Scheherazade

At the storytelling concert, one of the tellers shared an old story that I heard before, but I heard it in a new way and would like to share it.

There once was a Persian king who was happily married and ruled over a happy kingdom.  But then one day, he found that his wife, whom he truly loved, had been unfaithful to him.  He sought out her lover and had him killed.  And then as the law was in his country, he had his wife beheaded in the public square.

His anger burned hot within him.  Soon as he looked about his kingdom he stopped seeing women and began to see only the possibility of betrayal.  He decided that he would eliminate the possibility of infidelity by marrying a new wife each day and then having her executed the next morning.  In this way, no woman would betray him again.

It was the unhappy task of the vizier to choose the bride of the day.  He did his job with sad obedience and selected a new woman each morning.  He sat her at the marriage feast.  And in the morning he marched her in chains to the square to be beheaded.

It didn't take long for the people of the kingdom who had the means to send their daughters off to far places or if they lacked the wealth to encourage them to flee.  The day came when the vizier could find no woman to offer the King.  As he worried what to tell his master, his daughter Scheherazade told him that she was ready to be the king's bride.

The vizier told his daughter that he had a special dispensation from the king and he did not have to offer his own daughters.  But Scheherazade insisted and the vizier reluctantly agreed to let her be the day's bride.  With tears in his eyes, he led her to the marriage banquet.  He watched with sadness as she went with the king to the wedding chamber.

As the evening progressed, the king noticed that Scheherazade had tears in her eyes.  "You volunteered to do this, but now you cry?" he asked.  She explained that her tears were not for herself, but because she could not say one last goodbye to her sister.

The king thought there would be no harm in that, so he invited the younger sister to come to the bedroom for a final goodbye.  After they kissed and embraced, Scheherazade's sister implored her to tell a story as she did each night.  So with the king's leave, she began a story that engrossed the king as well as her sister.  And then the sun began to rise, and she stopped right in the middle of the story.  "These stories are for the night not for the day."

The dejected vizier took a piece of regal cloth with him to the palace in the morning, expecting to cover his daughter's body with it after her execution.  The king took his place on the throne and issued decree after decree and order after order.  But never did he call for Scheherazade's death.

The marriage banquet was held for the second night for the first time with the same bride.  The food tasted a little better, the mood seemed a little lighter.  And Scheherazade called for her sister and finished one story, began another and stopped in the middle of it as the sun rose.

For 1,001 nights she told every story she could create and find.  During this time, she bore the king three sons and participated in each night's wedding banquet.  Finally she told the king, "I have no more stories, do what you will."

But the stories had changed the king.  He had grown to truly love Scheherazade and to trust her.  "You will not be killed," he told her, "your stories have saved you."

The king wanted to use a sword to change the world, but stories changed his heart.

Who Tells The Story

The lion cub came to his father and asked, "Father is it true that we are the kings of the Jungle."

"Oh yes, it is true, boy."  he said shaking his head and bristling his mane.  "We are the strongest, fiercest, proudest creatures on the earth."

"Why then," the curious cub asked, "do the men tell stories about hunting us.  And they always tell stories that end with us being shot and dying.  Are we still the kings of the jungle?"

The wise lion looked in his sons eyes,  "Yes, we are the kings of the jungle, but so it will be until lions tell the stories."

This powerful African fable was told by the keynote speaker at the Storytelling Conference.  She called it the danger of the single story.  When only one person is allowed to frame and reflect on events it inevitably lacks the depth, context and perspective of reality.

As we sat in one of our small group sessions, the leader asked the room of about 40 of us to introduce ourselves.  About fifteen introduced themselves as "tellers".  An equal number gave their occupation as educators.  The rest were a rather varied bunch.  A few who were there just out of interest, while others were in social services.  I suppose because we are near Hollywood, there were three people who introduced themselves as producers.  Strangely, there were an equal number of physicians and ministers (2 each).  Perhaps not so strangely there were no bankers, oil executives, or scientists.  Although I suspect that the world might be a better place if some of them attended an event like this.

At a later gathering, a woman at the back raised her hand in response to a question.  "I'm from Kentucky," she said.  I thought to myself, wow a kindred spirit.  But then she continued.  "I kept getting rejected for a grant, but finally got it.  You can't imagine with the economic and religious climate in Kentucky how difficult it is to get a grant to start a palm reading business."  She said it just as naturally as could be.  She didn't act like she expected anyone to have any reaction other than, "You poor thing, we understand, how unenlightened those people in Kentucky are."  The room was quiet and polite as she spoke, but I suspect I was not the only one to think "You are a crazy woman."

And yet, her story is a part of the story of this conference.  It may not be a dominant narrative or a persuasive one, but it is a thread in the great tapestry of stories that have gathered at this conference.

One speaker did an interesting exercise when all the members of the conference were gathered.  She had each person write down the first two responses that came to each of the following questions:  What was your most formative relationship?  What do you never want to go through?  What do you really want for the future?

She then asked the members of the audience to stand or remain standing if they had written any of the following.  Was the most formative relationship you recorded with a person in your family or a special teacher?  Did you never want to go through debilitating illness or loss?  Did you hope for the success of your children or travel?

When she was finished with these six responses, every person in the room was standing.  People from around the world.  Men and women.  Black, brown and white.  Young and old.  Preacher and palm reader.  Every single person.

So many stories in the room, but the same hopes and fears.

Around The Fire

Last night, the National Storytelling Conference kicked off here in LA.  I really  had no idea what to expect.  I'm used to the churchy meetings that I typically attend.  Those I know.  The people, the schedule, the topics all so familiar that I can go through them while sleep-walking.

I walked into the ballroom and didn't know a single one of the 450 or so who were gathered.  I had often wondered who might show up at a storytelling conference.  How does someone decide they are a storyteller?  Do they wake up one morning and say, "Gosh darn it, I think I can really tell a yarn."  There is no governing body to ordain someone, so all that is necessary is a self-declaration.  "I am a storyteller," and then you are.  It is not like the Kentucky Derby where you have to earn enough money before you're in the field, you just have to show up.

So to be honest, I guess I suspected a rather motley bunch.  Some who really were professionals.  Others who were wannabes.  Many square pegs who didn't fit into the round holes of usual society.  Generally, I thought there might be a hippie/artist vibe.

So as I sat there, the reality that emerged was far different.  Yes, there were a few folks who looked just like I thought they would, but they were the minority.  Most of the crowd was just as plain as any other group that I attend.  It was surprisingly 75% female (Are women more attune to the narrative of life?).  The group was also older.  I was among the younger members of the group (which may be true or it may be my vast underestimation of my actual age).  I'm not sure whether this speaks to the freedom of travel and resources of older people or is instead a warning about the devaluing of oral tradition in a digital age.

The program was excellent (I got more stories I could poach for preaching in two hours than I ever get at a preaching conference).  The room was full of energy and we heard a variety of voices.  The highlight may have been Locked Up In Malibu.  These were incarcerated juveniles who as a part of their rehabilitation take part in an improv group.

It is a great conference, but I still feel a little odd though.  Yes, I tell stories--but I am uncomfortable calling myself a storyteller.  Then again, I read this week that the word "gospel" is from the Old English meaning "God's story."  So preaching is really story-telling.  And I guess that makes me a story-teller whether I choose that title for myself or not.

Vestigal Organs

Doctors call the appendix a vestigal organ.  It seems to have no discernible function.  It may have done something once, but whatever it did was unnecessary or redundant.  So now, it's only function is to get infected and make someone progressively sicker until it is removed.  In the body a vestigal organ is a neutral or negative thing.

I thought about this as I visited Disneyland this week.  55 years of history have left all sorts of vestigal organs in the body of the park.

Sometimes they are intentional.  Many of the windows on Main Street are painted with created occupations and real names of people who made a difference at Disney.  These not only provide atmosphere, but also memorialize important people in the history of the company.

Or, there are the homages to previous attractions that remain unnoticed by most park goers.  After the recent Rivers of America rehab (the river that runs around Tom Sawyer Island) a boat was placed for atmosphere pulled up on the shore by a cabin.  Most people don't realize that it is a repainted keelboat from the long defunct Mike Fink Keelboat ride.

Others are still there because they are too difficult to remove.  There is a hole in the middle of the Matterhorn where the skyway cars used to make their leisurely, floating trip above the park.  A similar hole at ground level in another spot is what is left of the old mine ride.

