<note: I drafted this essay some time ago, but am only now getting around to posting it. I hope you enjoy!>

Chess at Panther Hollow

I went to Panther Hollow Inn last night because I heard they play chess there. Panther Hollow is a bar in Oakland near the University of Pittsburgh. It consists of a little barroom and a partition with a few tables in the back. Chess is played on these tables. Two games were underway when I arrived with my rolled-up tournament board and weighted pieces.

I heard about Panther Hollow from a guy I met at the public library a few weeks ago. He alluded to several “crazy Russian men” who drank a lot and played well. As it turned out, he was exactly right.

I called the place ahead of time to find out what their hours are and when the chess players show up. “It’s not really organized,” the employee told me over the phone. “Personally, I think chess players are weird.”

* * *

An old man with longish, stringy grey hair and beard sat chain-smoking in one corner of the room. He was thin and wore a shabby cotton suit. His Russian accent was very strong. He looked like Rasputin might have looked if Rasputin had been a modern Pittsburgh homeless man. The other players told me in hushed tones that he was the strongest player ever to frequent Panther Hollow. Their stories about him made me wonder how many gods and heroes walk among us unnoticed. How many anonymous great-ones do we pass on the sidewalks without knowing?

Rasputin was playing his opposite. A high-strung character, he got up and walked around frequently, during which time the Russian just sat sideways in his seat with his legs crossed, smoking and looking very thin. He stared at his feet or off into space, and drank from his pitcher of beer.

The opponent had his own pitcher of beer. He was probably in his forties. He wore a grey t-shirt and had thin, greasy black hair. He sat up straight and bent his head over the board using his jutting swivel-neck. He rested his elbows on the table and put his hands in various positions on his head, and then moved them around to other places on his head. Eventually he would make a move, stand up, and swear.

* * *

Meanwhile, there was another game going on at the next table. A middle-aged high school history teacher with graying hair was playing another Russian, younger than Rasputin and more talkative, with a squashed nose. This person turned out to be the guy who makes the pizzas. Urban Spoon says that Panther Hollow Inn has good pizzas. He found it hard to concentrate on the game in-between making pizzas. The history teacher beat him, and then I played the teacher. I lost. The teacher recorded all his moves in a little spiral notebook.

Then two more people showed up. One was a college student who boasted about his abilities in a way that made it clear he no idea what he was talking about.

The other was a balding, portly man with an unsettling knowledge of the game and a great willingness to teach, which belied an enduring passion for chess and an subtle kind of loneliness. I played a few games with him—but in truth there was no playing him; He played himself. He knew the “correct” moves (there are, in fact, correct and incorrect moves in chess), and he would tell me if I made a wrong move, why it was wrong, and what the correct move was. This explanation often involved projecting multiple possibilities of four or five moves each, all of which were “inferior” to the lines which were precipitated by the correct move.

He said all this in a matter-of-fact way which I found very agreeable. He had that classic, didactic kind of teaching style from which I love to learn. As much as he knew about the game, he was still interested in it, and he never hesitated to declare a move of mine to be “interesting, very interesting. Now, this position presents a number of problems…” I do not know whether this portly scholar ever played crazy Rasputin, but I imagine their personalities would clash.

I told him I played chess online. Most of the older chess players I talk to deride online chess services, but this gentleman conceded their uses. “I used to use chess databases sometimes myself,” he said. He then told me about the new computer he recently purchased, and how he could get a lot done as long as he didn’t get fixated on porn.

* * *

Finally, the time came for me to play old Rasputin. I had learned from the other players that he only played timed games. I do not own a chess timer, but the concept was not completely foreign to me, as most online games have time constraints. He set the timer for five minutes. His pitcher was nearly empty.

I played as the back pieces, and deployed an opening that I had been working on—the closed Sicilian. I lost, of course. After the game he said, “That closed-Sicilian, it was not good.” He reset the pieces. I asked him to demonstrate the Sicilian. He refused.

