Some Thoughts on Teaching College Bible Courses

The Old and New Testament classes I teach are first-year, college level courses.

In both classes, we're halfway through the second units. What that means is, in the OT class we have surveyed the Five Books of Moses, plus Joshua through Kings, and some of the poetic books. Now we're into the writings of the prophets, going through in more less chronological order. In the NT class, we've done a fly-over of the Four Gospels and Acts and are now about halfway through the Letters of Paul (again, in something like chronological order).

If you've ever done something like this before, you know how difficult it can be. If you haven't done something like this, you might be surprised at the number of challenges it presents.

For instance, by definition, a survey course never gives you the opportunity to dive deep. The goal is to cover basic content, which creates a few dilemmas. For one thing, the teacher would like to spend more time exploring each book. The text begs for it, and that's hard to resist. I once heard about a teacher in an OT survey course who by the end of the semester had made it to the middle of Numbers. I regard that as false advertising. It's frustrating to students who expected what the course title promised. As it turns out, my preference for dealing with six books instead of sixty-six in the course of a semester is one of the least of my concerns.

Ironically, content survey is never easy in a Bible-Belt college. That's because of the pre-understandings that many of the students bring with them to class. For example, a good number of students arrive in a New Testament course thoroughly immersed in dispensational premillennialism, i.e, Left Behind-ism.

It usually starts a discussion--and gives the students some needed exercise in using a concordance--when I mention that "anti-Christ" doesn't occur one time in the Book of Revelation. In two 75-minute class sessions on the Revelation, I don't think that anyone is moved off of his or her paradigm for interpreting apocalyptic literature (provided they started with one). I consider it a small victory if students know something of what's in the book, that Revelation is far from unique, and that there's a wide range of interpretive takes, including the one I prefer, which is quite different from the only reading that most of my students know.

Anyway, those are just some of the dilemmas that go along with the real delights of my job. At the end of the day, I've gotten to study and think with and talk about Scripture. And that's a pretty good gig.

Of Raccoons and Religious Renegades, plus Garrison Keillor on Abilene, Texas

In case you were thinking about it, do not attempt to use a taser on a raccoon. According to a recent story from the Associated Press, tasers don't work on raccoons.

I have never been tased. Have you? (Okay, if you have, you might not be ready to admit it). I don't understand the people who ask to be tased to find out what it's like. No one looks like he's having fun. I'll just take their word (or scream) for it.

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On the religion front, a man in Childress, Texas has been excommunicated by the Carey First Baptist Church because he publicly favors keeping Childress County "wet" (i.e., permitting the sale of alcohol). According to the story which appears in today's Amarillo Globe-News, the man has hardly been to the church in the last four years, and was notified by letter that he is a wicked man who's being expelled from his congregation.

This reminds me of something that happened in my home congregation of the Church of Christ when I was in grade school. As I recall, two or three members of the congregation who hadn't attended in years were notified by mail that they were being "disfellowshipped" (our term of choice). I don't know if any of them had been contacted in person. Anyway, a copy of the form letter was read to the congregation at the close of a Sunday-morning service. I had no idea who any of these people were.

Years later, I was a student in a high school class taught by one of the disfellowshipped people. During the years that had passed, the teacher had never been back to church. Apparently, being expelled from a congregation that the teacher really wasn't a part of had somehow failed to shake any spiritual sense into this person. I can still remember that the teacher was a pretty good classroom instructor and gave every indication of being a fine person. I hoped that my teacher didn't know that I was a part of the congregation that had sent that letter.

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Garrison Keillor recently did one of his "Prairie Home Companion" shows in Abilene, TX. He reflects on his visit in a Salon piece called Among the hardy Republicans.

Two Questions for Blogger Users

For those of you who are still with Blogger, like me, I'd appreciate it if you could give me some help with two questions I have. I haven't been able to track down the answers at the Blogger help site. So I ask you:

1. Can you post a Hebrew or Greek font on a Blogger blog?

2. Is it possible to include footnotes in a post where each footnote is a link that will take the reader to the note of that number?

