javen.bear.

Friday

My friends, it’s Friday. Look how far we’ve come.

Today my friend Trina Beachy and I drink French press coffee and ponder why it’s important that we read books. We also talk about The Hiding Place, The Lord of the Flies, and other cool stuff.

Today we’re giving away All Over but the Shoutin’ – Rick Bragg as well as Anything Worth Saying – Aaron Shust.

Congratulations to Thursday’s winners: Maria Mullet (The Man Who Was Thursday) and Mike Dienner (The Gathering).

*odds of winning were 1 in 44.

Cheers.

Today Lavon Bacher and I talk about mission trips, learning from other cultures, and what it means to be faithful to your own community. Lavon is a family man, small business owner (Swing-O-Things), school board chairman, and a hockey fan. He’s the kind of guy you want in your circles.

We held this conversation outside where a bird and the wind made guest appearances.

Today we’re giving away The Man Who Was Thursday – G.K. Chesterton as well as The Gathering – City on a Hill.

Congratulations to Wednesday’s winners: Travis Miller (The Ragamuffin Gospel) and Teresa Coblentz (City of Black and White).

*odds of winning were 1 in 46.

Cheers.

Wednesday

Humpday!

Today my good buddy Andrew Hollinger and I sit down and talk about Parkinson’s Law, rites of passage, and Earnest Shackleton. You’ll learn about why it is that you never seem to do your homework and why adolescence seems to stretch on and on in America.

This was a really fun conversation.

Today we’re giving away The Ragamuffin Gospel – Brennan Manning (book and movie) as well as City of Black and White – Mat Kearney.

Congratulations to Tuesday’s winners: Ben Smucker (Bridge to Terabithia) and Janane Doutrich (The Beautiful Letdown).

*Before reaching into the hat to pick a winner, my brother Luke declared, “I’m gonna draw my own name.” And then he did. But he decided to forego the glory and pick again.

(odds at this drawing were 1 in 41).

Cheers.

Tuesday

Welcome to Tuesday,

Tonight I had a conversation with my friend Emily Smucker beside a drum set in a Missouri basement. Emily lives in Oregon, so most of the time she is about as far away from my interviewing apparatus as one can be. But on this weekend we met in the middle for the wedding of a dear friend. After the pictures had been taken, vows had been spoken, and pizza had been eaten (catered pizza at a wedding – no joke), we sat down and talked about methods of communication, our heroes, and why getting a degree can make choosing a career path more difficult.

Today we’re giving away Bridge to Terabithia – Katherine Paterson and The Beautiful Letdown – Switchfoot.

Here’s a link to the book Emily wrote.

And here is Emily’s blog where she posts cool stuff.

Congratulations to Monday’s winners: Simone Smucker (Over and Underneathe) and Steve Chupp (Peter Pan).

Cheers.

Monday

Over the past several weeks I’ve been interviewing friends and talking with them about all kinds of different stuff. It’s been really fun…and I’ve been learning my way around Audacity. It started as an idea I had one night while trying to go to sleep. I hope you enjoy today’s edition,

Welcome to Monday.

Today I sat down behind a microphone with Susanna Stoltzfus in the church auditorium. Whenever I’m in church on a weekday I’m always struck by the emptiness and silence. Su is a dear friend from way back who now lives in Canon City, Colorado, so when she walked through the doors it was the first time I’d seen her since last summer I believe. But she’s the kind of person with whom you can pick up wherever it was you left off months ago. In our conversation we discussed the album she made with her brother Josh, the faithfulness of Jesus, what it means to use the gifts we’ve been given, and why Tenth Avenue North has been an important part of both our lives.

Today we’re giving away Over and Underneathe – Tenth Avenue North as well as Peter Pan – J.M. Barrie.

You can find Josh and Susanna’s album, Conversations in My Head, here.

Cheers.

CRAZYTALK

CRAZYTALK – Mat Kearney

When Mat Kearney gave us his fifth album, JUST KIDS, in February of 2015, it surprised me. I distinctly remember listening through the whole album on a long ride home from Pennsylvania in March. The sounds on that album were starkly different than what I was used to hearing from him – but it was good. From the first song on the record, Heartbreak Dreamer, all the way through the hometown anthem, Oregon, it’s stylishly Mat Kearny, well-written and groovy. JUST KIDS did feel somewhat experimental; there were sounds, even words, I’d never heard before. Yet it didn’t feel like a stylistic left turn but a new flavor of tried and true.

