Non-Fiction Reviews – Page 24 – Books, Brews & Banter

Chameleon Days: An American Childhood in Ethiopia, by Tim Bascom

Tim Bascom’s memoir of his childhood in Ethiopia is fascinating and beautifully written. It begins when three-year-old Tim and his two brothers were uprooted from their Kansas home and taken to Ethiopia by their missionary parents. Because Tim’s father is a doctor, the family first lived near an established missionary hospital. There is much to see and explore in this new and strange world and Tim’s visual memories are clear and colorful.

But when Jonathon, the oldest of the brothers, is sent to a faraway boarding school, both Jonathon and Tim are saddened and frightened. Jonathon is just six and is not at all happy to go. Tim reluctantly follows him when he is seven. They see their family during summers and on very rare visits. It is a difficult challenge for the young boys to be so far from their parents and younger brother in a strange country and for such a long time. But the family’s strong and loving ties helped them through it. The boys came to understand their parents’ strong commitment to the people they came to help and work among.

Ti’s childhood memories are amazingly clear. He finds a chameleon in a poinsettia tree and is fascinated by the little reptile and its abilities to change its color to blend in with its environment. He watches the chameleon’s two large eyes focus simultaneously on two completely different directions— a perfect symbol for the complex demands of missionary children: One “eye” watching desperately for a way to fit into the strange culture and know and understand the Ethiopians while realizing they will never truly belong; the other “eye” never losing sight of the American life they left behind.

Tim’s recollections of his childhood and his surroundings in Ethiopia are narrated with delightful color and wonder. Tim helps us see his pet chameleon crawling cautiously along his finger, eyes swiveling in different directions; Tim’s hiding place and observatory high in an avocado tree; the view of his world from behind the large leaves of a hibiscus tree; the frightening cries of hyenas just outside his bedroom window; and the banquet he and his family attended for Emperor Haile Selassie. As time passes the country becomes full of political unrest and rising turbulence, putting the lives of the missionaries at risk and finally leading to Selassie’s overthrow and the rise to power of brutal Marxist-Leninist regime.

It’s time for the family to return to Kansas. They leave with disappointment and reluctance, but return periodically for brief stays.

Books, Brews and Banter was privileged to have Tim Bascom and his wife Cathleen, the former dean of the Cathedral Church of Saint Paul, come to discuss his book and answer our questions. It was both fun and enlightening to hear about his childhood in Ethiopia from the author himself.

—by Gail Stilwill

Note: Many of us are looking forward to reading Tim’s second book, Running to the Fire.

Being Mortal, by Atul Gawande

In Being Mortal, Gawande tackles a significant challenge of his profession: how medicine can improve life, as well as the process of its ending. In other words, he asserts that medicine can comfort and enhance our experience even to the end, providing not only a good life but also a good end.

Being Mortal is a valuable contribution to the growing literature on aging, death and dying. Despite advances in medicine, he calls for a radical transformation in how we approach the end of life. He states that nursing homes are preoccupied with safety, pinning patients into railed beds and wheelchairs; hospitals isolating the dying, checking for vital signs long after the goals of cure have become moot; and doctors, committed to extending life, continuing to carry out devastating procedures that in the end extend suffering.

His early description of how the body decays with age is nothing if not sobering. From the news that an elderly person’s shrinking brain can actually be knocked around inside the skull to the way a tooth can determine a person’s age, he goes through a litany of descriptions of how the body goes through scary decaying changes.

He states that it is unfortunate that the number of doctors willing to become geriatricians is shrinking, primarily because the field is not as lucrative as most other specialties and because it provides so little instant satisfaction, and requires such work as a detailed, lengthy examination of callused old feet. Patients are usually deaf and forgetful, can’t see, have trouble understanding what the doctor is saying, have not one complaint but fifteen, have high blood pressure, diabetes and arthritis. “There’s nothing glamorous about taking care of any of those things,\” he writes. But, he contends that patients who receive good geriatric care stay happier and healthier, particularly those who can remain at home and aren’t forced into a nursing home.

At the end of the book, he states that, “The debate is about what mistakes we fear most – the mistake of prolonging suffering or the mistake of shortening valued life.” While posing that there are no perfect solutions, he asks that medicine commit itself to creating better options and making choices with the goal of a purposeful life in mind.

