A Remodeled House, The Munsters, and the Human Spirit

Today's post is written by my good friend Rob Carmack. Rob is a published author, speaker, encourager and prolific reader. I have said many times that I would like to be part of a group like the Inklings. The Inklings was a group of friends and literary discussion group. They met together at least weekly for nearly twenty years at The Eagle & Child pub near the University of Oxford in England. Some of the regulars included: J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, and Owen Barfield.

If I could have a group like The Inklings, I would want Rob at the table.

You can find more of Rob's wit, insight and wisdom at www.robcarmackwords.com

Rob Carmack

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There is a house in Waxahachie, Texas that has been remodeled to be an exact replica of the house from the TV show The Munsters. The house is complete with a grand staircase that opens up, a rotating suit of armor, trap doors, and every other detail that made the Munster house unique. 

It’s not a museum or anything; a family lives there.

So why did this family—the McKees—remodel their house to perfectly resemble a set from an old TV show? 

Because they love The Munsters.

They spent what must have been a lot of money and a lot of time in order to make their home look exactly like the set from a TV show that they love.

This seems ridiculous—insane, even.

But there is something beautifully human about this. What do we do when we love something or have something in our pasts that left a special mark on our hearts? We memorialize it—we create a way to remember something that we never want to forget.

We erect a statue. We hang pictures on the wall. Sometimes (very rarely) we even remodel our homes to look like the set of an old TV show.

The need to memorialize is a very human impulse.

In the book of Genesis, we meet a man named Jacob. During a very low point in his life, Jacob is fleeing from his brother and stops to sleep for the night. While he is camped out, he has a life-changing encounter with God (Genesis 28).

Years later, Jacob returns to the spot where he had camped so long ago. When he arrives at the spot where he had once encountered God, the text tells us this-

Jacob and all the people with him came to Luz (that is, Bethel) in the land of Canaan.  There he built an altar, and he called the place El Bethel, because it was there that God revealed himself to him when he was fleeing from his brother. (Genesis 35:6-7)

When Jacob returns to this spot, he builds an altar—a physical reminder of his encounter.

Jacob is saying, “I never want to forget what happened here.”

In the history of our faith, we have established several physical reminders of those things that we are never meant to forget.

Baptism reminds us that we are part of the new humanity—that we are participating in the resurrection of Christ in the world.

Communion—taking the bread and the wine—reminds us that we are recipients of an impossibly beautiful gift and that we are all brothers and sisters when we gather together around the table.

We create beautiful art because it points back to something that could never be expressed with mere words.

Jacob’s altar is a way of saying, Something meaningful happened, and it must be remembered.

The Munster House in Waxahachie exists because the human spirit cannot deny its own journey. We are hardwired to remember—to memorialize the past as a way of embracing who we are becoming.

As we look back with gratitude, may we embrace the story that God has placed us in.

May we remember that which must never be forgotten.

What are some things in your own life that help you remember your own experiences and journey? Do you think the act of remembering is important in our attempts to become better people in the world?

Are You Paying Attention?

... your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. Acts 2:17

I don't know if I am "old" by biblical standards. If Methuselah is on the scale at his purported age of 969, then I'm a Spring Chicken whatever the heck that is. Still, I do feel like I've moved from any possibility of being a young visionary to being an old dreamer. The fact is--I've always been a bit of a dreamer. Not in a grand Martin Luther King-I Have A Dream way, just the mind-wandering kind.

During my formative years (the 50s & 60s), daydreaming was discouraged by the mental health community and educators calling it a failure of mental discipline which could lead to psychosis. Freud labeled it infantile and neurotic.

I can remember teachers telling students (me) to "stop daydreaming." Then one day it happened--I brought home a report card where a teacher had branded me, "David is a daydreamer!" It seemed so ominous, as if I were stricken and there was no cure.

Imagine the horror and embarrassment for my family. In hushed tones, they would tell people: "Our son is a daydreamer." I could imagine scenarios like this: "He had a promising career on the assembly line at the Almond Joy factory, with the prestigious job of placing the almonds on each bar. But alas, he was a daydreamer. He would drift off to that place in his troubled little head and bar after bar would pass him, missing their nuts. Now he works at the Mounds factory because, as you know: while 'Almond Joy's got nuts--Mounds don't.'" Which, from my perspective, is a good thing because, as a daydreamer, "sometimes you feel like a nut--sometimes you don't."

Apparently there is some connection between the Industrial Revolution and the view of daydreaming as being dangerous and a waste of time and resources. People "went to work", making goods. So we needed to be more utilitarian. The arts, writing, composing--the stuff of dreamers, became like so much extravagance.

Today I am happy to tell you that my chronic daydreaming has not been cured. And lucky for me, mental health experts now agree that daydreaming is not only healthy, but an essential part of a creative mind.

One of my favorite lines on the "Big Bang Theory" is when someone calls Sheldon crazy. He replies, "I am not crazy. My mother had me tested."

I have been tested too. Don't over-read this; I'm not building the case for a genius IQ here. Too many people are still living who can attest otherwise. The test I'm referring to here is something called the Pearson-Marr Archetype Indicator®. It's a real thing, look it up.