Earlier this month Mat Kearney released CRAZYTALK. After listening through, the only world that comes to mind is ‘uninspired’. It’s been three years since Mat Kearney put out an album, and CRAZYTALK was not worth the wait.

Face to Face, Kings and Queens, and Wanted Man are the only songs I might be tempted to revisit when scrolling through Spotify. It’s unfair to expect an artist to reproduce another version of past material – but you always hope they continue to flesh out new ideas and melodies in a creative way. That’s what Mat Kearney has been doing for a long time, but I felt like that only happened a few times in this newest record.

Mat Kearney’s writing has always been pretty simple, his lines make it seem like writing a song is something anyone could do – which is pretty cool. That approach doesn’t change in CRAZYTALK. His subject matter has also been fairly uniform over the years. Usually songs are written for or about his wife or personal reflection with the occasional Rochester. This doesn’t change, but these lines are less eloquent than they’ve ever been. When looking for lyrics online, I had to make sure to add his name to the track title because almost every song shared a title with another artist’s work. Once again, it’s not fair to expect reproduction, but as my brother Luke said of By Your Side, “It’s no Shasta”.

CRAZYTALK feels like a bout of writer’s block forged into a sixth album. It’s the kind of album that you hope the artist leaves off the set-list if you’re going to a live show. I’m not sure what the train of thought behind the album art was, but the neon pink is, uh, not attractive. In I Can’t Wait for You to Get Here, he writes,

“We were picking rings and riding trains,

Now we’re picking paint and middle names,”

It seems, unfortunately, that the former made for better songs. I have some problems with the writing on this album. I found the incorporation of pop-culture language into songs very obnoxious. The words Netflix, Kanye, Beyonce, latte, ‘vacay’, chill days, and Coldplay all show up in my least favorite song on the album, Money; it’s cringworthy. There are far more endearing terms to describe your girl than U.S. currency. Maybe his well of love songs has run dry.

I’m still puzzled by the tonal choices used in many of the tracks. The choice of guitar to drive Kings and Queens and Wanted Man doesn’t seem right to me. Then I don’t even know what’s happening in Fortress, but it ain’t working. I love Mat Kearney’s piano ballads like New York to California and In the Middle, but no such appearances were made here.

All told, I was greatly disappointed by CRAZYTALK; I think it’s his least impressive record thus far. The reviews by CCM and Jesusfreakhideout somehow give it four stars – I’d give it two. If you listen through and some of the better songs sort of strike your fancy, you might say, “Ah, it isn’t so bad.” But as Sir Percy Blakeney said in The Scarlet Pimpernel, “Nothing in the world is so bad as something that is not so bad.” So throw down the needle on Young Love again, and here’s to album number seven.

Springtime

Part 1:

A few months ago I got the idea that I needed a work desk, a better one. I have a desk in my room, but it’s the one that Dad had at his mini-barn office…and my knees are always hitting the top…and it’s pretty ugly. So I decided I’d make a better one. One that would span the whole length of a wall and have enough surface area for all the papers I need to lay somewhere.

I’m not really much of a woodworker, but my grandpa is. So I knocked some siding off of the old, fallen in barn out beside our driveway and began making trips to grandpa’s house. We planed down three heartpine (probably) boards and glued them together. Then, with much lovingkindness, sanded and varnished and sanded and varnished. This was easily the most fun I’ve ever had working with wood. Grandpa had everything I needed at his shop…so, minus a pack of sandpaper and some mineral spirits, it was totally free. I bought a sweet wooden chair at the Orange Horse, and now I write English 102 essays with a view of the backyard and plenty of legroom. Dream come true.

So a toast to my grandpa, Vernon, for helping me do this.

Part 2:

I think the changing of the seasons is one of the coolest parts about living in America. We get four, and that’s really more than can be said of much of the world (and Minnesota). I was really anticipating spring this year. Winter is too cold to camp and play softball and fish. It’s April now, and I’ve done all three.

Yes indeed.

If the Lord should tarry, let the springtime come,

Here’s a song I wrote in February, the great month of cold anticipation.

