them go away.

I dropped my son off at school today. That was two hours ago. School lets out at three.

-Naseem Rakha

November 21, 2013