Carsten's words

At just over 19 months, Carsten, pictured above, not only has fantastic hair, but an ever-expanding vocabulary. For the sake of history, here's a list of the words he knows how to "say," which reveal more about his family's influence than any of us would care to admit. Since he's learned words in various ways, I've broken down the list into several categories, and included pronunciations, as best as I've been able to translate. This is, of course, a work in progress.


Words + Signs
Mama / Mommy
Dada / Daddy
Ball
Football
Up
Baby
On
Bear
Wind / windy ("bindy")
Duck
Banana ("bana")
Piggie
Tree
Grandpa
Grandma
Cheeks ("geeks")
Wait


Words + Sounds
Puppy (+ "Arf Arf")


Signs + Sounds
Bear (plus "roar")
Lion (plus "roar")
Tiger (plus "roar")
Cow (plus "moo")
Horse (plus "neigh")
Frog (plus "ack ack")
Car (plus "broom broom")


Names
"Nanda" (Miranda, his oldest sister)
"Gaga" (Keira, his other sister)
"bitsy bitsy" (the Itsy Bitsy Spider)


Signs Only
Help
Eat / Food
Squeezie Packs (a made-up sign that I taught him; he pretends to squeeze near his mouth)
Milk
Diaper
Hot
Cold
Computer
Silly
Piano
Rain
Sleep
Drink
Socks
Fan
Hurt
Happy
Please
More
Zebra
Hair
Hat


Words Only
Burp (pronounced "bip")
Funny (often goes along with "bip")
Vent (just above his changing table, and so, a constant focal point)
Candy ("dindy")
Truck ("guck")
Yuck ("guck")
Uh-oh
A-choo
Choo-choo
Boo
Bed ("butt")
Bubble
Hockey
Bus ("bush")
Ice
Rug
Pizza
Bite
Cookie
Fry (for "French fry")
Draw ("daw")
Moon ("min")
Meat ("mean")
Pants ("bents")
Blanky ("binky")
Tissue (one he says almost perfectly)
Sofa ("fofa")
Sky ("guy")
Down
Elbow
Knee
Eyebrow
Eye
Eyelash ("eyechah")
Eyeball
Tea
Tie ("die")
Try ("jie")
Bunny

Colors
Orange ("awnj")
Blue ("boo")
Pink
Green ("geen")


Sounds Only
"Mow" (for cat)
"Arf Arf" (for dog)

joy in doubt: the State Public Forum Championship

Until a few days ago, it had been an up-and-down year for my Public Forum squad. Back in 2013, we had not one, but two teams preparing for Nationals, the first time we had ever closed out PuFo in the Western Washington District. However, in the 2013-14 season, not only did we fail to qualify a single team for Nationals, we had just one team make State. Our previous best finish was second place at the Puget Sound Invitational. I wasn't going to complain if that was the end of our season, but, to be honest, I would've been disappointed.

But we still had a shot at State. So, on March 21st, Max and Tate headed back to the University of Puget Sound, researched and ready to debate the merits of single-gender classrooms in American public schools.

After the first day of competition, Capital's duo were 6-0, earning the top seed in the elimination rounds. That gave us a first round bye on Saturday morning. I figured we had better run a full practice round to warm up, so we trudged over to Howarth Hall, found an empty room, and debated, Max and Tate running their Pro case against me--and their own Con.

If there had been a judge in the room, I'm guessing he would've voted for Max and Tate. They held their own against my improvised rebuttals, and got me thinking that a state title was well within reach. I didn't want to say anything, though, and went back to the judging pool, trusting that they'd be fine.

After the eighth round, Tate's brother Ben, who had been judging for CHS late in the season, decided to quit watching Capital's round--they were getting too nerve-wracking. I enlisted him to help set up the room for the final round, and we dragged tables and chairs around, chatting to stave off our nervous anticipation, and then greeting the community members who had volunteered to judge the final round.

Then the text came: Max and Tate had won their eighth and semifinal round, and, for the final, were about to face a fantastic Mount Si team--the team that had defeated them to win the Puget Sound tournament in January. The prospect of redemption was just too perfect.

