Recently in Personal Category

We live in extraordinary times, if only we can lift our eyes from the press of the mundane long enough to see it. As I write, I have just finished reading a series of "tweets" broadcast by a friend in besieged Kabul, one of many friends in the international diplomatic/aid community working to ameliorate conditions in the most desperate places in the world.

Image via Wikipedia

Although I spent two years in the Peace Corps, I was always particularly impressed by my Peace Corps colleagues who went on to make careers of international service. Over the years, I have intermittently followed their careers as they narrowly cheated death from landmines in Zaire, tried to patch up Rwanda after the genocide, stimulated agricultural production in Mozambique, and tried to foster democracy in Afghanistan. And while I am amazed that Google can rescan the Haitian landscape within hours in order to give rescuers a detailed map of the devastation, I recognize that the key element in repairing the frayed edges of the international community is the people on the ground. With their unique blend of courage and compassion, they are my heroes.

John Milton, one of the most prodigious intellects of the seventeenth century, who played an active political part in one of England's greatest political upheavals, spent the latter part of his life confined to comparative inactivity by total blindness. Like Beethoven composing symphonies he could not hear, Milton dictated Paradise Lost from memory. In his sonnet On His Blindness, Milton wrote, "They also serve who only stand and wait." But among the vast majority of us who effectively "stand and wait," at least with respect to the world beyond our borders, let us have a moment's reflection for those who go forth and do, at their peril, and wish them a safe return.

A moment's reflection is enough to reveal that the Second Law of Thermodynamics is the universe's longest running cosmic joke. No matter what puny efforts we make, in the end everything falls apart. Some may take comfort in the hope that in the ultimate hereafter the Divine Joker who inflicted the Second Law on us will make everything all right. In the meantime, we are confronted not merely with our eventual disintegration but also with the daily mess.

I hate the daily mess. I have never been good at dealing with it, and my failure to master the petty organizational details of my life has been a lifelong irritant. I am particularly irritated because I am quite aware that the petty organizational details of life can be mastered, at least in the short term on a day to day basis. Going to college really brought this home, since I spent four years rooming with someone who was not only scientifically brilliant (and amused himself in his spare time by picking up Chinese) but also impeccably organized. Since his homework was generally done before dinner, he could relax in the evening reading science fiction before going to bed at 9 p.m., about the time I was sweeping the mess off my desk so I could start working.

Nevertheless, perpetual optimist that I am, I spent today picking up, throwing out, and cleaning off in the oft repeated hope that if I established a baseline of tidiness and organization, at little maintenance would preserve order in my life. But I do not really believe it. I am still good at the flash of concentrated effort. (Not as good as I once was, but as good once as I ever was, as Toby Keith put it.) But the daily nit-picky, habit forming, regimen following discipline that maintains daily order, while I long to embrace it with my programs, checklists, reminders, planners, schedules, and calendars is as elusive to me as the glimmering girl to Aengus. Ben Franklin, why has thou forsaken me?

Bringing anything back from a near death experience takes time, care, and patience, and this blog is no exception. I am slowly trying to work myself back into the habit of making entries at the same time that I am tweaking the code a little bit for faster loading, easier commenting, and more enjoyable reading. Patience is encouraged and suggestions are welcome. If the blog can survive work, children, and Facebook, it can survive anything.

I haven't made any decisions about how much effort I am going to put back into the a la menthe. As the more focused blog, it has always enjoyed more attention than this one, but it is more effort to keep up when one does not have actual physical contact with the country. My inclination for the moment is to let "the a la menthe" continue to lie fallow and bring any Moroccan subject matter back into A Web Undone 2. If anyone actually reads this, and if makes a difference to anyone, leave a comment, and I might reconsider.

I honor the memory of the 9/11 dead and grieve for the horrible deaths inflicted upon them. I was not at ground zero (although some of my relatives were very, very close), but I was a couple of blocks from the White House, as I am every work day, when the Pentagon was hit. I understand that having been hit once, we could be hit again.

However, I am also incensed that the tragedy of 9/11 has been misappropriated by the Republican propaganda machine to justify war abroad and repression at home. This kind of politicization of a tragedy dishonors the dead.

I also think that the horror and immediacy of 9/11 have created a loss of historical perspective. Tragic and horrific as 9/11 was, it was not Nagasaki or Stalingrad. I suggest that as we remember the tragedy of 9/11, we also remember other great and tragic historical September events. I suggest this not to diminish what happened on 9/11, but to caution against a self-absorption that distorts our place in history and the world.