In Tomorrowland, there is another example of a vestigal organ.  Winding on pillars above the sidewalks is a desserted track.  On it, the attraction Rocket Rod's used to speed about the area.  Now they are a rare example of urban decay in the happiest place on earth.

For most people these things are only background, but to those who know the park, they are significant pieces of history.  It reminds me of our most prominent vestigal organs at Faith.  There in the R.A., on the wall opposite the window is the picture frame box with no hole inside it.  Those who know our church know it was the baptistry years ago.  Now it exists there unnoticed by most, and many may not even know why it is there.

I think it is good practice for your history to show.  It reminds you that a place has depths and memories.  Disney might be able to scrub its parks of all of the now retired attractions, but they haven't.  It may be for economic reasons, but I think it has the practical effect of reminding everyone that the park existed before they came and will exist long after they have gone.

These organs may be vestigal, but without it a way we have to remember who we are would be lost.

We'll Leave The Light On For You

Yesterday, I went on a guided tour of Disneyland.  My guide was a young lady named Karen who gives these tours on a regular basis.  She was a delight and full of interesting tidbits.

The focus of the tour was how Walt Disney shaped the park from its beginning until his death.  She shared a number of significant details about the plan, construction and maintenance of Disneyland.  At several points, she shared tapes of Walt speaking on a variety of themes.  It was a great opportunity.

I was shown the lobby of the exclusive hidden restaurant in the New Orleans Square section called Club 33.  Walt built it to entertain his important Hollywood friends.  It sits behind a plain door, but it has a closed membership list and only the invited are allowed to enter.  We were not allowed upstairs to the club area, but only into the opulent lobby that includes an exact replica of a lift from Europe that Walt fell in love with on a visit there.

I saw the wonders of the Enchanted Tiki Room up close.  It is not a great show, but an amazing technical achievement considering its completion in 1963.  Karen demonstrated how the singing orchids work.

One of the many things that caught my attention was on Main Street.  As you enter the park to the left, there is the town hall with the fire department next door.  I already knew that Walt had an apartment built over the fire department's engine bay.

While Disneyland was being constructed, he often spent the night on the property.  He enjoyed having the ability to watch it all come together.  His wife accused him of living at the park.

Karen pointed out something I didn't know.   The light in the middle window was burning.  It seems that whenever Walt was in the apartment he left the light on.  It was a way of letting the workers know that the boss was watching.  That light is now never extinguished to remind employees that Walt's spirit is ever vigilant in the park.

It reminded me that too often we get involved in doing our work and forget why we are doing it.  When that happens, it is easy to become bored and disinterested.  But that light shining in the window makes sure that Disney employees remember why they are there.

I suspect that churches would run a lot better if we had some perpetual reminder of God's presence.  Perhaps instead of just going through the motions, we would work with more vigor and fire because we would know that the boss is watching.  Let's disregard our Mom's and the power company and leave the light on.

Disneyland at 55

It was just by a week or so that I missed the big celebration. Disneyland in California is now 55 years old, but with continual maintenance (the park equivalent of plastic surgery) it doesn't look a day over ten.

I have had the rare opportunity to visit Disneyland, Disneyland Paris, and the Magic Kingdom at Disneyworld in a little more than a month's time. It is quite interesting to note the similarities and differences in the parks. Some ideas are in all three (e.g. the hub and spoke design of the parks). Other exist with the same name but different executions (Space Mountain in California has an outside line and cars that have side by side riders, in Florida the line is inside with single file riders, in Paris the ride actually goes out of the building for a moment or two). Each park also has its uniquenesses (here in California they include the big mast ship, canoes, the Casey Jr. Storyland Train, and Great Moments With Mr. Lincoln for example).

So even though the parks have similar designs they have unique feels.

What strikes me about Disneyland?

It is a lot smaller than the other parks. Disney was limited in funds when the Mother Park was built. The central castle is only 77 feet tall (in Florida it is over a hundred feet taller). But it is smaller in other ways as well. The paths are not nearly as wide, Main Street is shorter, the stores are more cramped, and many of the lines for rides meander out on the sidewalk. Altogether it makes the park seem fuller with people even though its capacity is smaller than the Magic Kingdom.

Disneyland also seems a little rougher and less polished in its content. The Haunted Mansion is more tilted to fright than fun (at one point you look up to see a hanging body). The Jungle Cruise has menacing animals and threatening natives. It appears that the rides reflect Walt's sensibilities more than corporate lawyers and those who wish to protect the delicate minds of children.

Disneyland also appears to have a stronger local appeal. Disney World attracts the world (there seemed to be more Argentines and Brazilians than U.S. citizens when we were there recently). I look atound here and see mainly Southern Californians.

The more I look the more convinced I am that like the Christian world the level of focus makes all the diference. Taken wide enough, at a gloss, the Disney Parks and Christian groups all look alike. But take some time and tighten the focus and it becones clear that each has its own distinctives.

Driving Day

With Janet safely back in Kentucky and my visits in San Francisco completed, I got in the car early this morning (o.k. not so early to those in the Eastern Time Zone, but early here).  I left behind the hotel next to the San Francisco airport where we had spent the weekend.

It was a lovely spot.  surrounded on two of four sides with the bay that at times filled its banks with powerful chop and at others left only a tenuous looking stream in the midst of mud flats.  In the distance, the hills between the airport and the ocean were covered with an almost continual bank of clouds that rolled down like waves on occasion to coat the lower ground with fog.

I pulled out and headed south on the six lane wide ribbons of asphalt.  When I finally left the urban sprawl behind, the road began to climb.  The plants became heartier and more numerous.  I drove up into the cloud bank and a gentle mist began to settle on my windshield.  The temperature remained cool as it had for our entire stay in San Francisco with highs each day in the low 60's.

The fog began to lift as I descended from the mountain and the world had changed.  The temperature began to rise reaching the mid 80's in just a few hours.  I found myself in a huge and fertile valley.  Every hundred yards or so were farmer's curbside produce stands.  The offerings varied from cherries to asparagus to oranges to grapes.

The road took me through Gilroy, which if you didn't know, is the garlic capital of the United States.  And if I hadn't known ahead of time, I would certainly have known after the olfactory assault through the car vents.  For the next three hours, I drove through flat, fertile farmlands surrounded by double hitched produce trucks both empty and full.  They appeared to be big corporate farms, but their orderly rows and abundant life brought a sense of hope.

Finally, I began my climb out of the beautiful and vast farmland and began to again see the scrub on mountain sides.  According to the signs, the climb was through a pass that reached 4000 feet.  Looking to the side of the road, there was at one point a crystal clear body of water with a boat pushing out a white plume and wake.

I spent the first hours of my journey in rapturous wonder at the beauty and variety of California.

But then, I started to descend out of the mountains in the LA basin and it was no longer the gentle fog on cat feet that rolled from the mountain, but a blanket of  oppressive smog that obscured my view.  The traffic clogged like arteries after White Castle.

I think it was exactly what Tolkien had in mind when he created Mordor.

A Trip To The Museum

The primary purpose of my trip to San Francisco was completed yesterday.

It struck me as a bit strange when I saw the announcement just over a year ago, now.

Marceline, of course, made perfect sense.  There in the plains of Missouri, is the town created by the railroad years ago.  Those days of smoke-belching train engines needing a stop between Kansas City and Chicago are now gone, consigned to the memory of those in their seventies and eighties.  It now is a sleepy little place slipping back into its agricultural roots.  It is the sort of place where the children grow up, go to college and move away.

The rail station, no longer needed for its original purpose, has been retrofitted into a museum in honor of the town's favorite one-time resident--Walt Disney.  This is a charming, cobbled-together collection of random artifacts lovingly displayed in aged glass cases.  The museum has no connection to the Walt Disney company and their holdings come primarily from one member of Walt's family who thought the town should have them.  The people who work there have the sort of municipal pride that only those who have lived in a place all their lives can nurture.

It seemed much odder when I saw that the Walt Disney Family Museum was going to open in The Presidio in San Francisco.  Walt never lived in San Francisco.  The Presidio is a former military base by the bay which has been turned into a cross between a park and an exclusive up-scale community.  There are no other museums in the area.