Even better: once everyone had arrived and the coin toss started the round, we won the toss. "We'll take--" and I already mentally finished the sentence. Max and Tate always chose Con. They were undefeated in seven rounds running the Con. I liked their Con case better. I thought the Con arguments were stronger. Of course they would take...

"--second speaker."

And then Mount Si took the Con.

It took me a moment to register what had happened. I turned to Tate's older brother, Ben, who had been judging for us late in the season. "They picked 2nd speaker. Why? Why in the world wouldn't they pick the Con?"

"They felt pretty confident after running it against you," he said.

Touché.

Thirty-five minutes later, I wasn't feeling too great about our chances. I thought the Con had established a lot of doubt about our Pro's statistics, and that we were relying too heavily on the choice argument--"let every kid, every parent have the choice that otherwise is only for the rich." The opposition was also a little bit smoother in delivery. As the round wrapped up and the judges began their internal deliberations, scribbling endlessly on their ballots as the room waited in silence, I whispered to Ben: "I think we lost."

Ten interminable minutes passed. Ben quietly noted that the longer it took, the better he liked our chances. That seemed right.

Five agonizing minutes later, at long last, the ombudsman gathered up the ballots and announced, "By a 2-1 decision, your state champions: Capital High School!" I leaped out of my seat, just about hitting the ceiling. I had known it was possible, but I couldn't believe it. As the judges began their post-round critiques, the two voting for CHS talked about the strength of the choice argument in pushing their vote for the Pro.

The dissenting judge, though, said almost word-for-word everything I had been thinking throughout the round.

Good thing there weren't more of me in the room.

The upshot: your 2014 Washington State Champions in Public Forum are two of Capital's finest, a class act who never doubted themselves, who worked harder than anyone to reach the summit, who ended up going undefeated in the most intense and thrilling fashion.

Am I sorry for doubting my own team? No, not really. Debate is as subjective as it gets. But on the right side of the ballot, the doubt created by that subjectivity can lead to the greatest joy. As the coach of this year's champions, I couldn't be happier.

eight years in the making

In 2006, the Seahawks lost the Super Bowl.

In 2006, Walter Jones cleared lanes for Shaun Alexander and pass protected for "We want the ball and we're gonna score" Matt Hasselbeck. The Hawks' eventual undoing came at the hands of a quarterback who shares Wilson's adeptness at improvisation, and/or at the hands of a referee who later apologized for "kicking several calls."

In 2006, Pete Carroll was just another college coach to root against, Russell Wilson was a two-star prep athlete, Marshawn Lynch was breaking tackles for the Cal Bears, and Richard Sherman was probably trolling someone on XBox between classes at Stanford.

In 2006, I didn't live-blog the Super Bowl, nor did I tweet it, as Twitter was invented, oddly enough, that same month.

In 2006, I wasn't a dad.

* * *

In 2014, I have three kids. Carsten, at sixteen months, can sign "football," although he says it "buh-baw." Keira and Miranda, 10 and 11, rebuff the neighbor kids who think the Hawks can't win it all.

In 2014, I'm not going to live-blog the game, but I'd imagine I'll work out my issues on Twitter, as we all do.

In 2014, Pete Carroll is a guru of self-actualization, Russell Wilson is the Little Quarterback Who Could, Marshawn Lynch silently beast modes through hails of Skittles, and Richard Sherman trolls his opponents after he takes away their Precious.

In 2014, Walter Jones is a first-ballot hall-of-famer. Shaun Alexander lives out the Madden Curse somewhere in Federal Way. Matt Hasselbeck is a backup quarterback for the Colts. No one from the '06 Seahawks remains on the squad--and no one on the Seahawks has a shred of Super Bowl experience. It doesn't matter.

In 2014, the Seahawks are going to win the Super Bowl.

you are going to die

You are going to die.

Don't be scared. (Unless you are Shakespeare's greatest waffler.)

There are two basic options, vis-à-vis the outcome.

a. You'll stop existing as your body returns to the earth. If you live on, it's in your offspring, others' memories, history books, legacies, ineradicably embarrassing blog posts, and the repurposed carbon fragments for which the future thanks you and your corpse.

b. You'll continue existing as your soul departs for the afterlife you deserve. Actually, maybe you should be scared.

