In the category of “Is nothing sacred anymore?” comes this story from the Huntsville Times today.
Bible Bandits robbing Churches of Christ and Baptists at gunpoint in broad daylight? What’s next, Ocean’s Twelve ripping off the contribution?
Sounds to me like someone needs to “go forward” next Sunday.
There is almost a European-like energy here where everyone was not just friendly, but engaged. I suddenly had this revelation that what I had put on page actually existed and it was Huntsville, Alabama.
–Jordan Walker-Pearlman, director of the movie “Constellation”
My first exposure to Huntsville, Alabama was in the James Michener novel Space. Having previously lived in Birmingham and Nashville prior to moving to Huntsville in 1993, I can recall thinking that my
adopted hometown was just a touch too tame. I mean after you’ve visited the U.S. Space and Rocket Center and stood at the base of that 363 foot Saturn V rocket which sits beside I-565, what else is there to do?… Read the rest
Our search for a good Yuletide fix led us yesterday to the sanctuary of the First United Methodist Church in downtown Huntsville for their annual performance of The Boar’s Head and Yule Log Festival. Being both a medieval aficionado and a lover of pomp and circumstance, this is one that I simply don’t miss. I mean where else can an old Latin geek like me belt out lyrics like these at the top of his lungs?
Caput apri defero
Reddens laudes Domino!
That phrase is from “The Boar’s Head Carol” and translates roughly to “Lo, behold the head I bring, giving praise to God we sing!”… Read the rest
If this can be believed, then today is the day an eager Crimson Nation spots puffs of smoke issuing forth from Denny Chimes. Where there’s smoke, there’s a hire.
As soon as the planes start lifting off and landing, I’ll let you know.
Meanwhile, it’s 16 degrees with a 4 degree wind chill factor in Huntsville this morning. For you weather buffs, those are the same conditions as International Falls, Minnesota, long-considered the cold standard in the United States. Contrary to the song, we really don’t have too many “frosty mornin’s” in Dixie any more, and we’ve got the lightweight, ineffective coats to prove it.… Read the rest
There’s nothing like soaring choral music to get one’s Advent Season off to a good start.
Yesterday, I put Alabama’s coaching woes far behind me and dove headlong into Advent by attending a concert of the University of Alabama at Huntsville Chorus and the Huntsville Youth Chorus at the historic Episcopal Church of the Nativity in downtown (kudos to RocketCityPoet for the stunning view of Nativity above).
Small in numbers but large in both volume and spirit, both choruses hit several high notes, including such classics as Lauridsen’s O Magnum Mysterium and Vilvadi’s Magnificat in G Minor. Throw in some rousing audience participation on favorites like O Come, All Ye Faithful and Hark!… Read the rest
Three of the four funerals for the victims of last week’s bus crash have taken place.
The Huntsville Times has stories on the funerals of Nicole Ford, Tanesha Hill, and Christine Collier. Crystalle McCrary’s funeral will take place today.
Protesters from “that church” are in Huntsville and are picketing the funerals. The Huntsville Times’ response to their presence was a mere mention in the Nicole Ford story. Huntsville Mayor Loretta Spencer confined the protesters to a small, cordoned-off space 100 yards away from the funerals. She then proceeded to park city buses in front of the self-appointed prophets so that those arriving at the funerals couldn’t see them.… Read the rest
I’ll be leaving in a little while to spend Thanksgiving with my mother and sisters in Virginia, so I wanted to wish all of you a wonderful holiday and Godspeed in your travels.
I’m not sure what my blogging status will be in Virginia, but I will be continuing to track some stories related to the recent tragic school bus crash here in Huntsville. It will be a difficult time for our community over the next few days as we attempt to hold in tension our thankfulness that things weren’t any worse, our grief for the four young girls who lost their lives and our ongoing concern for the injured.… Read the rest
I had heard at lunch that another victim of yesterday’s bus crash was on life support and not expected to make it.
Unfortunately, I just read that there are now four fatalities with the passing of 17-year-old Crystal Renee McCrary a short time ago. Our thoughts and prayers are with her family and friends as well.
Our city is still reeling from the aftershocks of yesterday’s tragic school bus accident on I-565. A city school bus carrying 43 Lee High School students to a local technical training center plunged off an overpass near downtown after being clipped by another car driven by a Lee High student passing on the right.
The bus skidded along the guardrail and apparently hung there briefly before falling onto the ground below. The bus hit nose first and then rolled, the students in the back of the bus falling forward onto the students in the front. Two students, Christine Collier and Nicole Ford, died at the scene.… Read the rest
Like I said, there are more weighty matters than college football.
My office is across the street from Huntsville Hospital. I noticed a few moments ago more than the usual number of ambulances making their way down Governors Drive. My wife just called me, and now I know why.
A school bus has gone over an overpass on I-565. There are fatalities (at least 3 students) and several critical injuries. You can watch live local feed here.
Prayers please.
Sunday after church, I felt a large hand grab me firmly by the shoulder. I turned around and saw that it was one of our elders. Uh oh, I thought, what did I do (or more likely, say) this time? There I stood, a 40-something man, but I still felt like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
No trouble this time, thankfully. The question was not “what did you do?” but more like “what could you do?” As in, “could you possibly go over to Huntsville Hospital and straighten out D’s glasses?”
D is a 14-year-old boy who was recently involved in a horse-riding accident.… Read the rest
As someone who has been there, I can tell you there is no prouder moment in a father’s life than when your eldest son dresses in drag and proceeds to shake his booty in front of a large crowd of your friends and neighbors:
I should point out that the occasion was the annual Grissom High vs. Huntsville High Powderpuff football game conducted as a benefit for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. So, it was for a good cause that Number One dressed in a miniskirt and participated in a dance routine at halftime that made his old man blush and start looking around for a pair of sunglasses and a wig.… Read the rest
It was half past midnight, and I had just started to dream. About what, I don’t remember. I just know that moments before, I had passed through the that warm and hazy tunnel connecting reality to reverie. Shapes and voices were emerging and the jumbled nightly narrative had begun–instructing, soothing or tormenting–it was anybody’s guess what shape the storyline would take tonight. And then came the knock.
And then the creak of our bedroom door opening. “H. just got pulled over by the police. He’s in front of the house,” informed Number Three Son.
H. is a college student, a good friend and a youth ministry major.… Read the rest
This morning, the National Merit Scholarship Corporation is releasing the names of the 2007 National Merit Scholarship Semifinalists. If you were to dig deeply enough into the Alabama list, you would find the name of Number Three One Son, one of 28 National Merit Semifinalists from Virgil I. Grissom High School in Huntsville. He’s the one smack dab in the middle, with the large, no-orthodontia-thank-you-very-much grin.
Sixteen thousand out of the more than 1.4 million students who took the PSAT last year were named Semifinalists. Grissom usually produces more National Merit Scholars than any other high school in Alabama, and that’s the case again this year.… Read the rest
Three thousand voices cry out in shock and awe at the mournful moment
A crisp, clear morning is shattered by fire and fury.
Frantic chatter from little wireless boxes fills the air,
And only the essentials matter now:
“I don’t want to die.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Take care of the kids.”
“I’ll be with you always.”
“I just want you to know I love you.”
I hear them even now, phantoms flitting about my head as the daily grind Halts on yet another Black Tuesday.
Each gently asks, “Remember me?”
They gather round and tell their stories of life and love:
John, who loved soccer and coached his kids,
Suzanne, who loved her little sister with Downs,
Mario, who considered fine wine with a good meal and the company of Friends a sacrament,
Max*, who loved tinkering with old Mustangs and playing the trombone.… Read the rest