When I asked one of the docents, who was dressed like a theater usher, why the museum was here and not in Los Angeles, he told me, "Diane Disney Miller (Walt's Daughter) has lived here in San Francisco for most of her life and had put all her father's things in storage in a warehouse in The Presidio."

And what a collection it is.  Quite simply it is like walking through the biography of Walt Disney come to life.  Multimedia experiences, lighting, architectural distinctions all lie within the outer shell of the building which remains identical to all the others in the area.

I'm not sure if everyone would enjoy this museum as much as I did, but I was like a kid in a candy store.  The building has only ten rooms, but it took me almost two hours to get through the first four.  By this time, I had lived with Walt all the way through the making of Snow White.  Because of time constraints, I moved much faster through the reset of the museum, I could have spent several days and not exhausted my curiosity or the resources there.

This museum in The Presidio is not a shoe-string job by a community holding on to a different age (which is not to criticize Marceline, but to praise it), but a spare no expense effort by the family to tell their own story.  The resources are comprehensive and engaging.  Like any family effort, despite some notable efforts to include varying views, the over-all effort enforces an all-together positive and uncritical appraisal of Walt and his life.  The primary resources for research are outstanding.

I am glad that I went to both Marceline and San Francisco.  They are very different places, but both speak to the needs of people to preserve and solidify the fleeting wisps of memory.  Doing so gives us hope that someday, we too will be remembered.

My Memory That's Not Mine

When I woke up this morning in San Francisco, a memory quickly came to my mind.

You may not know that I lived in San Jose, CA from ages 1-5.  My family would on occasion head from home to nearby San Francisco to see the sights.

Because of my age while here, I don't have that many memories of California.  I remember a bad dream, making snow angels somewhere in Northern California, waking up to see a snow flurry (it was a rarity in San Jose), riding my bike on a construction site (and the ensuing scolding for getting myself and bike so dirty), walking through a mud patch on a shortcut to school and my shoe being sucked off by the muck, jumping off of the jungle gym behind my house and knocking the wind out of my lungs, and a bug bite from what I thought was a friendly bug until I felt the burning in the center of my palm.

But sitting in San Francisco, it is another memory that comes to mind.  It is a memory of me but not mine, and yet in its own way, it is as vivid as if it were my own.  It is a part of me even though I don't remember it in the traditional way.

It is a family memory, repeated to me so often it has the concrete feel of personal recollection.  We were on our way for some sight-seeing in San Francisco.  I was getting on the bus and the driver asked me where I was headed.  In a cute fashion (that I haven't been able to pull off in 40 years), I looked at him with adult seriousness and told him "San Fran Sicko."  This seemed to be the highlight of the driver's day as he asked me several times to repeat my destination.

This makes me reflect on the importance of corporate memory.  We are made not only of our own memories, but of other's memories of us and the memories of our community.  When we tell our stories to each other, we invite them to join us as a possessor and even a participant in the recollection.

Essentially the church is a community defined by it memories of itself and the memories of those who went before and those canonized in the scriptures.  When we enter into the sharing of these corporate remembrances, they become our own, even if we don't/can't remember them ourselves.

Red Paint

When Disney launched the tethered balloon, it was clear they had a problem.

Disney World in Florida is located on a very flat piece of  drained swamp.  Whenever they consider adding a new attraction, they float a weather balloon to the height of the proposed attraction and then look to see how it will visually effect the area around it.

The year was 1993, and Disney had decided to build a new thrill ride at Disney Hollywood Studios (named at the time Disney/MGM Studios).  It was going to be the tallest structure in the Florida complex at 199 feet (no building at Disney World is taller than 200 feet because the law requires that any edifice that tall have a flashing beacon for airplanes).

The ride would be called The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror.  It would tell the story of a hotel that was struck by lightning years previously and was now abandoned.  Riders would walk through the now abandoned lobby and go to the basement to board the service elevator which was still working.  The catch, when they get on the elevator, it goes up and then suddenly releases and lifts in a series of unexpected movements.

The ride building on its outside was going to recreate a luxury hotel from the 1920's in California.  Plans were made and everything was a go.

And then they raised the balloon.  And as you stood in Epcot looking over Morocco, there clear as day was the balloon.

Disney is obsessive about on-stage areas not having lines of sight into backstage areas.  They take care to make sure that there is no visual confusion or clutter.  A hotel building towering over the skyline of Morocco would surely look out of place.

What they decided to do was truly ingenious.  The front and sides of the building that could be seen in Hollywood Studios would be built to resemble a hotel.  But the back side of the attraction which could not be seen in the park but could be seen from Epcot would have in its upper stories Moroccan features.

So today if you stand in Epcot, you will see a large building off in the distance which blends in perfectly with the foreground.  This is accomplished not only through architecture, but also by the entire building being painted the same pinkish-red color as the rest of the structures in Epcot's Morocco.

So if you ever wondered why The Tower of Terror is that strange color of red, now you know why.

What Lasts

While at Disney World, we went to see the 3-D movie Captain EO.

It premiered at Disney in 1986 amidst great hoopla.  The park promoted it as the first 4-D experience because not only did the screen have depth, the theater itself has additional lighting and effects (when an elephant-like creature sneezes, the audience is sprayed with water--at least I hope it was water).

The movie was created by some of the biggest names in film at the time.  George Lucas and Francis Ford Copola both were involved in directing and producing the short.  It stars Michael Jackson (pre-scandals) and Anjelica Huston,

The 17 minutes film was quite expensive to make.  At 1.75 million dollars a minute, it was at the time the most expensive film by running time ever made.

The plot is relatively simple.  Jackson is the captain of a ship sent to a planet to give a gift to its supreme leader.  The planet is hostile and industrial, but Jackson and his crew of animated and muppet-like figures make their way into the heart of power.  There they face opposition, but Jackson uses the power of song and dance to free all the enslaved, including the spider like supreme leader.

The film was removed from Disney parks in 1996 when Jackson's legal problems tarnished his image.  It was replaced by the Honey, I Shrunk the Audience experience.  But this year, following Jackson's death, Disney returned the attraction in his memory  (a reminder that death can be the best PR move to reform the image of some people).

I have to say that I thought it was terrible.  The plot is inane.  The characters are overblown and the non-human characters ridiculous.  What was cutting edge 3-D film that dazzled and amazed in '86 is now so out-dated that it appears dark and almost indecipherable (quite a come down from Toy Story 3 which we had seen in 3-D a couple of days earlier).  The whole thing has the sensibilities of an '80's music video.

As I watched, it made me think that the only reason anyone was there was nostalgia or they had no idea what it was when they walked in the theater.  The film simply has not aged well.

Then I thought about the Dumbo ride.  It premiered in 1955 with the opening of Disneyland.  And it still has lines and it still delivers the same unadulterated joy to its target audience.  It is no marvel of technology.  It is not cutting edge.  It is classic and those elephants will spin in their irregular up and down arcs long after the most expensive movie ever made gathers dust in the corner replaced by newer and better technology.  In fact, Disney has announced that they are building a twin to the Dumbo ride in Florida and will place it next to the other allowing even more people to enjoy the classic experience.

The next thing is always replaced by the next thing, but there is always a place for the big-eared elephant.

Dying Alone

Walt Disney was famous.  And I don't mean famous in the sense it is used today.  Today our celebrities are famous for being famous, not for any real accomplishments.  They can do nothing without being in a crowd.

Walt was famous because he took his hopes and a shoe string operation to Hollywood and made a studio.

Walt was famous because he made the first full length animated feature and grossed $7 million dollars, an amount larger than any film up to that point (and this was 1937 dollars--adjusted by the consumer price index, it would be equivalent to $103.5 million today).   For further context, the average ticket price that year was just under a quarter.  That means that Snow White sold over 28 million tickets.  With the population hovering at 129 million or so, this means that slightly fewer than 1 in 4 people in the US bought a ticket.  It was dethroned from its earnings perch by Gone With The Wind, but that may have been because the Scarlet O'Hara movie sold far fewer half-price children's tickets.

Walt was famous because he felt that he had done all he could do with movies and took some of his most trusted employees and designed a movie come to life that people could enter and find themselves immersed in a new reality.  He didn't have the money to build it, so he launched a weekly television show to promote it.  And within a few years, Disneyland made enough money that he was able to buy back the share of the park he had sold to the network for airing the program.