Regardless, you are going to die.

So don't worry whether your children's produce is organic.

improving borscht

The other day, we made borscht. Well, beet soup, really, as "borscht" has a certain charm that "beet soup" just doesn't merit. Our beet soup may have had flavor, but it had no class.

We used Slate's "You're Doing it Wrong" recipe, which is fine, especially the lemon juice part, although it takes longer to cook the beets to puree-able softness than L.V. Anderson (no relation) lets on.

The real secret to delicious beet soup: let it sit a day in the fridge after cooking. Lazy flavors taste better on the palate. Cheese, aged beef, wine, borscht, all the foods that lounge on the sofa and won't even get up to find the remote so they're watching infomercials at three in the afternoon, not even Judge Judy. Sloth makes taste.

(Don't eat sloths. Wrong noun.)

Since L.V. Anderson could improve beet soup through good old fashioned gumption, I figured this Anderson (no relation) could do the same. So I grabbed an armful of spices from the cupboard and sauces from the refrigerator, donned a hazmat suit, and got to work.

Here are the tasting notes. In all cases, I added a dash or a drop to a tablespoon of otherwise unadulterated soup.


Sriracha ("Rooster Sauce")
Do you like spicy beets? You could probably learn to like spicy beets. They taste like regular beets, only spicy.


Cinnamon
"Tastes like fall." Serve with turkey and deep-fried political angst. See also: Parsley.


Soy Sauce
Accentuates the potatoes, says Stef. I notice extra savor, but little more. Should beet soup have extra savor?


Tapatio
A warmer, smokier spiciness. Not bad, but not exactly delicious.


Worcestershire
Little difference in flavor, but I'm just proud of the fact that I can type "Worcestershire" without having to check the label, and that I can pronounce "Worcestershire" properly, as I am a chimney sweep.


A1 Steak Sauce
It is impossible to tell when A1 Steak Sauce has gone bad. Pass.


Nutmeg
Beets taste beetier with nutmeg.


Mustard Powder
Gives borscht a fruitier complexion. I'm not sure why I included mustard powder in the tasting; it's not really a reach-for spice in the Anderson house.


Ginger
Spicy, of course, and bright and zesty and prone to bust out an accordion.


Sage
Not good.


Tapatio, Soy Sauce, and Pumpkin Pie Spice
A bonfire by piles of fallen leaves. Hot cocoa. Brisk mornings and first frosts. Football on the television. None of this has anything to do with beet soup. All of this has everything to do with beet soup flavored with smoke, salt, and love.

a blog reborn

I'm back.

I should say: we're back.

I never anticipated reviving decorabilia, but with my wife's encouragement and blessing, and with (slightly) fewer professional obligations these days, and with a brain full of ideas and a need for an archive of interests and experiences--not to mention an LD program at CHS that's undergoing a renaissance--I have every reason to blog again, and no good reason not to.

Here are a few photos that illustrate how much richer and amazinger my life has become in the past three years.

These cherubs are Miranda and Keira. They're 11 and 10, full of energy, wit, and charm. The pumpkins are nameless.

This is Carsten, the newest addition to the family. At nearly sixteen months, he already knows everything.

And, of course, my wife Stefanie, whose smile captured my heart from the first. She's a co-founder of Olympia's only doula triumvirate.





For its biggest fans--high school debaters, my family, and various flotsam of the wide open Internet sea--decorabilia will be pretty much the same as it always was. I may update the look at some point, and you may see ads popping up--if you didn't notice, I have three kids whose tuition is being banked daily--but the heart and soul of the blog will never change. It'll be as random and as insightful as I can make it, or it won't.

Here's to new beginnings and second chances, resurrections and reincarnations. Here's to thinking and writing and experimenting. Here's to love and family, which matter more than any of the rest of it.

Here's to an unknown future, a future that once again includes this blog.

4521 and done

If you hadn't already heard via Twitter, this is the official announcement: I'm getting out of blogging. Thus endeth decorabilia.