The results of the test explained me this way:

At your best, when you fulfill your potential, you are highly imaginative and even inspired, and your skill-level allows you to create with ease. You have moments when the ideas just flow and creativity seems effortless. You have a wonderfully developed aesthetic sense and surround yourself with things that reflect your taste. You have the potential, moreover, to create your own life as a work of art, so that you avoid the ordinary, the shallow, and the mundane, opting for more satisfying ways of life, even if this means that others do not always understand why you live the way you do.

I was feeling pretty good about myself until I got to the "needs to improve" section, then it took on the air of those comments teachers used to write on my report card--things like: 

• Tame the inner critic so that you become less critical of others, undermining their confidence.
• Move from an ego-centric focus to an attitude of service.
• Balance artistry with being a responsible, thoughtful person.
• Avoid the trap of self-indulgence.

Odin the Wanderer (1896) by Georg von Rosen (Wikipedia)

I know I am and probably have always been a mental vagabond.
As it turns out, daydreaming does not necessarily mean you are not "paying attention." It's just from a different perspective with a different focal point.

One of my favorite authors is G.K. Chesterton and one of my favorite quotes of his is this: 

The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see.

I prefer to travel--to see what I see, to ponder it, to maybe write about it or talk it about it with other travelers.

Speaking of great writers and "travelers" J.R.R. Tolkien is one of the greatest. A line of his I use often is this one:

Not all those who wander are lost.

I might add that not all those who dream are lazy, listless or lost. Oh, and that line of Tolkien's is from a poem he wrote for his fantasy novel The Lord of the Rings.

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.

I wish you sweet dreams!

Favorite Holiday Movies

I'm not trying to tell you what to watch or not watch. Tastes in movies vary widely and I will admit I'm way out of the main stream when it comes to popular movies. For example, I've never waited in line for a movie--not because I'm unwilling to, it's just that the movies I want to see don't draw large crowds. The movies I see are never in the bigger auditoriums up close to the front of the multi-plex. The movies on my must-see list are in the little theaters at the back. It's usually just me and a few other weird-os there.

My recent favorites include:

• Moonrise Kingdom
• The Tree of Life
• Anna Karenina
• Beyond Midnight
• About Time
• To Rome With Love

So why would I even attempt to make a holiday movie list? Notice I don't call it a "Best" list, but rather a "Favorites" list.

I've divided my favorites into three categories: 1. Classics. 2. Always Good for A Laugh. 3. Holiday Themed Rom-Coms. (Yes, I am secure enough in my manhood to admit I enjoy a good romantic comedy.)

So here's my list of favorites, actually ranked by how much I like them within the category:

1. Classics

• White Christmas
• Joyeaux Noel
• Miracle on 34th Street (the original)
• It's A Wonderful Life
• Holiday Inn

2. Always Good for A Laugh

• Christmas Vacation
• A Christmas Story
• Elf
• Home Alone
• The Muppet Christmas Carol

3. Holiday-time Romantic Comedy

• While You Were Sleeping
• The Family Man
• Bridget Jones' Diary
• Love Actually
• The Holiday

Not just because it would mess up my lists of fives, but I left one out that would have to be on a favorites list. The Polar Express is a favorite to watch but only with the Grand-Girls.

Let me add that if you haven't seen The Family Man you should. Maybe I'll post more about this film later because it deals with what for me is a theological reality--the concept of "the glimpse." I believe in glimpses and much of my faith is built on them.

Maybe you wondering now if you should be praying for me--absolutely!

In the meantime--do you have an opinion or list to share when it comes to holiday movie must-sees?

Buying My First Doll

I've been in the behavior modification game for a few years now. I know the tricks of mind-molding, motivation, manipulation and marketing. I've become pretty jaded to the sleaziness of mass-marketing, but I still find the power of targeted marketing to be eerily creepy.

For example, how in the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks did some company called The American Girl Doll Company know that this was an appropriate time to send a catalog to the Amazing-Missus and myself?!

Well they did. And now two of these must-haves will be under the tree for the Grand-Girls this Christmas. (Shhhhh, it's a surprise.)

Not only did we need a doll for each, but a change of clothes as well. Their outfits cost about what I spend on one for myself. (Yeah, yeah, I hear you out there. So maybe it's not fair to compare an American Girl doll outfit to a worn out pair of Levis, an old V-neck sweater and a t-shirt.)

I'm not complaining though. The few moments of joy on their faces before they are on to the next present will be "Priceless."

Like that master of "exterior illumination" Clark Griswold, I too want to stage a Christmastime experience so vivid, Norman Rockwell himself will want to come back from the dead to paint it. And maybe Thomas Kincaid will want to come with him because the warm, golden glow from the windows of our happy, little cottage will be ultra-inspirational.

So yes, I'll fall for the pitch of holiday hucksters and buy whatever they promise will help make it all happen--just like thousands of others before me.

I wonder if Mom & Dad charged into Sears and fought other parents for the last Mr. Potato Head on the shelf, knowing it would provide their son hours of creative fun? Or it would have if Mom hadn't needed my potato back to boil up for lunch.

That's right, back in the good ol' days, Mr. Potato Head didn't come with the plastic spud. You had to provide your own torso.

Well for whatever it is that you've fought to have under the tree--an X-Box, a Cabbage Patch Doll, Tickle Me Elmo, or Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader Barbie, I hope that when it gets opened, you get a smile and a hug.