Walt was famous because he was an everyman.  He was not a suit in the building, but would often go to Disneyland to walk around and talk with the people there.  In the early days, he would sometimes go to the ice cream shop on Main Street and scoop for customers.  He would ride the Jungle Cruise incognito and time the pilot's journey to make sure that it lasted long enough.

Walt was on television all of the time, his name ubiquitous.  Everyone thought they knew him.

But like many people who are friends to everyone he had a hard time developing real friendships.  He guarded his personal life and feelings.  Many people could say they worked closely with him.  Few people could say that he trusted himself with them.

When he was diagnosed with lung cancer after a life of serial smoking, he didn't tell anyone but a few of his closest friends.  When it began to become obvious to everyone that something was wrong, he underplayed the seriousness of his condition.  Some say that his greatest performance was when he struggled into the studio and recorded his pitch to the state of Florida about Epcot and Disney World.  He almost literally collapsed when the red light went off and the taping was over.

One of the most startling things I learned in researching Walt was that when arguably the best known person in the U.S. died of lung cancer in his hospital room he was the only person there.  No family was there, no hospital personnel, no co-workers--no one.  His final uncompleted project was a utopian community that would overcome all of the problems of modern society, and ironically his death was an illustration of the death of community in modern society.

The famous Walt Disney died alone.

A Land Free of Gum

In 1992, Singapore banned both the import and the personal possession of chewing gum.  The country, obsessed with the appearance of their land, was concerned that the gum would end up not in trash cans, but on seats and under railings.

The country practices a rigidly enforced and lengthly list of laws and statues to make sure that everything remains clean.  Don't believe me?  It is illegal to fail to flush a public toilet.  Or ask Michael Fay, the American teenager, who spray painted some graffiti (clearly more serious than gum chewing or leaving the urinal without a flush, but a misdemeanor in the U.S.).  He was sentenced to a caning (basically a public flogging).  How's that for a totalitarian regime (actually they are a democracy, so all of this is done with the consent of the governed).

You can buy almost anything you can imagine in Disney World.  In fact, the whole place is almost as much a shopping destination as it is a theme park.  In addition to the obligatory $10 memory trinkets, there is a wide, wide field of products available.

Need groceries?  The resorts have small convenience store like corners in their gift shops.  Need toys, games, DVDs?  All over the place.  Want a camera or film?  No problem.  Cookware or home goods?  You can get anything from subtle Mickey patterns to over the top screaming garish icons.  And if you are looking for more exotic fare, they probably have it at Epcot:  $1500 jade sculptures in China, wasabi coated peas and dried squid in Japan, perfume in France, and even athletic shoes in Germany.

But like Singapore, what you can't buy at Disney World is chewing gum.  And the ban at Disney theme parks goes way past '92.  When Walt opened Disneyland in California 55 years ago, he imagined not the enjoyment of those at the park chewing gum, but the terminus of said gum.  He decreed that there would be no chewing gum on the overflowing racks of merchandise.

It is not illegal to bring it into the park, but that may be just because even Disney doesn't have that sort of governmental authority.  But if you are caught defacing the property by leaving it in the wrong place, you can be certain there will be consequences.

Disney doesn't need the toilet law now that modern electric eye technology has made their toilets flush automatically.  And graffiti is non-existent since the company would eject you from the park if you were caught and have been known to ban some persons from the property for life.

So the next time you are on Jeopardy and Alex looks you in the eye on Final Jeopardy with Ken Jennings smugly smiling beside you and says, "Its not available in Singapore or Disney World."  You can smugly smile having risked it all and write the question "What is gum?"

Church?

Yesterday, we went to church--sort of.

I had long wanted to attend the gospel brunch at the House of Blues in Downtown Disney, but the opportunity had never arrived until yesterday.

I waited outside in the wilting summer heat with curiosity and anticipation.  We entered and turned in our tickets and were seated on a particularly uncomfortable pew in the balcony to the side of the stage.  There was a table level board attached to the rail in front of us.

We were then directed to the abundant buffet, a celebration of excess which began with breakfast items and went into a creole lunch.  If the 18 feet of food was not enough, there was another station set up by the bar where a carver could provide ham or beef, trays of corn bread and biscuits and a dizzying array of desserts.

It was a reminder that this was not like church the way I was used to experiencing it.  In Baptist circles, the pot-luck is free and happens after the service, not as a prelude to it.  We also don't have a disco ball on the ceiling or swirling spots on the stage curtains.

Finally, the curtains parted and revealed an ensemble of eight performers and a small band.  From the very beginning, everything was unapologetically Christian in tone and concept.  The show began with a quotation about worship from the Pslams.  The performers/worship leaders were energetic, engaging and talented.

The first couple of songs were fast-paced joyous affairs with clapping and standing.  The mood of the service then shifted to a more somber tone and the music became a more pensive ballad.  The lead singer said, "You've come today for a show, but I hope you don't mind if we do a little ministry."  She then listed the sorts of burdens that a person might have brought with them and launched into a song that reminded those present that God is with them all the time.  As the program came to its conclusion, the mood shifted to celebration as all the July birthdays and anniversaries were invited to come and join the choir on the stage for a rousing song of praise.

The level of performance was exemplary.  I also was pleasantly surprised by the Christian sincerity of the performers.  What interested me most was that in the short period of time they were on stage the music created a powerful trajectory--joyful worship to thoughtful reflection on the imperfections of life to celebration for God's gifts.

I went into the House of Blues expecting a show but left having been to church.

Largest Parking Lot

It never ceases to amaze me how the folks at Disney move so many people around in what seems to be such seamless ease.  I know that there has to be a science to the whole process for it to work so well.  When we visited London, the traffic was a disaster.  Our bus tour may as well have been a walking tour.

But pulling off at one of the four interstate exchanges  that proclaim Disney World, I have never seen a traffic tie-up (not saying it doesn't happen, just haven't seen it). Even at night when the parks close, the exit is quicker and easier than any other large event parking I have attended.

Don't forget to throw on top of it that the folks driving cars here at the park are almost all not locals.  This means there are continuous ridiculous lane changes and slow drivers looking for signs.  It is the recipe for a disaster, but somehow Disney pulls it off.

I got to thinking about this when the tram driver at Epcot told us to make sure where we parked our car because this was the second largest parking lot in North America.  First, I was stunned and then I began to wonder just what the largest one was.  Is it I-75 during the World Equestrian Games?  Then I went to Google and determined that this claim is based either on area of the lot (the equivalent of 140 football fields) or parking facilities without garages (in which case Magic Kingdom is number one with over 12,000 spaces) or a tram operator spouting nonsense (there is a parking facility at a mall in Edmonton with 20,000 spots--and never one during Christmas I suspect--and several others over 13,000 spaces).

But whatever the case, there are a lot of cars there on any given day.  The ride in never seems all that crowded as the numerous attendants direct you to the particular row they are filling at the time.  This helps alleviate congestion as the trams line-up and wait there to pick up the newest arrivals.  The attendants all have communicators and some are even on Segways to coordinate the process.

Most interesting are the parking spots.  They are at an angle and designed for two vehicles with no line to separate them.  The attendants point you to the next available one, filling first the front of the spot and then starting again once the row is filled with the back of the spot.  This clears up two significant choke points.  First, even though the people in the car next to you are getting out at almost the same time, the angle of the parking means that doors on the adjacent vehicles can be opened simultaneously and you don't have to do the courtesy dance (You, No you, No you, thunk).  And because the car behind does not come until the next parking wave, the trunk of the car is clear to get out any needed items.

Further easing things, spotters later in the day find rows towards the front with open spaces and direct late arrivers to them.  We have found that when you get to Epcot at 6 in the evening you end up closer to the gate than at ten in the morning.

The more I've watched, something as simple as a parking lot isn't that simple when it handles 30,000 or more people everyday.  But, experience and strategy make the Disney parking lots run smoother than the much smaller one at Fayette Mall.

Lines

Yesterday, we made our way to one of the Disney Water Parks.  As we stood waiting to get on the longest and fastest water slide in the world (or so the sign claimed), I started thinking.  Where else in life do people pay money to stand in line for 75 minutes for an experience that is over in 5 seconds.