I started blogging seven years ago largely for my own benefit. Over time, the landscape changed: I began debate-blogging, which drew my time away from other topics, and turned me into a national expert in LD. Along with that honor came a gigantic obligation, an obligation I can no longer fulfill. I simply don't have the time to blog consistently anymore, and I don't want to keep readers hanging on in expectation of posts that will likely never arrive.

Life changed in even greater ways: in those seven years, among all the other events both amazing and banal, I got married and was divorced (there the passive voice is intended), living out a life lesson in failure that I might have taught my students. In these seven years at CHS, I took on more and more responsibilities, and am now English department chair, debate coach, APEX online coordinator, Powerful Teaching and Learning facilitator, unofficial tech support guy, and... I can't remember what else.

Most important, my life has radically and profoundly changed for the better. In the last six months, I met an amazing woman, Stefanie, with two lovely daughters, Keira and Miranda. Now, married again and a father for the first time, life is more exciting and busy and rewarding than I could ever hope or imagine.

I don't bemoan the loss of blogging. Instead, I'll celebrate the time I'll have to share with my wife and kids, and to explore the personal pursuits I had largely abandoned, including reading and writing for fun. It's been a while.

Thanks to my readers, especially debaters, who've made it fun and intellectually stimulating. For current and future readers, I won't erase anything. The archives are still there, with all kinds of advice--just click the labels. I'll someday string together all my LD thoughts into one gigantic post for your information. That someday will be soon, when I can finally catch my breath.

4,521 posts. This is the last.

Thanks and good night.

barbecue tour photos: part deux

[first installment here]

the barbecue tour

Things have been awful quiet around here, and for good reason: I've been on the road, enjoying the best barbecue the country has to offer--and some outstanding natural beauty along the way.  Since the state figuring most prominently in my plans has more in the way of smoked meats than scenery, I'm focusing on the culinary experience, calling it my Barbecue Tour.

Why a gastronomic excursion through the heartland? Because I love smoked meats, and because I need to gain weight.

I'll add more photos as I take 'em.



Added: More photos from the new Nikon.

Guerilla Running's 4K Moon Run / Walk, Saturday, July 9th

On what promises to be a completely awesome evening, Guerilla Running is hosting the first ever 4K Moon Run / Walk this Saturday, July 9th, at Capital High School, to benefit CHS's Debate Team. I hear that 200 women have signed up to race, earning custom-designed sterling silver necklaces and post-race pampering.

There will be a raffle with great prizes from Olympia businesses, including The Alpine Experience, 510 Interiors, BeHive Massage Therapy, and Nathan's Performance Gear. Swing Wine Bar Cafe will provide desserts for the runners, served by volunteers including Debate team members.

Saturday night at 8 p.m., come watch, hang out, buy raffle tickets, and enjoy the race. If you'd like to donate prizes, cash, or time, feel free to contact me.

See you at the race!



Need more info? Check it the Facebook page.

summertime blogging blues

With summer commencing, if not weatherly, at least calendrically and vocationally, I was ready to write a series of blog posts on some tidbits I'd gathered from around the Web and stored in my Chrome bookmarks. Then, without warning, Chrome's "sync" feature devoured them all, and apparently has regurgitated them into a parallel universe.

So, more blogging to come, just not quite yet.

While I'm on the subject of summer: it's summer, so I have a series of backburner projects that are moving to the front burner. I won't say too much because I don't want to jinx myself, but it'll be great to have a couple months of serious writing time.

Creative chickens. That's all I'll say for now.

a fond farewell to CHS's graduating debaters

Last Saturday marked the end-of-the-year celebration for CHS's Speech and Debate team. It's a celebration I've come to relish. We find a park if the weather's good, or a team member's home if it's not, and potluck it. Games, conversation, food, and, of course, speeches to recount triumphs, visions of the future, and, for the seniors, parting wisdom.

And gifts.

A few years ago, the team started a tradition of cobbling together some mementoes for the coach. This year's soon-to-be-graduates led the charge , and I have to say, the swag pile is pretty impressive, with reading material (Catch-22, The Encyclopedia of Useless Information), folk music, Guatemalan worry dolls, hair gel (gorilla snot? really?), a puzzle book, and a leopard-print Snuggie, which I will never, ever wear. Grace's handmade collection of Mr. Anderson Quotes (that have never made Twitter) was a delightful surprise, too. (Sample: "Well, let's just make a shot that will keep people from becoming Satanists, because that's a public health concern." I swear, it was valid in context.)