A Little Misery, a Couple Movies, and a Few Good Books

So I haven't posted anything lately. And I haven't gotten around to commenting at other blogs either. I got sick, something that never happens to me. Okay, rarely happens to me. Last week I was sort of under the weather, just didn't feel like doing much. But Saturday I felt baaaaahhd. So I dragged myself to the walk-in clinic where the doctor said, "Strep throat." I started the antibiotics that afternoon, woke up even worse on Sunday, and barely made it to my classes Monday morning! Strange thing is, it's nearly a week later and I'm not that much better today. A little more time, I guess. (sniffle) Anyway, on my down days, I watched What's Eating Gilbert Grape and American Gangster. I had read all kinds of good things about Gilbert but had never seen it. I had already seen Gangster when it was in the theaters. I'd put both of them in, say, my top 150. You too? I've also spent a good bit of time reading lately. Until recently, I haven't been much into fiction. But I really liked The Street Lawyer by John Grisham (a Michele recommendation). So last week I got a copy of A Painted House, one of the few things by Grisham that isn't set in the legal world. The earlier book was better, I thought. But even when this guy's not at his best, he's a very good writer. Any Grisham fans out there who can mentor this newbie? Which ones are the very best? Speaking of the best, I really loved almost everything included in The Best Christian Writing of 2006. It includes a free-and-fresh translation of a Christmas sermon by Augustine, an interview with Eugene Peterson about "spirituality," and Michael Foley's theologically-astute discussion of the movie "Groundhog Day." If you pick this book up, be sure to read the "Introduction" by Mark Noll. It's a gem too. I have to say, I really like these best-of anthologies. I mean, why constantly wade through mostly junk? I already do enough of that in the Blogosphere. Evidently so do you. Oh, on the culture front, I re-read All God's Children and Blue Suede Shoes: Christians and Popular Culture, by Kenneth A. Myers. If you're feeling pretty good about American culture these days, reading this book will balance you out. On the other hand, if you're sort of down on all things American right now and you are easily depressed, then stay away from this one. It's a fine book, I must say; one that I'm glad I went back to as I'm thinking about this thing called culture. So that's the book-and-movie report from my week or so of languishing. Seen or read or heard or done anything good lately?

Evangelic-olution and the Presidential Election

Something that makes the upcoming U.S. Presidential election so interesting to me: It seems like those conservative Protestants called Evangelicals are no longer such a solid block of voters.

Is that true? And if it is, will it make a decisive difference come November? I'm not sure. But here's a little more about what I mean.

It seems that some evangelical leaders (for example, Jim Wallis, head of the Sojourners) have done a lot to broaden what at least some Evangelicals care about. For example, in a radio interview several weeks ago , Wallis mentioned that in recent memory the huge majority of Evangelicals were focused on (1) abortion and (2) same-sex marriage, but that today it is much more likely that an Evangelical will also care about (1) poverty, (2) HIV/AIDS, (3) places like Darfur, (4) climate change, and (5) the war in Iraq.

I think Wallis is right. If he is, then it seems like the Democratic Party would have an easier time getting Evangelicals to vote for their candidate. (That's not to say that I necessarily think that the Democrats' policies are better on those questions. It is to say that, if a person cares about such issues, his perception would likely be that he's a better fit in the Democratic Party).

Among what I'd call "theological influences" that promote that sort of shift would be teachings, for example, that involve care for the Creation in response to humanity's stewardship of the earth, which goes back to Genesis 1 and involves the love of neighbor.

Now, I'm not one for moving to a conclusion without first establishing the premises,. But I might speculate that if American Evangelicals are significantly more diverse now than they were just a few years ago, then this could turn out to be an especially-interesting election.

In short, I think that a recent growth in diversity among American Evangelicals would be a very good sign for Barack Obama.

What do you think?

The Uneventful Event?

Last night's vice-presidential debate featured no knock downs or train wrecks. And much like the first debate between John McCain and Barack Obama, the opponents in this one didn't seem to have won or lost.

As might be expected, Sarah Palin appeared to be more than a little nervous, especially at first. By contrast, Joe Biden, who has experienced a lot of high political drama, seemed much more comfortable.

Because last night's vice-presidential debaters were there mainly to promote presidential candidates, they often sounded like a series of ads, first for Obama, then for McCain, back and forth. There were times when I expected to hear the standard voice-over: "I'm _______, and I approve this message."

Since Michele laughed at me because I watched the debate with pen in hand and a notepad on my lap, you should be especially thankful for the following list of a few other things I noticed:

1. Joe Biden got in a good line when he compared a McCain policy to "the ultimate bridge to nowhere."

2. Considering the pressure that was on Sarah Palin, I thought she performed remarkably well. There were a few times, though, when she couldn't seem to do much more than throw out a string of phrases, reminiscent of the Katie Couric interview.