I’ve got two tests and an essay, and they’re all due tomorrow,

I’ve got few friends to speak of, they’re all out with their girlfriends,

It’s been a long February, and I’m waiting for the springtime,

It’s raining in this parking lot, and old strings on this guitar,

It’s lonely on a Sunday, and five days till the weekend,

and I wonder,

If things will get better come springtime, better come March

Better come springtime this year,

Maybe the flowers will grow over my fears, maybe showers will wash them away,

Maybe the warm days will thaw out my insides,

And things will get better come springtime this year,

Spanish Class

The evolution of the internet is truly an incredible thing. For the past several weeks my friend Taylor and I have been working on a little project together. We were able to send ideas, lyrics, and bits of recording back and forth until finally we arrived at a finished song. Not tremendous, but finished.

And I say we made a song together. Basically I just gave him some lyrics and ideas, and he did all the vocals, instrumental recording, and mixing. That boy can play.

And here is what we came up with: “Spanish Class”

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Javen.

The Oil Rigs

*cover photo is not my own.

Yesterday in English class our teacher asked us to think of a movie that we watched as a child and then re-watched later and interpreted differently. And no, she said, I don’t mean that you just watched it again and got all the jokes that went over your head. One guy said Forrest Gump, and a girl mentioned Gossip Girls; I hadn’t seen either. I jotted Peter Pan down on my notebook page, but I figured there must be a better example that I wasn’t remembering.

Then today I thought back to The Rookie, maybe that’s a better example. As a kid, one of the exciting parts about going to other people’s houses was their movie collection. Grandma had The Rookie. I remember watching it several times. There are a few scenes in that movie that are really beautiful. This one is my favorite:

I’m no movie critic, but that is magic in my eyes.

But anyway, there’s another scene, a short one, that I’ve also never forgotten. It goes like this in the transcript,

Kael:

What are those things?

Jimmy: What?

Those things moving up

and down?

Oil rigs.

When those things

are moving up and down,

it means times are good.

Looks like times are good.

And let me tell you friends, I saw a few oil rigs today.

I saw receipts on which people added a tip out of generosity – they chose to pay more than was required of them. And I watched a lady across the counter donate seven American dollars to an organization that helps Asian kids get a college education. I went to a free jazz concert, where the kids played for the love of music and got an encore. And I talked with a girl who started a campus piano club to teach music to anyone who wanted to learn. I ate a meal at The Cookout for $3.62, a twentieth of a day’s wages. And I drove past establishments with self-checkouts, where companies trust their patrons to pay fairly, un-supervised. This afternoon I was surprised to learn that the other five people in the room were Christians too. And tonight I left my car unlocked in our driveway, walked inside, and wrote these words. Tomorrow at 9:05 a.m. I’ll walk into history class and learn about a time when these things were not so.

Say what you will about hell in a hand-basket, but the oil rigs are still moving up and down.

“If It’s Broke, Fix it” – a story for you.

This past weekend I went in the company of three good friends to see our buddy Gabe at bible school in Pennsylvania (SMBI). Right after we turned out the lounge room lights on the second night of our stay, someone mentioned Olan Rodgers. And soon thereafter his face was on a smartphone screen telling us a story. His stories, such as “An Odd Way to Die” are great – he’s not there to teach you a lesson or convince you of an ideology, just tell you a story; that’s refreshing sometimes. So, in that unencumbered spirit, here is a story for you.

One day last year, in the fall semester, my friend Collin and I were walking through the Tri-County parking lot after another day of classes. As we searched the parking lot for the vehicle we came in, we noticed this super-hipster looking white car. It had all kinds of bumper stickers on the back – including one that bore the Switchfoot insignia and one that said, “If it’s broke, fix it.” There was also a copy of “The Ragamuffin Gospel” in the backseat. All things considered, I figured the owner of this worn out Honda must be an alright dude (or dudette). It is most unfortunate indeed that I had to bear witness to, and participate in, the eventful demise of such a lovely chariot.

The next time I took notice of this car was last week on Wednesday. Another day of classes was in the books. I had weathered another painstakingly boring Astronomy 101 class and was home free. After leaving the classroom, I ran into the chief of campus security in the hallway, and we talked for a few seconds as we walked together (this the same guy who got me out of the parking ticket a couple months ago). Once outside, I descended the stairs below Fulp Hall and took a right at the second parking level, eyes peeled for my car – it’s such a large parking lot. Without much difficulty I found it and was headed over when I noticed large plumes of white smoke pluming to and fro in the level above me.