Their generosity and good humor should surprise no one, for this year's seniors are a special group. Sure, they've shone competitively, including a 2nd-place finish at the State I.E. tournament, but more important, they've always valued truth over trophies, and have always competed with character and class. As often as I have coached them, I have merely stood out of their way, and watched them triumph through their own effort and persistence.

They're good people made better by their experiences in forensics, leaders in the classroom and in the community.  They're writers, scientists, actors, scholars, artists, doctors, politicians, and whatever else they can imagine. They are tireless, and their possibilities are limitless.  It's humbling to see how much they've grown in four years, and more than a little sad to see them leave. They leave behind a history of accomplishments and a legacy of leadership, already inspiring their younger teammates to greatness.

So, to Jackson, Grace, Cameron, Matthew, Vamsi, Josie, Jesse, Layne, Shira, and Aaron: thanks for everything. I'll be so proud to see you walk across the stage tonight, out of CHS and into the wider world, bold representatives of a new generation.

The scaffolding is complete. The rest of the future is yours to build.

Evergreen's Science Carnival: more science than carnival

Yesterday's Science Carnival at The Evergreen State College brought a lot of science, and a little bit of carnival, to the public. The Olympian sent reporter Rolf Boone to cover the story:

Elementary school students descended on the campus Friday as part of school field trips, while more children – this time with their parents – attended Saturday.

Over the two days, more than 150 science presentations were primarily presented throughout three buildings on campus, with an emphasis on hands-on activities.

I sampled some natural soda (dandelion blossoms should not, under any circumstances, be carbonated), saw how bacteria can power a fuel cell, and learned how oyster mushrooms are crucial to mycoremediation. The only disappointment: the cancellation of the 1:00 showing of "That's a Chicken?!" I never did learn what the putative quasi-chicken was, or what it all meant.

The carnival closed with Mentos/Diet Coke fountains set to "Thus Spake Zarathustra," which mostly made a mess of Red Square and the students manning the event.

Oh, and to Jimmy S., the commentator on the Olympian's website who claims that "The words science and Evergreen do not belong in the same sentence," you are obviously right. Clearly, an institution that sponsors cutting-edge phage research, has a "Research Ambassador Program" to connect science to the community, gets high school teachers involved in lab work, and has several top-notch programs in various scientific fields (with unparalleled opportunities for undergraduates to participate in research!) , and, for goodness' sake, HOSTS A SCIENCE CARNIVAL, has nothing to do with science.


Added: Science!

when Wal-Mart called

After school. The phone rings. I answer it, trepidatious.

"Hi, this is [redacted] from Wal-Mart, hoping to talk with you about [redacted]."

Excellent. I am a reference for a former student seeking gainful employment. Shall I expound, at great length, as to [redacted]'s character and accomplishments, fortitude and charisma? Shall I relate a piquant anecdote, recount [redacted]'s classroom odyssey of learning? Possibilities! Ask, dear Wal-Mart, and I shall--

"Do you have any reason to believe that [redacted] poses a violent threat to any other person?"

Uh... No.

"Do you have any reason to believe that [redacted] lacks integrity or honesty?"

No.

"One last thing. Is there any reason you would not recommend [redacted] for a position at Wal-Mart?"

No.

"That's all. Have a nice day."

Click.

Olympia Awesome Film Festival lives up to its name

The Rundown
Last night's Olympia Awesome Film Festival, the first ever, showcased the talents of twenty filmmakers from all over the U.S., with 24 low-budget short films in 5 hours--sci-fi, action-adventure, music videos, slasher parodies, documentaries, mockumentaries.

The festival's producers and attendees clearly loved all things cinema, bringing great energy to the evening. The event's sponsors also played a huge role in the festival's success, giving away hundreds of dollars in gift certificates, from pub fare to oil changes. (I'm not even mad that I didn't win one.)