Aside from suggesting it be read by physicians, I also strongly believe it should be read by everyone over sixty, and well as their children who will like be involved in the decisions that need to be made toward the end of life.

—Ken Johnson

An Altar in the World, by Barbara Brown Taylor

“Spiritual but not religious” is one of the newer and increasingly common ways people describe themselves. But what do they mean and what does the phrase mean for those of us struggling to keep the Church — at least, organized religion — relevant?

These are the central questions in “An Altar in the World,” by Barbara Brown Taylor, a religion professor who was a parish priest.

‘Spiritual’ may be the name for a longing – for more meaning, more feeling, more connection, more life. … They know there is more to life than what meets the eye. They have drawn close to this ‘More’ in nature, in love, in art, in grief. They would be happy for someone to teach them how to spend more time in the presence of this deeper reality, but when they visit the places where such knowledge is supposed to be found, they often find the rituals hollow and the language antique.

People aren’t as interested in being told about God as they are in experiencing God. Taylor offers 12 practices for building an altar in the world, for experiencing God. Most of them are variations on the “mindfulness” theme — being aware of yourself, your feelings, your surroundings, those around you — strangers as well as friends — even your own pain. Because of the pace at which most of us live today in our culture, we are rarely truly present in the moment as we dash from deadline to deadline and crisis to crisis, unaware of God’s presence and the opportunity to experience it.

Reverence, Taylor says, is an important part of Paying Attention (practice #2). While our culture reveres money, power, education and religion, philosopher Paul Woodruff argues that true reverence is by definition “the recognition of something greater than the self — something that is beyond human creation or control, that transcends full human understanding.”

Taylor asks, “What awakens awe in you by reminding you of your true size?” This is where and how you will experience the divine More.

She also advises Getting Lost (practice #5) as the only way to find unexpected treasures and blessings, and Feeling Pain (practice #10), for the world’s great religions all grew out of pain.

The practice that took me by the throat and left me breathless was #8 — Saying No. Much has been said in many contexts about the pitfalls of our over-scheduled lives, but Taylor makes a strong case for the extent to which this lifestyle separates us from God.

“Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy” is a commandment, she points out, just like “Have no other Gods before me,” “Do not commit murder,” “Do not bear false witness,” “Honor your parents” and “Do not steal.” When did we decide it was optional?

Think about THAT for a moment.

Certainly, there are people for whom Sunday must be a day of work — those who keep us all safe and healthy. But what about the rest of us? Does Sunday need to be a day just all the others except for 90 minutes in the morning?

My husband, Martin, and I talked about this at length and decided to try to keep the Sabbath during Lent. We knew it would be challenging, but as of January 15, we are both retired and no longer have Monday morning deadlines to worry about.

Traditionally, those who keep the Sabbath also avoid things that cause other people to work — so no brunches or suppers out, no movies, no shopping. We have to plan ahead to have food prepared that can be simply put in the oven or crockpot and offer left-overs for reheating for supper. Anything that will need to be ironed for church must be ironed before bedtime Saturday night. The coffee is made so we only push a button Sunday morning.

For purely sanitation/health reasons, we do put dishes in the dishwasher on Sunday, but unloading must be done on SaturdayDusting, sweeping, folding clothes, picking up — all attended to on Saturday or they go undone until Monday.

With all that time on Sunday, we breathe. We breathe in the sunlight or the shadows, the warm or the cold, the snow or budding trees, our cardinals and now our robins, each other’s presence and the Holy Spirit. We pray, we talk, we read things that help keep us centered on the Sabbath. In the interests of full disclosure, March Madness was allowed; but strangely enough, the despair over losses didn’t provoke the depth of feeling we usually experience around here. They were games, and we were aware of the joy of playing at this level.

As the weeks have gone by, I’m finding I enjoy Saturdays more. I’m busy getting ready for Sunday with a real sense of anticipation!

We are talking about continuing the Sabbath after Easter. Martin had concerns about golf, but I think play should be allowed, especially when it’s outside in God’s creation. We hope to spend more time with family and friends on our Sabbaths — when we can find some who aren’t too busy with “things.” Call us, if you are so moved.

One other thought: Taylor says the rabbis she knows tell her their people who keep the Sabbath also tend to keep the other commandments. Seems the Israelites were really onto something!

—by Ronda Menke Haas