These plumages were definitely coming from a certain white car, out both windows. I reckoned it was probably two people sitting in the car puffing away. I used to work with a guy who vaped, so I’m fully aware of the incredible clouds one person can produce. Dragon breathe caliber. Quite impressive. With this in mind, I decided I’d casually meander up to the first level and make sure everything was good. As I approached, a few things became quickly apparent. First, the plumages were still billowing forth steadily – like these people weren’t even pausing to breathe. Secondly, this was that same car I’d seen last semester: dilapidated white Honda with the back-glass full of bumper stickers. Thirdly, there was no one in the car.

I quickly dropped my backpack on the grass. And then moved it back a bit farther. I don’t need my laptop and textbooks getting charred if this thing blows up. A quick assessment revealed that there were orange flames coming from between the two front seats. The windows were cracked, and all the doors were locked. There were cars parked on each side of this flaming mobile, all of which were also locked.

I’d like to just pause a moment here to point out that if these people had been on board with my theory of driving a not-so-nice car and never locking it, their vehicles could have been removed from impending danger. And the fire could possible have been stomped out. But that would have been less exciting I guess.

So with no way to move any nearby cars or get to the fire, which was starting to produce a blacker smoke, I began digging through my backpack and produced my phone. I quickly dialed up the security chief whom I had just passed in the hall.

“I’m down in the parking lot below Fulp, and there’s a car that’s on fire. You need to come down here and check it out.”

“Oh! Uh, Ok. I’m right behind you. Be there in two minutes.”

Chief Aman rolled up in hardly anytime at all. Then we stood there for a few seconds, each unsure of what to do. He got on the phone to request a fire truck and sent me running to the Fulp lobby for a fire extinguisher. I tore back up the hill and into the big brick building. Inside, I ran over to a glass case, opened the door, and headed for the exit….as I moved for the door it occurred to me that I’d never seen a fire extinguisher of this sort before. Then I read the label – something about AED assisted breathing….not a fire extinguisher. I slammed it back into the case, which made the beeping noise stop, and found a real extinguisher in the next room.

Halfway back down the hill I saw Collin walking to his Jeep. “Hey dude, come check this out!” I ran down to the still flaming car, extinguisher in hand. It occurred to me then that I’d never used one of these things before, and really hadn’t been shown how. It’s easy though. I broke off the blue plastic thingy, pulled the pin like a Marine arming a grenade, and went to town. I stuck the hose into the cracked window and let fly the yellow dust. I couldn’t really see what I was shooting at through the smoke and blackened window. But boy did I torch them flames. Extinguish them I did. I put the whole bottle in through the windows: a lot through the driver’s side…and a lot through the passenger’s side. Like I said, I hadn’t ever got to use one of these before, and the chance wasn’t likely to come again soon.

By this time another officer had arrived as well as a faculty member. The senior members of our group decided we ought to break the window and get inside. In hindsight, this probably wasn’t really necessary. But a body tends to get caught up in a moment of glorious public service. Officer number 2 took my expended extinguisher and bludgeoned with all his might. No good. Then faculty member produced a hammer. Smash! Glass everywhere. Window no more. Yep, sure enough the flames had been put out. Completely. And there was so so much yellow dust everywhere. I daresay if the flames didn’t destroy the poor guy’s interior, the extinguishing agent probably did.

Collin and I shook hands with the security guys. “Well good luck boys. We’re gonna head home.”

They had to stick around and inform some poor student that he would not have a ride to bomb around in over spring break. At least not one in which you could roll up the window…or breathe inside of.

As I climbed into my unlocked car and drove away, I seen the firetruck coming down the hill behind me. I smiled, feeling like something of a public servant. Heh heh, we already got the job done boys. It was broke and we fixed it…sort of. Butt-slaps all around.

And that’s how it went down. I hope one day you all get the thrill of pulling the pin and letting fly the yellow cloud. Now treat yourself to a truly masterful storyteller by clicking the link in the first paragraph.

Cheers,

Javen.