He told me about how he used to be a chess teacher in Russia, which the portly scholar had already told me earlier that night. He was no longer a teacher, the scholar suggested, because of how difficult it is to keep a job when you are drunk at all hours of the day. I looked at his face and realized he was old before his time.

“Chess is hard game,” the old man continued in his thick accent and incomplete English. “Chess is obsession. I know many people who were very good at chess, but were not very good at life.” He nodded gravely. I took a drink.

That was the last game I played at Panther Hollow. I rode the bus home, greeted my wife and friends, and resolved not to play chess again for a long while.

(I posted the first part of this list back in July. Now here is the full list.)

July 2011 through December 2011

The Writers Journey, Christopher Vogler

Candide and Zadig, Voltaire

The Leftovers, Tom Perrotta

The Story of Philosophy, Will Durant

Improving Your Middlegame, Andrew Kinsman

Judges, NRSV

The Case for God, (audiobook), Karen Armstrong

Robin Crusoe, Daniel Defoe

The Collie: An Owner’s Guide To A Happy Healthy Pet, Allene McKewen

Group Genius: The Creative Power of Collaboration, Keith Sawyer

On Being Ill, Virginia Woolf

Me Talk Pretty One Day, (audiobook), David Sedaris

The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, Catherynne M. Valente

The Joker, by Brian Azzarello and Lee Bermejo

House of the Dead, Fyodor Dostoevsky

January 2011 through July 2011

Team of Rivals, Doris Kearns Goodwin

The Trial, Franz Kafka

The Stranger, Albert Camus

Tao Te Ching,  Lao Tzu

Barn Burning, William Faulkner

A Good Man is Hard to Find and Good Country People, Flannery O’Connor

A Clean, Well Lit Place and Light of the World, Ernest Hemmingway

Consider the Lobster and Oblivian, David Foster Wallace

Othello and The Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare

Walden, Henry David Thoreau

Matthew, Mark, Luke, KJV

Middlemarch, George Elliot

All Things Shining: Reading the Western Classics to Find Meaning in a Secular Age, Hubert Dreyfus and Sean Dorrance Kelly

Readings on Herman Mellville, Bonnie Szumski (editor)

Beautiful & Pointless: A Guide to Modern Poetry, David Orr

Freedom, Jonathan Franzen

Call of the Wild, Jack London

Spiritual Autobiography Discovering and Sharing Your Spiritual Story, Richard Peace

Creating Healthier Churches, Ronald W. Richardson

Living the Sabbath: Discovering the Rhythms of Rest and Delight, Norman Wirzba

The Wisdom of Stability, Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove

Celebrating the Third Place, Ray Oldenburg (editor)

Breaking Robert’s Rules: The New Way to Run Your Meeting, Build Consensus, and Get Results, Lawrence E. Susskind and Jeffrey L. Cruikshank

The Religious Case Against Belief, James P. Carse

Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson

Creating a Life Together, Diana Leaf Christian

I read selections from the following:

The Essential Keats, selected by Philip Levine

Homebrewing for Dummies, Marty Nachel

The Grand Barbecue, Doug Worgul

The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes,  Arnold Rampersad Editor

Hero with a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell

Telling True Stories, Mark Kramer

Pawn Structure Chess, Andrewe Soltis

Arguably, Christopher Hitchens

The Starfish and the Spider: The Unstoppable Power of Leaderless Organizations, Ori Brafman and Rod A. Beckstrom

A Room of Ones Own, Virginia Woolf

The Long Halloween,  Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale

God, Man, and Religion: readings in the philosophy of religion, Keith E. Yandell editor

Faerie Queene Edmund Spenser

Knocking on Heaven’s Door: How Physics and Scientific Thinking Illuminate the Universe and the Modern World, Lisa Randall

Theology and the Religions: A Dialogue, Viggo Mortensen (editor)

Currently reading:

War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

Tales from Rumi, Mathnawi Selections for Young Readers, edited by A. Fuat Bilka

In Christian theology, God is transcendent. Whatever god is, god is utterly other. Religious communities have long insisted that any god who smells of anthropomorphization is certainly an idol.