Other Noteworthy September Events

1792 September Massacres initiate the Reign of Terror
1812 Battle of Borodino, 70,000 casualties, French capture Moscow
1862 Battle of Antietam, approximately 20,000 Americans die
1863 Battle of Chickamauga
1886 U.S. crushes the Chiricahua Apaches with the capture of Geronimo
1914 Battle of the Marne, first trenches dug
1915 British use gas at Loos, kill 60,000 of their own men
1916 Battle of the Somme continues, eventual casualties equal 1,000,000
1917 Passschendaele continues, eventual casualties equal 700,000
1939 Germany invades Poland, unleashing the Second World War
1940 Italy invades North Africa, beginning the North African campaign
1943 Allies invade Italy
1945 Surrender of Japan
1962 James Meredith enrolls at Ole Miss
1963 Birmingham Church Bombing

Sources
http://french-history.suite101.com/article.cfm/the_reign_of_terror_in_the_french_revolution
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Borodino
http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/cwphtml/tl1862.html
http://militaryhistory.about.com/od/civilwar/p/chickamauga.htm
http://www.historynet.com/geronimos-last-surrender.htm
http://www.pbs.org/greatwar/
http://history.searchbeat.com/worldwar.htm
http://faculty.smu.edu/dsimon/Change-Civ%20Rts.html

From Kenny Ellis . . .

. . . to Adam Sandler

The story goes that Senator Bob Kerrey once responded with this song when asked about losing a leg in Vietnam. It's also a favorite of my good friend, Peter Shaw. Peter might not say it, but it is a reminder not only of the waste of war, but of the often overlooked sacrifices of the ANZACS in the global conflicts of the last century.

Sixty years of Washington, D.C. music history came to an abrupt halt today as WGMS classical radio went off the air. At the time, WGMS continued to be the most successful classical station in the country. Announcer Chip Brienza had the final word.The station is donating its 15,000 disc music library to WETA 90.9 public radio, which is resuming a classical format after approximately a two-year hiatus, during which WETA essentially aped the news/talk format of its sister station, WAMU. With this welcome return to a classical format, I am hopeful that WETA will seize the opportunity to offer truly fresh and innovative classical broadcasting on the most powerful signal in the Washington area.

The Post's Paul Farhi has the story, and Mark Fisher has commentary.

Joyeux Noel.

Over my Thanksgiving holiday, I had a particle physicist attempt to explain string theory, the anthropic landscape, and the mathematical probability of God to me. I confess to something less than a complete understanding of a partial explanation, but this is what I gleaned: (1) The rate of expansion of our universe is slow enough so that it is not a universe that is likely to have occurred by chance, (2) it is possible that there is an unknown principle of physics that determines that our universe is the only universe that could exist mathematically, or (3) it is possible that our universe is one of an infinite number of parallel but unobservable universes, and that we only know about our universe because it gave rise to us, or (4) some kind of creator (not necessarily divine and not necessarily still in existence) created the particular quantum "vacuum state" that resulted in our universe when it expanded, and the rest is history. Remarkably, hypothesis (4) is apparently more probable to many scientists than hypothesis (3), although the expansion of the initial "vacuum state" that created our universe would most likely have obliterated any "creator" that existed in any kind of conventional physical form.

Caterina comments on tea.

Two weeks from now I hope to take my brother on a short cruise on the 56-foot yawl Mariner before his wedding. The boat was a labor of love for Robert and Elizabeth Teidemann, who parlayed their love of boats into a boat restoration and executive training business. Apparently, they spawned a mini industry in Narraganset Bay taking people on charter cruises of boats in the 12 meter racing sloops formerly used in the America's Cup.

Not much blogging in recent weeks for many reasons. I've been busy both at home and at work, but my free time has also been directed elsewhere. At some point, I mean to post at length about my readings on the Peloponnesian War. I've also picked up the first volume of Dewey Lambin's naval series: a little raw but generally rewarding. At present I am reading about Napoleon's invasion of Russia in 1812.