3. I was amused by a Palin line, used more than once, to the effect that we've got to "Stop the greed and corruption on Wall Street." Good luck with that one.

4. Why is there a correlation between running for high political office and not being able to pronounce the word nuclear? It started with Jimmy Carter, continued with George W. (did his dad do this too?), and now Sarah Palin. They all say "Nucyooler." What's up with that?

5. For all of the grumbling about "politics as usual" this campaign certainly does feel different from previous ones. For example, it seems to me that John McCain's stature as an former prisoner of war generates a deference to him that winds up being returned, at least some of the time. More than once last night, Joe Biden said of McCain, "I love him." Can you imagine, in the Bentsen-Quayle debate featured in yesterday's post, Lloyd Bentsen saying something like that about the former President Bush? This race is very different.

What did you think? What stuck out to you?

20 Years Later: Another Quayle-Bentsen Moment?

Right or wrong, I tend to approach presidential elections a lot like I approach pro football. When it starts getting close to the Super Bowl, I start paying attention.

So I plan to watch the vice-presidential debate tonight, much like I'd watch a play-off game. And I hate to admit it, but I'll watch not so I can hear the policy distinctions between the two tickets, but to see if (a) Joe Biden puts his foot in his mouth and/or (b) Sarah Palin gets rattled and says something goofy.

Does that mean I really couldn't care less about policy distinctions? No. It just means that, as I see it, our one-shot, relatively-short VP debates are much more political theater than they are real debates.

Not to mention that recent history suggests that on election day, the vice-presidential candidate is hardly a consideration. Twenty years ago, George H. W. Bush was elected President in spite of the fact that Lloyd Bentsen humiliated Dan Quayle in one of the most infamous slams in television history.

A Republican sympathizer, when I heard Bensten's line (he couldn't wait to get it out) and saw how scared and stiff Quayle looked, I thought to myself, "That's it. The election's over. We'll have to get used to saying 'President Dukakis'." Of course, it didn't happen. In fact, Bush wound up getting 426 electoral votes compared to 111 for Dukakis.

Yes, I think this election is much different than the one in 1988. And I think this one will be a lot closer. But barring a complete meltdown on one side or the other, which is unlikely, I think the debate tonight will hardly make a difference.

What do you think?

Alexander Campbell's Favorite Joke?

Okay, here's a question for any Stone-Campbell historians out there: Did Alexander Campbell have a favorite joke?

I've heard that he did. If so, I'd like to track it down (that is, if it's to be found among his writings). At this point, all I have is oral tradition. Here's what I recall from what I was told:

Like a lot of brainy, industrious people, Campbell had a lively sense of humor. But like a lot of funny people, he didn't tell many jokes. Instead, he would quip about this, comment on that, often in a way that made people smile. However, there was one joke he liked to repeat. It went something like this:

Once there was a young preacher who was traveling to another city by coach. A few minutes after he boarded, he was joined by two older attorneys, members of a firm which was known for getting its rich, guilty clients off the hook.

Soon after the trip began, one of the lawyers exchanged introductions with the young preacher and asked him, "And what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a preacher of the gospel of Jesus Christ," he said.

Hearing that, the two crusty old men looked at each other as if to say, "Let's have a little fun with this youngster." So one of them started in, doing what lawyers do. Asking questions.

"I've sometimes wondered this about preachers: In the midst of a sermon, do you ever say something that you didn't mean to say? Something erroneous?"

"Yes," said the preacher, "I'd say that happens sometimes."

"Well, in that case, once you realize it was an error, do you go back and correct it?"

"That depends," said the preacher.

"Depends? Depends on what?"

"Well, if it was a serious error of fact, something that makes a real difference, then I go back and correct it. But if the difference is negligible, then I just go on."

"Sounds like a good principle," said the lawyer. "But could you give an example of how you would use it?"

"Alright. Let's say that I went to quote the passage from the Book of Revelation that says, 'All liars shall have their place in the lake of fire.' but instead it came out, 'All lawyers shall have their place in the lake of fire'."

"Well, what would you do?" asked the lawyer, his eyebrows raised high.

"I'd consider that such a slight difference, I'd just go on."

Supposedly, this was Campbell's favorite, oft-repeated joke. Can anyone verify? Cite a source?