In fact, many traditions (including deep and wide strata of Christianity) tell us God is mysterious and unknowable; therefore, “propositions” are the last thing that faith in God would involve.

Faith is not belief. It is unfortunate and misleading that the word “believer” has become synonymous with “person of faith.”

So, we are not iconoclasts when we say that intellectual consent need only be given to credible propositions, nor are we irrationalists to count ourselves part of a faith community.

The two terms “faith” and “belief” have become universally mistaken for synonyms partially because of the rise of fundamentalism. This has led to problems.

When religious beliefs are immune from all criticism even in the face of human rights violations and/or overwhelming evidence to the contrary, then there is something very wrong with our notion of what belief is.

Recently there was a story in the news about a Muslim woman who was raped and then thrown in jail for adultery. She was released due to pressure from the global outcry against this injustice, but only after it was made clear to her that she was expected to marry her rapist. In other news, a local church refuses membership to a newly married interracial couple. Besides these examples from this week’s news, we hardly need to mention the taboo against teaching evolution, the greatest scientific insight in recent history, to our children.

In short, people are afraid of such things as evil spirits, the afterlife, and homosexuals, not because these fears are sacred tenets of the literal Truth revealed from heaven, but because these fears were already prevalent in our cultures. Truth has nothing to do with it.

It is, of course, imperative to be sensitive to cultural differences, and to be civil in public discourse, but the fact remains that people of faith everywhere resent it when religious belief is used as a ticket for a free ride on the crazy train.

All beliefs are assailable.

There is no going back to a world where truth can be (or ever could have been) handed down from heaven. This may be a threatening prospect for dogmatic belief, but not to a robust faith.

There is no going back to an intolerant world. And by the same token, there is also no room for a world where every unjust practice must be called acceptable simply because “that’s the way we do it around here”. There is a difference between offending my personal sensibilities and offending against human rights. Everything, including our dearly-held worldviews and philosophies, must hold up to scrutiny—the scrutiny of a global village.

Faith must find its expression peaceably in a postmodern and tolerant world. And, call me crazy, but perhaps the limits of this toleration can be located somewhere shy of the systematic oppression of minorities and patently unsubstantiated assertions about the age of the earth.

Religion must take its place among the humanities, most of which have already found their seats next to the sciences, and all must add their voices harmoniously to the anthem of the preservation and furtherance of peace and human dignity. All other things worth singing about are variations of, or conditioned upon, these themes.

Last year in Pittsburgh, the coal cellar filled the role of quiet place quite nicely.

Well, I went deer hunting last weekend, and while I was away Amber transformed an unlikely, little-used space in the house into a cozy little sanctuary for me!

The guest room closet.

"far from the haunts of men"

Best surprise ever.

Just about everybody is required to memorize a poem or two somewhere along the way. Following are a few of the poems that I have studied, enjoyed, and/or committed to memory over the years so far.

Opportunity
Edward Rowland Sill

The House by the Side of the Road
Sam Walter Foss

O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell
John Keats

The Day is Done
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sonnet xxix
Shakespeare

Question [1]
Langston Hughes

Aftermath
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A Psalm of Life
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Trees
Joyce Kilmer

To one who has been long in city pent
John Keats

Daffodils
William Wordsworth

The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost

Tintern Abbey
William Wordsworth

The Spider and the Fly
Mary Howitt

I found seven pieces ready for me to take home. Amber and I also found eight bisque fired pieces which we glazed and set aside for glaze firing. I also had several greenware pieces that I (*sob*) recycled.

Below are pictures of the seven new pieces. Later on when I receive the other pieces in the mail I will post before-glaze-fire/after-glaze-fire picts. Enjoy!