In addition, I have been playing with Linux. I finally abandoned Fedora and installed SUSE 10.1 instead, whch has worked remarkably well. I still have some work to do to get SAMBA working so that I can share files with my wif'e's Windows machine, and I spent some time configuring spam filters, but generally the configuration process has not been overly painful.

tabulas.com: Cat out of the bag

I heard Keith Ferrazzi speak at a conference this past weekend, and he made the point that relationships are like muscles; they grow stronger when you exercise them and atrophy when you do not.

Scientists Finding Out What Losing Sleep Does to a Body

According to the New York Times, too little sleep makes you fat. Guess I'm in trouble.

Serious Riders, Your Bicycle Seat May Affect Your Love Life - New York Times

The link between bicycle saddles and impotence first received public attention in 1997 when a Boston urologist, Dr. Irwin Goldstein, who had studied the problem, asserted that "there are only two kinds of male cyclists - those who are impotent and those who will be impotent."

Great. Just as I was congratulating myself on the health benefits of my new bicycle, the New York Times tells me too much bike riding leads to impotence. Then again, avoiding bicycle induced erectile dysfunction won't help me much if I keel over young from a heart attack.

What Your Office Says About You

In my ongoing quest for self improvement, my next resolution is to have a neat desk — the sign of an organized office and a good file system.

Why did riding a bike seem so much easier when I was a kid?

• Most useful kitchen implement: cast iron frying pan
• Second most useful kitchen implement: rice cooker
• Third most useful kitchen implement: chef's knife
• Most exciting new kitchen implement: burr coffee grinder
• Favorite ingredient: olive oil
• Most exotic kitchen implement: ibrik or couscousiere (a tie!)
• Most interesting recent cooking show: Alton Brown's Good Eats on making sushi

Bedtime battles: How to nip them in the bud

If you're like most parents, you're all too familiar with this scenario: You put your 2-year-old to bed at 8 at night, hugging and kissing him and wishing him sweet dreams. It's been a long day, but still the dinner dishes await, you have bills to pay, the dog needs to be walked and the cat fed, and you haven't had a spare moment to put your feet up. But instead of spending the rest of the evening catching up on your chores and clocking some precious time with your partner, you're in and out of your child's room, cajoling him to sleep. He finally nods off — about three hours after he first went to bed.

It is no wonder that SuperNanny is so popular.

Good cooking is its own reward. That's why Alton Brown is my new hero.

Talia Nicole was born at 11:15 a.m. yesterday at seven pounds nine ounces. Mother and daughter are both well.

I always feel sentimental when I hear Shostakovich's music for the Gadfly. During the summer of 1986, I lived with my grandmother in Washington. In the evenings, we would watch Mystery and Masterpiece Theatre together. Masterpiece Theatre was showing Reilly: Ace of Spies, and, appropriately in light of the series' Russian theme, the music in the credits was the Gadfly. Whenever I hear it, I think of my grandmother and our summer together.

Tax time, a two-year-old, and an office move — complete with Internet blackout, storage reorganization, and tempermental Local Area Network — have spelled all work and no blogging. Further comment will have to wait until after midnight on April 15.

The life and death of Pope John Paul II were remarkable. The calm and fortitude with which the Pontiff apparently met his end served as a model for all of us. However much I disagreed with his policies and his doctrine, however retrograde his Church, I admired his strength of character and personal integrity. Even at the end, he was blessed with dignity in death.

Dignity in death. It is sobering to think how few of us will actually receive a similar blessing. Death is unpredictable and often messy, and few of us are really prepared when it comes. The circus surrounding another recent death, that of Terri Schiavo, makes this point all too clearly. Schiavo's life was effectively over years ago, but she became a vehicle for right-wing Christian extremists and cynical politicians like Tom Delay and Bill Frist to stoop to new depths in exploiting the passions of their intolerant and obscurantist followers. While the passage of the Pope was an uplifting moment, the hypocrisy of the crowds who affected to adopt "Terri" as a close personal friend — though they never knew her — in order to push their own intolerant and life-denying agenda was truly nauseating.

Ron Keniston, a friend of our family, is suffering from Multiple Myeloma, a cancer of the blood plasma. His family is rallying to support him as he confronts this little discussed but very serious disease. Any help is much appreciated.

The trip from Washington to Richmond and back on Amtrak was the worst rail voyage I have experienced since I rode a third-class Moroccan coach from Rabat to Nador in December 1988. On the way to Richmond, a defective switch extended our trip from two hours to six. It would have been reasonable to expect the return trip to be faster, but our train was over an hour late and remained sidelined on the tracks for at least another hour. Upon arrival in Union Station, the wait for my checked baggage took another forty-five minutes.