Why do the normal laws of economics, time and expectations somehow suspend themselves in an amusement park?  In any other context at the end of such an experience there would be complaining and anger or might even include violence and chaos in the line.  And yet, when we got off the ride, the expression from almost everyone was "Wow, I can't wait to do that again."

It made me think, "What goes on in a Disney line that makes it work while if the line at Kroger was longer than an hour it would be a mob scene?"

First, like a shopping mall, there are no clocks in evidence.  This creates a sense of timelessness.  And in the water park, where most people don't have watches or cell phones, the effect is enhanced.  You wait for a while--not for 39 minutes and 23 seconds.

Then at the beginning of each ride there is a sign with an estimated wait time.  This creates an expectation from the beginning that the experience will not be an immediate one.  In addition, there seems to be some subtle psychology going on with the posted time.  Almost always the wait is shorter than what is posted.  This creates a sense that when a 60 minute line takes only 40 minutes that you have gained 20 minutes, not wasted 40.

The lines at Disney also are not bare metal cattle gates.  The lines have elaborate theming that create an expectation about the experience to come.  There are any number of interesting things to look at.  And Disney now is experimenting with adding interactive games in the line itself.  We experienced one version of this when the Mr. Potato Head animatronic in Toy Story Midway Mania called out to Robby, "Hey, you, sir, in the white shirt, I bet I can guess your weight."  (The groan inducing response--20-30 minutes).  Efforts are made to make sure you are comfortable while waiting with shade and misters outside and air conditioning indoors.

No lines run straight and you are not able to see the load area until you are within minutes of the ride.  This makes it very difficult to know either how many people are in front of you or how close your are to the end.  In addition, some rides have pre-shows where you come to the end of the line at a large theater where there is a presentation.  The show ends, the doors open, and viola, another line.

But most important in all of this is the agreement to an invisible social contract.  Everyone behaves in orderly fashion that puts the enjoyment of the group over the individual.  In a sense, Diseny enforces what could be deemed a benign totalitarianism that the masses willingly agree to abide with.  This does not of course mean that people still do not attempt to gain personal advantage or to game the system, but in general there is the trust that the overlords will maintain a system that is ultimately fair to everyone.

The happiest place on earth requires everyone to put their needs and wants in the context of the entire society.  I'm not sure what I think about that.

Why Mickey?

Many people don't realize it, but Mickey Mouse was not Walt Disney's first cartoon character.

Walt began his animation career in Kansas City doing commercial cartoons to be shown between reels in the movie theaters.  As his ability and resources grew, he began filming his own shorts starring a real girl named Alice who stepped into the cartoon world.

But Walt's first big cartoon star was a character called Oswald, the lucky rabbit.  When Walt went to New York to ask for more money to dedicate to each of the popular Oswald cartoons, he was in for a rude shock.  The distributor informed Walt that the cost of the cartoons was too high.  He had the rights to the character and a secret agreement with many of Walt's employees.  They were going to quit the Disney studio and continue to work on the cartoons for the distributor.  Walt no longer had control of his own creation.

It was a real blow to Walt, as he felt both the loss of his creation and the betrayal of men he thought were his friends.  He prepared to go home.  Whether he believed it or not, he sent an upbeat telegram back to his brother explaining the situation, but promising that he had ideas to make everything o.k.

He didn't, but on the train ride home, he suddenly came up with the idea of a mouse character to replace the rabbit.  In fact, the mouse looked a lot like Oswald, he just had shorter ears and a longer tail.  He named his creation Mortimer.  And the rest is history.

Well not exactly, the story has it that when he showed the cartoon to his wife Lilly and told her its name, she was unimpressed.  She didn't care for Mortimer at all.  Why don't you call him Mickey was her suggestion.

And so when later asked to describe his success, Walt was known to say, "It all started with a mouse."  Or maybe the rabbit that got away.

Childhood Interupted

The lives of Walt Disney and J.R.R. Tolkien share some interesting similarities.

Both men's lives took place during the same historical period.  Each served in France during the First World War.    Both were loving parents whose most important ideas came as they tried to entertain their own children.

Tolkien and Disney share one other very interesting similarity.  In fact, both men pointed to it as one of their primary sources of inspiration.

When Tolkien's father died in South Africa, his mother and brother lived for a while in Sarehole.  This English town (now incorporated into Birmingham) had a river mill and expansive countryside.  Tolkien and his brother Hillary spent many idyllic days roaming the countryside.  It was looking back on this period in his life that inspired Middle Earth.

Walt Disney also had a memorable childhood period.  As a young boy, his family moved to Marceline, Missouri.  It was there that he enjoyed the freedom of the countryside and the enchantment of farm animals.  He had a favorite tree on the property which he referred to as the "Wishing Tree."  He delighted in going there to look at the sky and pass the hours.  He would take other members of the family there and regale them with tales of his imagination.

Unfortunately for both men, their Edenic experiences ended abruptly.  Tolkien's Mother's family was angered by her conversion to Catholicism and stopped supporting her, and she was forced to move into the city.  Disney's Father decided that there were better things to be had in Kansas City, and Walt was immediately forced as a young boy to take on the rigors of a paper route to help support the family in their new urban home.

This shared interruption of childhood seems to have forced their imaginations to go into a sort of hibernation.  When their circumstances got better in adulthood and they were stimulated by their children, their sleeping creativity blossomed with the power of maturity.

The rest is a fearless storytelling by adult men that captures the power of a child's imagination.

It was a hard experience for Tolkien and Disney to lose their Eden, but the rest of the world is richer for it.

Hyper-reality

When you walk down Main Street USA in the Magic Kingdom, the buildings tower over you.  But, not as much as you think.  While they appear to have multiple floors, the buildings actually are cleverly designed using an optical trick.  The facades of the upper floors diminish in size the higher they are.  If you could view them at eye level, you would find that the windows on the third floor are dramatically smaller than those on ground level.

It is called forced perspective, and it is a technique used by movie makers for years.  Many of the shots in the Lord of the Rings films used this technique to make the actors who played the hobbit characters appear smaller than the other members of the cast.

Disney wants to immerse you in its fictive reality by convincing you that it is real.  For this reason, theming is extensive and elaborate.  Small details that are noticed only subconsciously in passing are added to create depth of scene.

Umberto Eco, the Italian academic and author, went to Southern California and wrote a thoughtful essay about the experience.  In Hyper-reality, he suggest some helpful categories when considering objects and their environment.

He begins with the real.  Consider Michelangelo's painting on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.  It is the actual historic work in its original setting.

If someone were to paint a poor copy of the master's work, and put it on display it would obviously be a fake.

But if one were to build a replica of the chapel and paint the ceiling to be an exact likeness it would be a real-fake.  The identifiers between what was real and what was copy would diminish to a point that they are indeterminate.

If on the other hand, someone took the ceiling and placed it in a museum of modern art it would be an example of the fake-real.

Eco suggested that Disney used its techniques of immersion and art to create a reality that never existed anywhere, but appears to all intents and purposes as real.  This is what he calls hyper-reality.  It happens when the fake is so real that it appears more real than the real ever was.

Eco calls it hyper-reality.  Disney calls it magic.

Pointing The Way

How do you tell if someone has worked at Walt Disney World?

It's not the sunny disposition and general excitement about life.

It's not the knowledge of the difference between  Chip and Dale.  (Do you know the difference?  It has to do with the color of their nose.)

It's not the wistful look at a ball game when an anthropomorphic mascot character charges out onto the field.

If you want  to know if someone has worked at Walt Disney World ask them for directions.

I'm serious.  Ask them to point you somewhere.  Then you will see it--the Disney World staple--the two finger point.  From the first day they become cast members, it is drilled into employees that they are never to point with the index finger, but always with the index and middle finger combined.

I'd like to say that this has its root in the fact that Mickey only has three fingers and a thumb on each hand.  The two finger point is the equivalent of  one Mickey finger.

The real reason is actually just as interesting.  Walt Disney felt that pointing with one finger was too aggressive and could be interpreted negatively in some cultures.  The one finger point is a very closed and authoritative hand motion.

The two finger point is a more open and generous gesture.  It is this small attention to details that helps everyone feel at home while on the Disney property.

I just thought I'd point it out.

Disney Church?

Yesterday, along with some 3000 of my closest friends, I went to First Baptist Church, Orlando.  It has been described by some as the church that Disney built.  When Walt Disney decided to locate his complex outside of Orlando, First Baptist was a typical First Church in a sleepy Florida town.