Team of Rivals, Doris Kearns Goodwin

The Trial, Franz Kafka

The Stranger, Albert Camus

Tao Te Ching,  Lao Tzu

Barn Burning, William Faulkner

A Good Man is Hard to Find and Good Country People, Flannery O’Connor

A Clean, Well Lit Place and Light of the World, Ernest Hemmingway

Consider the Lobster and Oblivian, David Foster Wallace

Othello and The Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare

Walden, Henry David Thoreau

Matthew, Mark, Luke, KJV

Middlemarch, George Elliot

All Things Shining: Reading the Western Classics to Find Meaning in a Secular Age, Hubert Dreyfus and Sean Dorrance Kelly

Readings on Herman Mellville, Bonnie Szumski (editor)

Beautiful & Pointless: A Guide to Modern Poetry, David Orr

Freedom, Jonathan Franzen

Call of the Wild, Jack London

chapters from Theology and the Religions: A Dialogue, Viggo Mortensen (editor)

Spiritual Autobiography Discovering and Sharing Your Spiritual Story, Richard Peace

chapters from Creating Healthier Churches, Ronald W. Richardson

Living the Sabbath: Discovering the Rhythms of Rest and Delight, Norman Wirzba

The Wisdom of Stability, Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove

Celebrating the Third Place, Ray Oldenburg (editor)

Breaking Robert’s Rules: The New Way to Run Your Meeting, Build Consensus, and Get Results, Lawrence E. Susskind and Jeffrey L. Cruikshank

In Progress:

The Religious Case Against Belief, James P. Carse

Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson

Creating a Life Together, Diana Leaf Christian

Just Started:

War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

Hi all. I want to show off my new bike, a Specialized Globe Centrum. I got it majorly discounted from ProBikes in Squirrel Hill (back rack and milk-crate sold separately) because it was a 2008 model. The bike was not very commercially successful, I think because it does not have all the features that people usually want (especially in Pittsburgh) such as shocks and lots of gears for the hills.

However, the bike has exactly what I have been looking for; simplicity. It is a single speed (not a fixed gear) with disc brakes, so it requires virtually no maintenance beyond the bare minimum.

With my past bikes I have been annoyed by my bike not shifting right, making funny clicking sounds, sticking, etc. You have to remember not to put the gears at cross angles so that the chain doesn’t come off. You have to adjust cables and be careful not to offend your derailleur. Etc.

With this single speed, I don’t have to worry about any of that. All I have to do is peddle. If I peddle enough I’ll get to where I’m going. I love that.

The stanza goes like this:

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

The poem is meaningful to me because it reflects my own resolution to seek out community. For me, the first line talks about the good things that await in the future. The second line talks about the hard things. I am a future-oriented person, so I am always looking toward what is next. But the end of the stanza is about deciding to be in the present moment. It is also about deciding to live a life open to others rather than closed off.

Every newspaper has a slightly different layout for their funny pages. Newspapers use reader polls to select what comics they run. Thanks to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, I now have a few new favorites.

- – - – - – - – - -

1) Lio (Mark Tatulli)

Lio is charmingly bizarre. The strip has a surreal, disturbing atmosphere. It is a pantomime strip, so there are no words in it. Characters frequently get mad or surprised and do wild takes.

2. Mutts (Patrick McDonnel)

Mutts a strip about a dog and and a cat. It’s humor is understated in exactly the right way. According to the website, “Charles M. Schulz, the creator of Peanuts, was a fan of this strip, saying that it’s ‘one of best comic strips of all time’.”

3) Tundra (Chad Carpenter)

Tundra is a lot of fun. It offers a host of characters and places, and has very funny lately.

- – - – - – - – - -

Finally, if you have not seen these two “modified” comic strips yet, you must. Garffieldminusgafield omits Garfield and leaves Jon to talk to himself. 3eanuts omits the last panel from Peanuts strips. This omits the punch line and leaves the characters to wander around in despair.

garfieldminusgarfield

http://3eanuts.com/