In Richmond, there was no doubt that we were in the South. Coming and going, the cab drivers warned us about how strict law enforcement was. One of the major roads is named "Powhite Parkway." And the United States District Court is housed in a building that was formerly the treasury of the Confederate States of America.

The reflections from the new fallen snow and the low hanging clouds give the night a soft luminous beauty. It is easy to overlook such moments. How much we lose when we do.

Tree is up!

Today (yesterday) was a milestone: Rachel took her first steps. The best part was how ecstatic she was at finding she could walk.

Mostly blew leaves today, after a delicious tongue sandwich at the Parkway Deli. Rachel had a kosher hot dog and was ecstatic over the tropical fish in the wall. What really made Rachel's day, however, was a trip to the supermarket and the drug store. Besides cruising the aisles, she was particularly enamored of the balloons at the Giant and the Christmas decorations at the CVS.

My good friend Peter Shaw is trying to save the jetty in his native Opossum Bay, Tasmania. He has written the lyrics and music to a song about his boyhood memories of fishing on the jetty. Go to http://www.opossumbay.com/ now to cast your vote as part of the worldwide campaign to save the jetty!

Gayle just showed me my first lunar eclipse, which was quite spectacular since the moon was full and the eclipse was total. We watched a black arc pass over the moon, gradually obscuring the golden crescent at two o'clock. The moon was not completely blacked out; it was more as though someone had painted a gold disc with charcoal paint; you could still tell the disc was there, but it was covered with a thick, grey, grimy coating.

I am off to West Virginia for an EEOC hearing. Back in a few days.

Rachel learned to kiss this morning. She was eating her breakfast, and she just puckered up her lips and started to blow kisses for the first time.

Later in the morning, we went to swim class. Rachel does not much like floating on her back, but she kicks like a champ when I pull her along on her stomach.

When I blew bubbles in the water, she was not imitating me. Gayle told me after the class that the problem was that I needed to put Rachel's mouth in the water. (She was not going to do it herself. Duh!) I was hesitating because (obviously) Rachel does not like getting water in her mouth, but my hesitancy kept her from having a chance to imitate my bubble blowing. I guess I always have to bear in mind what she is and is not capable of: I tend to be surprised by both. Clearly, I have my assignment for next week.

We then went to a community fair sponsored by the Comcast cable network. Most of the booths were geared to children older than Rachel, so it was just as well that Rachel slept through it all. I was not sorry to be spared waiting in the block-long lines for a chance to have my picture taken with lifesize cartoon characters Sponge Bob and Dora the Explorer.

The fair was not a total loss, however, since we managed to grab a couple of chili dogs and some Ben & Jerry's ice cream.

Before hitting the grocery store later in the day, Rachel and I stopped at the Barnes and Noble, where I grabbed a latte and a chess book. Rachel was able to indulge in two of her favorite activities — riding the escalator and ogling the "bookmarks" sign. (The sign is shaped like a large wooden flag, and it never ceases to amuse.)

A memory I would like to carry into my old age is Rachel cradled asleep in my arms in the rocker, upturned face peeking over the "piggums" clutched in her arms.

J-A opines on the iconic significance of upside down Chinese characters. By inverting the "good luck" sign when it is on display, one evokes the Chinese character for "arrival." The visual pun on "luck" and "arrival" signifies an expectation that good luck will arrive. J-A sounds overdue.

Fitness Over Thinness for Hearts (washingtonpost.com)

Being fit appears to be far more important than being thin for decreasing the risk of heart disease, while the opposite seems to be the case for diabetes, according to two new studies in women.

So far I am making some progress on getting thinner: the concierge at our building actually mentioned today that I appeared to be losing weight. My next goal is to get enough sleep, so that I can get up in the morning and do a little bit of exercise before leaving for work. If I can build a little muscle mass, it will have the added bonus of elevating my metabolism and helping me lose weight.

I just got home after a late night filing, fueled by four Krispy Kreme donuts — almost a thousand calories in one fell swoop.

The Big Backslide (washingtonpost.com)

Call it diet fatigue, burnout or simply boredom.

Losing the weight is only half the battle. Keeping it off is the really hard part. In my personal battle, I'm down to 167.4 pounds.