After Disney located, First relocated.  The church moved from its downtown location to a spot half-way between Orlando and the Disney property.  Under the leadership of Jim Henry, the church began to swell as the years passed.  As Disney raised the bar of expectation for public presentation and Disney people raised the level of technical proficiency, First Orlando was on the way to mega-church status.

Today, First Orlando has a campus that would be the envy of a corporation.  It even has its own school.  The worship center is built to look traditional while at the same time having a place for every modern technology and seating for 5,000 and three Jumbotrons and several monitors.  The sanctuary is so big that there are "A" and "B" welcome centers.  The congregation even has its own traffic light into the entrance of the church.  The church claims a membership of 14,000.

It was an interesting Sunday.

Without question, the service was technically flawless.  From the swirling spots that highlighted the praise singers, the plexi-glass drum hut and the perfect transitions the service showed all the earmarks of a good Disney production.

Although it was not advertised as such, the service may have been directed to seekers as the entire service was very basic in content.  The sermon from Acts 28 was well presented, even if it lacked much depth.  It was a traditional three point one:  1.  God is with you.  2.  Your chains are opportunities.  3.  God's message is unstoppable.  It was a fascinating presentation that included four interviews with church members on the stage, a multi-media map, and the minister being handed chains which he looped around his wrists for part of the sermon.

The people seemed to enjoy the worship if the amount of clapping was any indication.  It seemed to be generally directed towards self-congratulatory statements that highlighted something good that the congregation had done.  And, quite frankly, the congregation seems to be doing a lot of good.  Although the service and message seemed primarily to be about an internalized religious experience, the church seems to be active in a number of innovative ways in the community.  At the Welcome Centers, they even have three computer kiosks where people can search what is going on and how to get involved.

Maybe its just me and my smaller church experiences, but there were a few memorable moments.  When I noticed the three uniformed officers carrying tasers in the foyer for instance.  Or the 7 memorial slabs in the foyer that listed all the members of the military who had died in foreign wars.  The American flag made with the names of the fatalities of 9/11 seemed a bit out of place to me.  The fact that there is no worship order, because I assume that with the screens one is not needed.  The worship team who were all young, thin and good looking--Susan Boyle would not have fit in, and I'm not sure Kate Campbell would have either.

Like I said, it was interesting.  

Water, Water Everywhere

When Walt Disney first laid his eyes upon the spot in Florida that would eventually become Walt Disney World, he looked over a swamp.  While the location was ideal, the logistical problems of transforming the land were immense.

In order to create the vast clear lake that sits in front of the Magic Kingdom, the existing water and debris had to be removed.  A great deal of earth was removed from the spot to where the theme park now sits.  This allowed the construction of the ground level corridors which now crisscross below the park being covered by the excess dirt. The public area of the theme park sits upon what is essentially the second floor of the facility.

One of the major challenges that Disney imagineers faced with the property was what to do with all of the water.  Disney people are happy to tell you, that if you count all of the boats that Disney owns on the property, they are one of the largest navies in the world.  All of the water adds a beautiful and restful backdrop to the property.  Many of the Disney hotels are built on lakefronts.

In order to build on the site, the company dug over 50 miles of canals.  These forced water to go into certain channels and protected the other areas from flooding.  For an idea of how massive this project was, consider that the canals would stretch from Georgetown to Louisville if laid end to end.

The first canal was dug and ran in a straight and true fashion.  This was obviously the least expensive way.  Plans had been made to build the water control system in an efficient grid system.

When Walt came in from California to evaluate the process, the construction manager proudly showed off the crews work.  He was surprised by the reaction of his boss.  Rather than being pleased with the already completed work and plans, he demanded that all work stop until new plans could be devised.

His concern?  Rivers don't run straight.  The canal looked, quite frankly, too much like a canal.  Walt wanted everything that was done to look natural.  Every other water course would be constructed with curves even though that increased the cost and made the system less efficient.

Walt Disney wanted to be sure that his unreality was as realistic as possible.

The Gospel of Optimism

Two days ago, I had the wonderful opportunity to take Mark Pinsky out to lunch.  We had a fascinating discussion about how the presence of the Disney Company has effected the church scene in Orlando.

Mark is the former religion writer for the Orlando Sentinel.  He describes himself as a liberal Jew, but because of his position, he is an expert on the evangelical presence here.  Mark has written several books, including A Jew Among The Evangelicals and The Gospel According To The Simpsons.

Mark came to Orlando at just the right time for a religion reporter.  He arrived just as the Southern Baptist Convention endorsed a boycott of the Disney Company.  At the same time, Jim Henry (whose daughter Kate will be singing at Faith on Sunday) was pastor of First Baptist Church in Orlando.  In his congregation was a large number of Disney employees.  He was caught between a rock and a hard place as he was president of the SBC that was encouraging the boycott and pastor to the people the boycott was designed to target.

The boycott essentially was designed to highlight what the fundamentalists believed were Disney attacks on family values.  This seemed an odd criticism to make of a company that had for generations been family focused.  In the end, it also proved that despite their advocacy and ability to make the papers, the fundamentalist movement was unable to convince the people in the pew to follow the strident dictates of the pulpit.  Disney continued to make money and fill hotel rooms and quietly, some years later, the boycott organizers claimed victory (with no evidence of success) and dropped it.  Apparently Johnny and Suzie's desire to go to Disney World trumped the Reverend's warnings that going would just further the cultural collapse.

Mark is an extremely gracious man and was generous with his time and thoughts.  A few years ago, he wrote The Gospel According To Disney in which he examined all of the Disney cartoon films for their religious content.  His conclusion was that Disney promoted a religious view that could best be described as optimism.  The religious references are never explicit, but essentially point to a theology of hard work with some sort of magical intervention and everything will work out in the end.

Assuming his analysis was accurate, I asked him what was the spill-over of this Disney gospel into the church.  He suggested that the first noticeable effect was the rise in expectation of performance values in Orlando churches.  This necessitated larger congregations that could provide the facilities necessary to compete with the bar raised by Disney entertainment in the parks.

Most interestingly, he suggested that this emphasis on entertainment values had led to a surface treatment of religion that lacked real depth.  The presenters were not angry, yelling types but friendly and approachable.  Their sermons were designed not to alarm their suburban audiences but to make them comfortable.  He did not say it, but implied that the hard gospel was replaced by Disney's gospel of optimism.  God's Kingdom was replaced by the Magic Kingdom.

Dreams Versus Dollars

Almost everyone is familiar with the name Walt Disney.  Many fewer have heard of his brother Roy.  But it could be argued that without Roy, Walt would not be known at all.

Walt was the creative imagination behind the studios that bear his name.  It was his artistic vision that guided its work during his lifetime.  He also on more than one occasion nearly spent the entire company into bankruptcy pursuing his ideas.

Walt was a dreamer who was always thinking about the next big thing he was going to accomplish.  He never really spent much time thinking about the cost of his visions only their execution.  He was in the business of thinking big.

This is of course the recipe for greatness and at the same time for destruction.  While Walt was able to execute groundbreaking advances in film and amusement parks, he more than once mortgaged everything he had to produce them.

Thankfully, Walt had his faithful older brother Roy who got him out of any number of scrapes during his life.  Roy was the numbers man in the operation.  He continually urged caution and prudence.  As the chief financial officer of the company, he was the one who had to balance the ledgers and figure out how, and if, Walt's dreams could be afforded.

Without Roy, Walt would have been a huckster riding from town to town promising more than he could deliver.  With Roy, Walt's visions became reality.

There is a lesson in this partnership.  There is a balance between dreams and dollars.  The Disney brothers didn't let Walt's dreams die because of financial constraints nor did they let Walt's dreams destroy the company that they had built.

Roy and Walt's relationship was strained at times as Walt would push beyond Roy's comfort.  In fact, Roy had a peace pipe on the wall of his office that Walt presented him after one protracted feud.  They were brothers and that kept them together and helped them accomplish more than anyone would have expected from the two small town boys who came to Hollywood with little in their pockets other than their own personal strengths.  The dreamer and the doer.  Together they changed everything.

Man and Machines

When J.R.R. Tolkien thought about the modern world, he rejected much of it.  He believed that the machinery that was rapidly becoming a part of modern life extracted vengeance upon those who created it.  The pursuit of progress in his view led to the destruction of the environment and the twisting of the human soul.  His answer was a return to pastoral living.