The Subjectively Chosen Highlights
The audience favorite, Daniel Klockenkemper's Deathwalker, shot on Super 8 stock for an especially Carpenteresque look, had some of the best moments of visual humor. Apparently a foldable walker + a shotgun = comedy gold. (Couldn't find it on YouTube, sorry.)  Accepting his award, Klockenkemper noted that the short was ten years in the making. Here's hoping the sequel comes out a little faster.

For its composition and overall excellence, the judges chose--and chose well--Never Been Used, a simple premise neatly executed, short and sweet. Unsurprisingly, it was 1st runner up at the Seattle 24 Hour Film Race in 2010.

Documentaries deserved their own award, but since there wasn't one, I'd pick Hamilton: Town at the Tipping Point, a thought-provoking look at "FEMA welfare."

The animation Asteraceae and the mockumentary (at least, I think it's a mockumentary) Rats also entertained.

The two biggest "WTF" moments* were the slasher Waffle, perhaps the festival's riskiest entry, and My Brother's Dog Helen, a documentary that, in a few painful and surprisingly poignant minutes, deconstructs notions of family and forgiveness.


The Suggestion Box
The following suggestions are offered in love, as I'd really like to see the festival become an Olympia tradition.

Speed it up a bit. The festival started close to six, and wasn't over until 11:00. A good chunk of the audience left early, missing out on the final raffle and the prize announcements, probably because that's a lot of seat time (in a fairly stuffy venue, which, to be fair, wasn't the organizers' first choice). Cut a few films (see below), shorten up the breaks, and count votes while the raffle's going.

Quality over quantity.
A small festival, starting out, is in a tricky spot. You want to attract a wide variety of talents, and you want to attract and retain an audience. You want your films to be good, but you don't want to be so picky that you entirely shut out amateur auteurs.

Limiting to one film per director might help--did we really need two "instructional" films, Let's Shoplift and Save and Hot Wiring Made Easy, where the joke and the execution were nearly identical?

Also, to keep quality high while simultaneously building buzz, why not include your potential audience in the selection process? Choose, say, five flicks you're not sure will make the cut, put 'em on the website, and let the Internet vote for their faves. The top choice makes it into the festival, while the other four at least get some exposure, without slowing down the action. Everybody wins.

The order matters.
Selection and arrangement are critical. The festival had great variety in tone and style, but ended, I thought, on a bit of an anticlimax, an actioner with great production values (and lots of fight sequences) but a thin storyline--and only Part 2 of a 3-part series.

Concessions
It's small, but important: if this is a film festival, let's have film-quality popcorn. Butter it up.


In Summary
The Olympia Awesome Film Festival has great potential. I hope there's another next year--and I hope to see you there.




*And I should point out that this is meant as a term of endearment.

blogging by request

Recently my life outside of decorabilia has become, paradoxically, both simpler and more complex, and I'll write about it when I'm ready. Until then, my blogging is going to be a little less debate-heavy than usual, a little more locally focused, and a lot more sporadic.

Casual readers and passers-by might not even see a difference, but some of my more ardent fans may have already noticed the changes, especially when it comes to debate-blogging.

I'll still provide the same level of quality, excellence, and customer service. Not getting the blogging you need? All you have to do is ask, either via comment or email.

And yes, I have a life outside of decorabilia. Promise.

trauma and nostalgia at the 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

When my sister told me that she had three free tickets for the SecondStory Repertory's production of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, (through April 30th; see it!) I was cautiously pessimistic. I was a little worried that the trauma of past failures would keep me from fully enjoying the show's irreverent sendup of the nerdiest of nerd pastimes.

When she said that she wanted to volunteer me to take part in the Bee, though, my whole attitude changed. All of a sudden it became yet another nerdy adventure--I've recently had a few--and a chance to re-experience the trauma firsthand.

So of course I said yes.

Upon signing up to be one of four non-actor contestants, I was given three simple instructions:

1. Always ask for a definition.
2. Always ask for the word to be used in a sentence.
3. Don't act.

The first two were essential to set up jokes. The third instruction was to ensure the right contrast between the actors and the amateurs. If I had attempted to ham it up--and believe me, the temptation was real--I might've spoiled the show. So I didn't act.