What Does "Culture" Mean?

Several weeks ago, I mentioned an assignment: Next month, I'm supposed to speak to a group of older, life-long Christians on the subject of "Christianity and Culture."

I know, this deserves a series of lessons. But I haven't been asked to do that. Just one talk for about 40 minutes.

By the way, last month's presentation on "The Sovereignty of God" came out better than I thought it would. Just one more sign of grace. But back to "Christianity and Culture."

I'm starting with the notion that I know what "Christianity" means. But what about culture? I have to confess I felt a little embarrassed when I first started thinking about that question because, for all the times I've confidently referred to culture (and they are many), I don't think I've ever reflected much on what it means exactly. I had ideas. But they were vague. (Turns out, there's a good reason they were vague. Stay with me here).

So I decided to look up culture in a good dictionary, comparing the definitions, reading about the word's etymology, listing synonyms, etc. Here's a bit of what I found.

I went to the massive, multi-volume Oxford English Dictionary and discovered that, apparently, culture comes from the Latin cultus, a word that was used to speak of what we today call agriculture, the work of farming. And, if there's one picture that's most often associated with culture, it's the picture of a plow tilling the soil (as a means of cultivating a field for the sake of producing a crop).

From there, it must have been a series of steps that led to what people usually mean today when they speak of culture: it is what cultivates a society, making that group of people who they are, ordered and productive (like rows of plants in a field, producing a crop). The Oxford Thesaurus says that synonyms for culture include customs, lifestyle, and way of life.

So you see why my initial thoughts were so vague. According to one definition that showed up in the British Journal of Sociology (vol. 14, 1963) nowadays culture means

the whole complex of learned behavior, the traditions and techniques and the material possessions, the language and other symbols of some body of people. Got it?

Here's a similar definition--which is sort of tongue-in-cheek--from a really fine book on the topic called All God's Children and Blue Suede Shoes: Christians and Popular Culture, by Kenneth A Myers. He says that culture is

a dynamic pattern, an ever-changing matrix of objects, artifacts, sounds, institutions, philosophies, fashions, enthusiasms, myths, prejudices, relationships, attitudes, tastes, rituals, habits, colors, and loves, all embodied in individual people, in groups and collectives and associations of people (many of whom don't know they are associated), in books, in buildings, in the use of time and space, in wars, in jokes, and in food.

So I have a bit of a problem. In my presentation I want to give some kind of definition, a meaningful description of culture. But it's a word that, as currently used, means something like environment or atmosphere.

Before delving into the question of how Christians should think about, respond to, and even shape culture, how 'bout a short, simple definition? Or some kind of analogy? Any thoughts? I'd appreciate hearing what you think.

5 Ways Blogging Has Changed My Life

Okay, so I got tagged by Arlene Kasselman. My assignment (and I've chosen to accept it) is to talk about 5 Ways That Blogging Has Changed My Life. Here goes:

1. Blogging has introduced me to a wide array of usually bright, interesting, funny people of goodwill, people I never would have known about any other way. I really enjoy this blogging culture that I'm a part of.

2. Blogging has forced me to realize what a struggle it is for me to sort out what I think, to say what I mean, and to say it as well as I can. Every week, I run straight into the fact that I don't know exactly what I think and that, once again, I'll have to turn it over in my mind and write it out. Only by doing that can I come to some sort of provisional conclusion. That I have a blog prompts me to keep thinking in front of others.

3. Often, when I get a comment from someone who's read what I've written (and I always feel like a kid getting a present when I see a new comment) the feedback provides me with the sort of "peer review" I don't get any other way.

4. Blogging has often reminded me that we do not know other people in mind only. This is precisely why, when we come to "meet" other bloggers via the Internet, we deeply want to meet them truly, in person. When Paul wrote the celebrated Letter to the Romans, apparently not even that fabulous piece of correspondence could communicate what he wanted to give them; that exchange would have to wait until he saw them face to face (Romans 1:11). To all of my blogging buddies I say, "I long to see you."

5. Blogging has helped to show me and remind me of what an intriguing world this is, what an interesting time it is to be alive. Blogging has been and, for now anyway, will continue to be a part of my life.

Thanks for the tag, Arlene.

Oh, and here's a link to the originator of this chain post.

This time I'm going to forego the tag, partly because a bunch of the folks I might have picked have already been tagged.