Walt Disney on the other hand embraced the machine.  He became fully immersed in the modernist view of the world.  Machines were useful tools to serve, educate and inform humanity.  Utopia was just around the corner--or as the Carousel of Progress puts it:  A Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow.  Machines and scientific innovation would solve all of the world's challenges, and we would live together in harmonious abundance.

Throughout his work, Disney was a gadget guy.  He was constantly tinkering with technology as the answer to his challenges.  He was the first to add sound to a cartoon.  His cartoons were some of the first to feature stereophonic presentation.  Color was added before others even considered it.  Disney invented the multi-plane camera which allowed depth of the background and the ability to focus in on a dynamic landscape.

His innovations went beyond his studio work.  He was a pioneer in the idea of animatronics.  He used a number of experimental technologies in his theme parks.  He first saw a monorail in Europe and believed that it would be the transportation option of the future.  He invented the people mover, a device of continuous cars on a belt that would move people in efficiently in large cities.

He designed the Magic Kingdom in Florida with under the surface utility corridors so that trash, goods and workers could be moved without disturbing the enjoyment of the park.  Walt sold Florida on the idea that he was going to create a new model for an American city that would solve the urban problem on the land that ultimately became Disney World.  He even gave it a name, the Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow.  This new city was never really built, but remains in vestiges in EPCOT.

Walt Disney was distrustful of government which he saw as wasteful, slow and bloated.  He had confidence in business.  He believed that corporations would through science and new technologies solve all of the problems of modern life.

It was an optimism that seems naive today in the wake of BP and any other of a number of corporate disasters and malfeasance.  But Walt Disney really believed in better living through science.  He was the quintessential modern man.

Uncle Walt

Even though Walt Disney died nine months after I was born, I feel like I know him.  I suspect that most people my age or older feel the same.

On Sunday evenings, back in the dark ages when we had only four TV channels (and walked uphill in 3 feet of snow to school each way, dag nab it!), the Wonderful World of Disney entered America's homes.  Each weeks episode included Uncle Walt sitting at a desk and introducing the program for the week.  He was a calm gentle presence.

Television allowed his voice and image to continue to be the voice of the program even 10 years after his death.  I really thought that he was a still living person as a child as I sat in the couch on the living room (now it seems a little disconcerting--almost zombie-ish now that I think about it).

So I knew Walt Disney as the humorous, kind man with the mustache who introduced the cartoons or Davy Crocket.  A man we gladly invited into our home each week because he shared our values--he was one of the family.  That was precisely the way that Walt and the company he founded wanted it.  He was to be known as the quintessential American success story.  A man whose dreams, decency and hard work brought him to the pinnacle of success.

The reality is a little murkier.  The man on the TV was in reality a much more complicated person with a much more complicated life story.

You may not have known that Walt Disney was a chain smoker who carefully avoided being photographed with a cigarette.  Not the right image, he felt.  He died of lung cancer, an illness he carefully concealed.

Early in his career, Walt Disney went into bankruptcy in Kansas City and left behind a trail of debts that he never paid back.  The company which controls Walt's image tells the story of him getting on the train to California to follow his dreams.  They don't mention that he hocked his camera and rather than paying off his creditors bought a first class ticket and a brand new suit for the journey.

The company histories rarely remember the perfectionist who refused to allow any of the artists to have billing higher than his.  Or that he would wait until the artists left for the day and go through their trash to evaluate their work.

His near nervous breakdown at one point in his life is also rarely discussed or his polo injury that left him in persistent pain for most of his life.

These pieces of back story in no way diminish his accomplishments.  Instead it reminds me that we always need to be aware of who is telling the story, because that voice may have an agenda or an image that they want to highlight and will leave us with only part of what we ought to know.

No Church On Main Street

J.R.R. Tolkien was a deeply religious man, but for artistic reasons, chose not to explicitly include Christian religious references in his work.  He imagined his world as existing in a pre-Christian time when there was no real organized religion even though everyone shared a common faith in the creator God.

The absence of religion in Walt Disney’s stories and parks is for a different reason.  Throughout his adult life, Walt was never known to go to church.  He did once write (or had written for him) a piece for Guideposts discussing his Christian commitment, but as to evidence of it in his life, there seems to have been little.

This absence of religious practice in his life was certainly not the intention of his parents.  His Father was an active member of a fundamentalist congregation.  Walt’s name actually comes from the first name of the minister of the congregation where Walt’s parents attended.

His Father was a hard and unrelenting man.  He treated his children in such a way that two of Walt’s older brother’s hopped on trains and ran away from home before they were 16 and never came back.  It is probably no surprise that given the harsh and unforgiving nature of his Father’s religion and parenting that Walt rebelled against it.  His brother Roy, on the other hand, chose to become active in a main-line congregation rather than continuing in the very conservative tradition in which he had been raised.

While Walt in many ways reflected the values of his Midwestern upbringing, emphasizing hard work and perseverance as the keys to success, he was not a perfect mirror.  He embraced the protestant work-ethic, but replaced the protestant reliance on God with hope in magic and pixie dust.

Mark Pinsky has made the keen observation that Main Street USA is the only Main Street in America that lacks a church.  Disney did not do this as Tolkien did to emphasize a pre-Christian world.  Nor did he chose this omission because the ideal city presented in the book of Revelation has no church or temple because everyone is always at worship.

Disney, when asked about the absent church on Main Street, responded that there was no church there because if he put in a Lutheran Church the Methodists would be mad.  A Baptist Church would infuriate the Catholics.  Any church would be a negative for people who weren’t Christians.

There is no church on Main Street for economic not religious reasons.  While Walt wasn’t hesitant to push his idealized Marceline on the public, he believed that the church was just too divisive to include.  After all people from all religions have money, and he was keen to get it from them all.

So lining Main Street there are wall to wall store fronts and no church.  Disney didn’t have a strong public faith, but he certainly had faith in commerce.

St. Louis?

Main Street USA is a fixture in all of the Disney flagship parks.  It functions as the entry gateway to the amusement park and leads to the central castle.  The street as constructed in Disneyland and to a lesser degree in the Magic Kingdom in Orlando are reproductions of the idealized main street of Marceline, Missouri Walt Disney’s boyhood home.

Walt recreated the romanticized street of his childhood in California and Florida.  Last summer, I visited the original while driving through Missouri and experienced the town's still evident charms.

Main Street USA in Disneyland is built in a former orange grove.  Main Street USA at Disneyworld sits in a swamp.  Main Street Marceline is in the middle of a heartland agriculture district--with no evidences of oranges or aligators.  Walt seems to have had a habit of building his Eden in places where it was a foreign idea.

Of course, if not for the actions of one man, I might not be sitting in a hotel preparing to go to Orlando tomorrow.  Instead, I'd be headed to St. Louis.

Walt Disney was concerned that Disneyland was primarily being used by residents of California.  He was convinced that he needed to have an East Coast gate to reach a broader audience.

So he began an aggressive search for a spot to place his next Main Street.  Niagara Falls was considered, but rejected because it would be too cold in the winter.  Other sites were considered and for a variety of reasons rejected.

Walt finally became convinced that St. Louis would make the perfect location for his East Coast park.  He met with civic leaders and everything was in the process of being prepared.  What better place for Main Street USA than the very state that inspired it?

At the final meeting with civic leaders, everyone was positive and encouraging.  Only one man seemed concerned.  In the course of the meeting, he asked Walt twice if he planned to sell alcohol at the park.  When Walt replied that he intended to have a family friendly park and would not sell alcohol, the man told Walt that without alcohol the park would never make any money.

The meeting ended, and Walt was supposed to sign the papers formalizing the deal the next morning.  So angered by the man who questioned his plans, Walt ordered his plane readied, cancelled the signing and left to scout locations in New Orleans and Florida.

The rest of course is history.  Walt once again imposed his childhood home upon a place with no relation to it.  Marceline, Missouri remained a sleepy town.  St. Louis went without a Disney park.  And a sleepy town in central Florida has exploded into the number one tourist destination in the world.

Depending on your perspective, one man is to praise or blame for the way everything turned out.  His name--August Busch, Jr.  The CEO of Busch Brewing.  He couldn’t imagine Disney World without a cold Budweiser.