I just spelled.

The first word was easy: "xanadu." My only concern was that I'd make a silly mistake and screw up--my pulse raced, my voice broke a little at the end, but I nailed it. I didn't expect real nerves for a fake bee, but there they were.

The second was easier: "putsch." Also easy. I had encountered it in a real bee back in the late 80s, and I believe I misspelled it then. No way I would fail this time.

I forget the third word, which I spelled right, either because it wasn't a real word, or I was darned lucky. (It was an Irish something, starts with a K, and I can't find it in my unabridged Webster's.)

I figured it was my time to exit the show when I was called up immediately afterward. Lo and behold, I went out on "pheochromocytoma," which I heard wrong, starting with a T, so they sounded the fateful bell, leading to the hug and serenade and juice box from Mitch.

At least I was the last non-actor standing. Ignominious defeat never felt so good.

Everyman at Saint Martin's, or A Morbid Campus Tour

Everyman is about to die, and Death wants a reckoning. Not wanting to go it alone, Everyman asks friends, relations, and others to assist in accounting for his life as he takes an allegorical journey to the grave. Who'll come along?

You should.

Saint Martin's University is currently showing a unique version of the classic medieval morality play, making the campus the stage, incorporating walkways, buildings, roads, and more. Everyman starts in a courtyard near the O'Grady Library, and ends, fittingly, in the cemetery at sunset.

The acting is solid, with the title character (played by sophomore Olivia Baumgartner), Death (Zoe Ford), Good Deeds (senior Ninalynn Benitez), and God (Olympia veteran Josh Anderson, no relation) standing out. The marching band accompanying the trek does fine work, adding levity and solemnity and irony to the proceedings. The finale is poignant and unnerving, as Everyman departs with Death amid very real graves.

It runs April 20-23 and April 27-30, it's only $5, and you need to brush up on your 15th-century theater. Go see it.

It'll be the strangest, most morbid campus tour you'll ever take.


Added: Christian Carvajal of The Weekly Volcano also gives the play a thumbs-up.

Ondrej Smeykal, didgeridoo genius

This weekend, I was fortunate to hear--experience--the mastery of a twenty-year veteran of the didgeridoo, Ondrej Smeykal, at the Matrix Coffeehouse in Chehalis. Smeykal's music is impressionistic and multitextured, surging in volume and tempo. It echoes the sounds of crashing surf, passing trains, pulsing synthesizers. It washes over you in waves. It fills your heart and your belly with gladness.

It makes hippies dance.

It makes hippies gambol and whirligig and gyrate with abandon.

The video above is the briefest possible sampling of Smeykal's lyrical and rhythmic ingenuity, a pale shadow of his live performance. Smeykal is returning to the Northwest in August, so if you're in the area, seek him out.

And bring your hippie friends.

a real American at 95

Wonder if I could ever find myself in this situation:

For all his life, 95-year-old Leland Davidson had been what you might call an undocumented American.

Until now.

Born in Canada to American parents who moved him to the United States when he was 5, Davidson grew up and lived his life like any other American. He started voting as soon as he could, obtained a Social Security number when he was 21 and served in the U.S. Navy during World War II.

Yet his U.S. citizenship, automatically derived from his parents, came into question last summer — as it has been for a growing number of Canadian-born Americans — when he was planning a trip to British Columbia and applied for an enhanced Washington driver's license.

The licenses are for U.S. citizens only — allowing re-entry into the United States from Canada. Davidson was shocked when Department of Licensing staff told him: "You're still a Canadian."

After months untangling his status, the Centralia man Tuesday received a long-overdue recognition of his U.S. citizenship, when he and 51 others — most of them children — were granted certificates of citizenship.

Born in Canada, of an American father and a Canadian mother, I'm an American citizen. I have a "Certificate of Birth Abroad" and a current passport, but if I were to, say, vacation in British Columbia and lose my passport--stranger things have happened--how would I prove that my citizenship is legit? (It doesn't help that "Jim Anderson" is a terribly common name.)

Oh, I remember: just sing all the words to The National Anthem.