The Restoration of Old Testament Christianity

In the "Introduction" to his most recent book, What the Gospels Meant, Gary Wills points out something I found especially interesting: the first biblical scenes depicted in Christian art were not scenes from the New Testament.

Naturally, one would guess that the artists of the catacombs would first portray Jesus. I imagine depictions of him healing a blind man, stilling the storm, talking with the woman at the well, and, above all, hanging on the cross. But all such guesses would be wrong.

True, early Christian artists eventually made Jesus a prominent subject of their work. Most often, we're told, they portrayed him as the Good Shepherd, the one who had graciously gone out seeking the lost sheep, now carried on his shoulders. But before they focused on Jesus, the artists of the church turned their attention to other subjects: Noah, Abraham, Joseph, Moses, Job, and other characters from what Christians would someday call the Old Testament, but which the earliest Christians knew simply as "the holy Scriptures" (2 Timothy 3:15).

From this, Wills makes the point that these typical subjects of early Christian art reflect something bigger: the first followers of Jesus reported more than His words, and stories about what He had done. That much they knew. In fact, some of them were eyewitnesses to the events they told.

But to them, much more than simply talk about Jesus, it was just as important for the first believers to connect the hero of their stories to the promises of God recorded in the Hebrew Scriptures; to relate the Christian message to the legacy and hope of the descendants of Abraham which they knew from their sacred writings.

According to Luke, this point of Christian emphasis was something that started with Christ himself. Speaking with the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, Jesus began with Moses and all the Prophets and explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself (Luke 24:27).

Later, Jesus reminded his disciples that he had told them, Everything must be fulfilled that is written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms (24:44).

As he explained to them the meaning of his death and resurrection, Jesus opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures (24:45).

Starting with that example from Jesus, the early church did more than simply announce that God had raised the crucified Jesus to new and unending life. They were also intent on showing that the deeds of God in Christ were perfectly consistent with the words of God in Scripture. Indeed, one might call this the New Testament pattern. Notice how this turns up in the following passages (with emphasis added):

But now a righteousness from God, apart from law, has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. This righteous from God comes through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. --Romans 3:21-22

For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures. --1 Corinthians 15:3-4

If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham's descendants, and heirs according to the promise. --Galatians 3:29

The last of these quotes--with its reference to Gentile believers being the descendants of Abraham--points to something especially significant. It shows that when Christians of the first century used the language of the Hebrew Bible to describe what God had done through Jesus, they were not simply drawing a line from promise to fulfillment. More than that, they were expressing their view that Jesus Christ is what the Scriptures were all about all along, that one kind of relationship between the Old Testament and the Christian faith is a relationship of identity or essential content.

This does not mean that Christians overlooked or suppressed the literal sense of the Old Testament. For example, Stephen's sermon recorded in Acts 7 contains many references to specific people, places, and periods of time. Nevertheless, the first believers in Jesus also saw in the Old Testament references to Christ and strong continuity between ancient Israel and the Christian movement:

For I do not want you to be ignorant of the fact, brothers, that our forefathers were all under the cloud and that they all passed through the sea. They were all baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea. They all ate the same spiritual food and drank the same spiritual drink; for they drank from the spiritual rock that accompanied them, and that rock was Christ. --1 Corinthians 10:1-4

Here I won't go into the whole question of why Paul says it was a rock (as opposed to fire and cloud) that traveled with the Israelites in the desert, something unexpected to say the least, and sort of funny when you think about it. My main purpose is to simply say that there are plenty of good, biblical reasons for abandoning the old language of "restoring New Testament Christianity." For any such restoration, according to the New Testament itself, would depend upon the history, vocabulary, themes, and promises found in the Old Testament. More than that, the New Testament appears to assume that Christian readers of the Old would, in its pages, consistently meet up with Christ and with themselves and the movement of which they were a part.

I want to stop here and ask: What do you think? What makes sense, or what doesn't? Why is this right, wrong, or some of both?

Memories from the World Trade Center

(First posted on 9/11/05)

As we were learning the terrible truth on the morning of September 11, 2001, there was one person I especially wanted to see: my daughter Chloe. She wanted to see me too.

When she came in from school later that afternoon, our sad eyes met. We stayed in that mutual gaze for a few seconds, both of us knowing exactly what the other was thinking.

Living less than a hundred miles from Manhattan, day trips into "the City" are easy to do and always promise an adventure. Earlier in June of that year, Chloe and I had spent one such day together, just the two of us.