Home And Gone Again

The trip home from England was uneventful (except for the annoyance of a delayed flight home from Chicago because the First Officer never showed up--when the pilot announced the reason for the delay a voice behind me shouted out, "I can drive a stick shift would that help?").  We landed in Lexington about 10:30 last night.

Rick Covington was kind enough to pick us up even with our late arrival, and as each minute ticked by I was more and more ready just to get in my house and crawl under the covers for some good old-fashioned hibernation.  There was real joy as we pulled into the driveway.

This was replaced just a moment or two after we unloaded our bags, and the code was typed into the garage door keypad.  Instead of the satisfying rumble of the motor kicking to life and the raising door slowly welcoming us in, it was only the silence of the stars in the sky deafening our hopes.

The battery on the door key pad was dead (much the way we were on our feet after the 20 hours of preceding travel).  Rick made a quick trip somewhere and in his return almost made the figure of an angel in our eyes (yes, that Rick Covington--what can I say we were really desperate).

Today has been an uneventful day, primarily one of recovery.  I did make it to Georgetown Baptist this morning in hopes of hearing Alan, but you guessed it--he was on vacation.  If you are keeping score--that is five church visits since my sabbatical started and five pastors on vacation.  I was, however, able to enjoy both causing friends at GBC to do a double take (wondering what in the world I was doing there and by myself since Janet and the boys had slept in to recover) and a good sermon by my friend Josh Speight the missions coordinator for the Kentucky Baptist Fellowship.

I have been greeted with a lot of the trivial home sorts of tasks--rooting through mail, paying bills, jumping a car, fixing a computer--a far cry from the glamour of Paris and London.  Yet, all in all, pleasant in their familiarity.

But I can't get past thinking about that door--you see we have a history.  Last year, when we got back from our vacation to the West, I found that we had locked our interior garage door and left the key on the ring inside the house.  We called the locksmith who couldn't come, but suggested a credit card which one of the more criminally inclined members of my family (I'll leave it to you to decide who) used to defeat the lock.  It was not a fun feeling standing there knowing that the next alternative was breaking a window.

To make certain that it didn't happen again this year, before I left for England, I went to Lowe's and had them make five copies of my house key (that's right 5--I was not going to get locked out again!).  We put several copies in the garage to ensure that when we got home we wouldn't be stuck on the outside looking in.

Yet there we were.  A year later looking wistfully at the same house and sitting on stacks of luggage--desperately, almost home.  There is probably no worse feeling than a locked two inch thick door keeping you from getting where you most want to be.  And no better feeling than when it is slowly pushed open and you shuffle in with your burdens soon to be cast off with the journey behind you.

We leave again tomorrow--I'm taking one of my copied keys in my wallet--that will leave four, just in case!

How Old Is Old?

Some days, I wake up feeling pretty old.

Some of you who read this, may laugh at that.  A few will chuckle, "Of course you feel old--you are old."  Others will knowingly laugh, "Just wait, when you're my age then you'll feel old!"

Old is a matter of where you are standing.

I've gotten myself in trouble more than once referring to someone as old, only to remember that my conversation partner was the same age as the person to whom I was referring.  I thought I had gotten around the problem when I began never to refer to anyone as old, but only older.  What harm is there in pointing out that someone is of an older vintage than I?  However, the people who are the same age as the ones I point towards, still seem to take offense, even though I have changed from a declarative to a comparative.

In two years Faith Baptist Church will be 50 years old.  That is middle age for a person, and certainly for a church it is an age that marks a significant point.  The fact is that most new church starts fail.  For a church to last 50 years means it has become for now a relatively permanent fixture in the life of the community.  It is on the way to becoming old.

But Georgetown Baptist Church is celebrating 200 years of ministry in the Georgetown community this year.  Now that is old!

Or is it?

My whole definition of old has taken a real turn on this trip.  Nothing in America is old.  Period.  (Except maybe my minivan!)

When we got off the subway in London yesterday, we could see London Tower.  It was built in the early 11th century.  That makes it almost 1000 years old (5 times older than GBC).

But as I was looking around, I also saw a portion of a wall with a statue of a man in Roman military garb in front of it.  I discovered that the wall was built in 196 AD.  196!  That makes the wall as close to the time of Jesus as I am to the Civil War.

An almost 2000 year wall makes even a 200 year old church seem young and spritely.

Despite that, I just can't shake the fact that I woke up feeling old this morning.

An Experience

Yesterday, I met the man who invented the flush toilet, Thomas Crapper.  I'll get back to that.

We did the first day of the tourist sweep in London and saw all of the usual sights.  While we enjoyed the place, it doesn't impress me quite the way that Paris did.  London is just a big city like big cities all over the world.  It has interesting sights, choking traffic and a hodge podge of buildings that seems like one architect trying to out do the others.  Probably due to the war and buildings destroyed by bombings, each block can have a variety of styles and vintages.

Paris on the other hand has a more unified theme.  When you are there, you realize that you are someplace foreign, not simply someplace big.  The city has character not merely millions of people.

We did step off the beaten path (sort of) when we went to the London Bridge experience.  Was it ever an experience!  I am not sure how to describe the place.  We were greeted in the line by a man in character with a shredded white shirt which had fake blood all over and a contact lens that distorted one of his eyes.

We entered into one of the piers of the London Bridge and began walking around with our group through historical reconstructions of periods in London history.  There were actors portraying different characters to discuss each scene.  They played their roles with a sly wink to the audience and humor as they explained what we were surrounded by.  There wasn't really  a story per se, it was more like individual historical vignettes all at least loosely connected to the history of the London bridge.

A Viking greeted us first as we helped to pull down  the first London bridge to get at the Danes.  Then it was to the torture chamber where a executioner explained the process of being drawn and quartered (not a process for the squeamish).  On to a chapel where a half-crazed woman described the three fires that shaped London and fleeing behind her through the scene of burning streets.

Then we met the imminent Crapper.  What he had to do with the bridge, I have no idea.  I suppose it may have been because the sewage his invention created was going to be dumped in the river.  Finally we met the ghost of an American, a Mr. Mcullough, who bought the bridge and took it apart, shipped it, and rebuilt it Arizona (strange but true).

And then . . . And then .  .  . they led us through The Tombs of London--which was basically a haunted house.

A little (and the emphasis on little) history and a whole lot of experience.  It was light fun, but it reminded me that entertainment for the sake of entertainment can sometimes be so powerful that it overcomes any sort of story that it is trying to tell.

Temple of Consumption

Yesterday, we made our obligatory pilgrimage to Harrod's of London.

It is a grand and impressive building.  A far cry from the architecture of a shopping mall, it is a block of building that would look at home on Embassy Row.  With domes and spires and beautiful stone, it looks more like a temple than a department store.

Equally impressive are the interiors.  Richly appointed and bursting with goods of all sorts, it is five floors of shopping in a single building.  Want clothes, no problem.  Want groceries, got them.  Want carpet, a bank, a crock pot, Legos--there here.  Planning to travel, come to our travel agent.  The store has eight restaurants contained within if you happen to get hungry.  We stopped at a a place called The Chocolate Bar for a snack which had an entire menu of desserts and drinks made with, you guessed it, chocolate (it was packed).

They even have things you couldn't have imagined you needed before you arrived.  On display was a golf cart modeled after a Mini Cooper.  The irony--if my pound to dollar conversion was right--with its digital TV and optional hard-top and other accessories it actually costs more than the real car.  Then there was the sea-doo like device (you ride it like a motorcycle on the water).  You often see these on lakes and rivers in the United States. But this one was different, it was absurdly small and could achieve 50 miles per hour.  The cost?  Try $125,000.  That might sound steep, but don't forget that it includes a personal lesson on how to use it.

In the center of the store there is an escalator column covered in an Egyptian motif that runs to all of the floors.  On the ground floor, I came across a crowd.  As I looked, I noticed what appeared to be an altar.  And there staring back at me permanently ensconced photographs of Princes Di and Dodi Fayad.

As I stood there, it occurred to me that Harrod's really is a temple.  A temple to conspicuous consumption and to celebrity.  The numb faces of the thousands entering to make their offerings at the shrine that promises all the world has to offer.

I was glad to get out of there--but I did have a little green bag in my hand by the time I made it back to the street.