On the train ride down that morning, she told me she was really interested in a visit to Ellis Island. She'd been reading about immigrants who came through there. She wanted to know what they once saw, to imagine how they must have felt. Some of them were Bellizzis.

I thumbed through my guide to New York and realized that we weren't going to be able to make it out to Ellis Island that day. I had scheduled a short appointment with a professor at New York University, hoping to set up a plan to read Classical Hebrew there maybe one day a week. It would be expensive, I thought. But on my day off I could enjoy two loves of my life; New York and Old Hebrew. Besides, going through a terrible divorce, I was pretty desperate for something that would help me to feel happy again. No Ellis Island that day, I told Chloe.

I knew she was disappointed. So I promised her that once we'd gotten my meeting out of the way, she could call the shots. I'd be willing to spring for almost any adventure. But it would have to be in Manhattan.

She hadn't imagined an alternative, and wanted to know what I thought would be a fun Plan B. So I started to ask . . .

The Museum of Natural History? Um. No.

(joking) The American Numismatic Society? Lots and lots of ancient coins! Nobody wants to go there except you, Dad.

I bet my teacher, Dr. Oster, would go with me. Then call him.

A few bookstores? (getting irritated) Dad!

Okay, sorry. . . I know! How 'bout the World Trade Center? What can you do there?

I'm not sure, exactly. (looking it up in the guide) But we could go to the top. Says here that they have places to eat. There's a glassed-in observation deck, and you can take an escalator up to the roof.

(looking at the pictures and starting to smile) Okay. Let's do that.

After the train stop and our walk through Grand Central, we took the subway headed south. Having made it to lower Manhattan, we meandered around in Washington Square Park talking. Then it was over to my appointment, which was over soon enough.

As we stepped out of the office building, I wanted to be sure we'd have enough time that afternoon. So I decided to spend the extra money for a cab instead of the subway. Within a few minutes, the driver was dropping us off so close to the buildings that we couldn't see their tops from inside the car.

Looking at the World Trade Center was sort of like looking at the Grand Canyon. You wondered, "Is it bigger or smaller than it seems?" You also wondered, "How was this ever made?" There on the street, most everything was gray, the sunlight blocked by the shadows of the towers. Even the bright signs had a bit of a pall.

Once inside, it wasn't long before we bought our tickets to take the less-than-a-minute elevator ride to the 107th floor. From that point up, most of the WTC's south tower was the observation deck and a level or two with restaurants and exhibits. We walked around the perimeter of the deck, looking in all directions, reading the signs that told us what we were seeing. Soon we were on the escalator, riding up to the roof.

It was incredible. I remember looking up the length of Manhattan and seeing well past the north end of the island, all the way to those towns in New York that lay beyond the Bronx, and east into Connecticut. To the west was New Jersey. I wondered about the number of miles we could see.

The wind was strong and blustery, a constant sound in the ears, like standing at the edge of the ocean. I remember thinking, "It must be like this all the time up here. Wonder what it's like on a windy day." For a second my imagination turned horrific and I thought about what it would it would be like if an unexpected gust were to take my feet out from under me and send me flying from the top.

Between the office appointment and the cab, we had looked around in a tourist shop and I'd bought one of those disposable cameras. Now I was ready to use it. I especially wanted to get a picture of the two of us facing south, with the Empire State Building and all of those lesser skyscrapers behind us. I asked a young woman if she wouldn't mind. She snapped the photo and smiled as she handed the camera back to me.

The roof wasn't where you wanted to linger. Within few minutes, Chloe and I were having lunch at the pizza place on one of those top floors. I guess I'll never forget one of the songs that played in the background that day. It was Billy Joel's "Lullabye."

Someday we'll all be gone
But lullabyes go on and on
They never die
That's how you and I
Will be . . .

Of course, it made me think of me and Chloe.

I don't recall much about the rest of the day. There was a late afternoon shower, and we bought an umbrella at a little shop on Broadway. I still have that umbrella.

Within a day or two after we'd gotten back, though, I started wondering where that camera was. We looked, but didn't find it. The week following September 11th, we looked a lot more, but it never turned up.

Since then, when I'm not wishing we had that photo, I sometimes think to myself, "Maybe it's just as well."

Either way, I have these memories. Now and then, I hear that song. It always makes me cry.