In the latest chapter in the decline and fall of Washinton'sMetro subway system, the red line was running trains in both directions on a single track in order to perform maintenance on the line. The ride home was three times as long as usual, in hot, overcrowded subway car. Fortunately, I was in good company. I played over a chess game with Irving Chernev, and I let Ibn Batuta regale me with stories of his adventures in the courts of the 14th century Indian Moguls. (Some of which, such as accounts of Mongol conquest, dynastic murders, and wife burning, were admittedly rather grim.)

Weighed in at 174.8. Goal: 145 by Christmas. Program: . The basic premise seems to be that developing a little more muscle mass speeds up one's metabolism and burns more calories. Monitor: BalanceLog. Of course, I still haven't solved the problem of giving in to the temptation to finish off Gayle's quesadillas tonight at Baja Fresh, but at least if I am monitoring my intake maybe I will be a little more disciplined.

Rachel and I made a couple of trips to the bookstore today. She loves the bookstore, and kept asking what the elevator is called. (Remember, she's only 15 months old). She was equally fascinated by the conveyor at the cleaner's; it is always a plus for her when I am picking clothes up rather than just dropping them off.

I am making Norwegian whole wheat bread tonight, and it is going to keep me up. The dough is quite stiff, so it needs extra time to rise. I kneaded to Beethoven on WGMS, and my father did a nice tribute to Olympian Paul Hamm later in the evening.

If one were looking for inspiration to try to get into better shape, watching the men's gymnastics competition would not be a bad start. It's no wonder that the Greeks, with their admiration for the human form, were the orginators of gymnastics.

Congratulations to gold medal winner Paul Hamm, the comeback kid.

We took Rachel to the Montgomery County Agricultural Fair for the first time this past weekend. She liked the cows, loved the rabbits and chickens (particularly the roosters), was ambivalent about the pigs (but liked the piglets), and was frightened by the sheep. To which I can only say, Ba!

We hired our neighbor, who is a landscaping genius, to make over the beds around our house, and the result is remarkable. My small contribution (apart from a sizeable financial investment) was to festoon the yard with soaker hoses to water the new plants.

I also received a long awaited copy of the third volume in Michael Holroyd's biography of George Bernard Shaw. I couldn't resist skimming the pages, which only confirmed how thoroughly crazy Shaw became in his later years.

Blondie, Fairuz, Paul Simon, Saut El Atlas, Isabelle Boulay. Write on!

The New York Times > Travel > An Ancient Scottish Isle

I heard the name of the Outer Hebrides, a chain of islands 40 miles off the northwest coast of Scotland, as a siren's call. Once, as a young reader, I had briefly confused it with the Hesperides, a mythical garden at the edge of the world famous for its golden apples. Ever since, I had thought of those Scottish islands as magical places.

Next time I go to Scotland, I would like to answer the siren's call.

Portland was beautiful, a milder version of Maine. The ceremony was very simple and very beautiful, a quick exchange of vows in the evening on the banks of the Willamette River. After the ceremony, we devoured a spit roasted pig and watched fireworks.

Off to Portland, Oregon, for my cousin's wedding!

Rachel's new word: "boom!"

How horrible! Everything I touch becomes ludicrous and despicable! — It's like a curse.

Ibsen's anti-heroine on the difficulty of reconciling art and life (or death as in the case of Lovborg's suicide). A problem that preoccupied William Butler Yeats also.

I had bacon and eggs in bed this morning (with fresh hot coffee and a yogurt smoothie), acoompanied by my wife and daughter. Gayle gave me a baby carrier backpack, which we used to take Rachel around the Brookside Flower Gardens on the last perfect spring afternoon of the year. Before that, we joined my father for dim sum at Good Fortune, Wheaton's best Chinese restaurant. We window shopped at Border's for a little while before discovering that Bertucci's is actually a very family friendly restaurant. Rachel managed to eat a little bit of the macaroni and cheese that did not end up on the floor, while Gayle had a personal Neapolitan style pizza and I had steamed mussels. (The mussels, although billed as appetizer, were more than sufficient for an entree). The complimentary appetizer was herbed oliver oil with bread — delicious, although it does not really allow the flavor of the oil to come through. The desserts — chocolate mousse cake and tiramisu — were also very good, but so large that we decided that next time we would order only one and share. After we returned home and I rocked the baby to sleep, we spent a little time jiggering email accounts, and I plan to read for about a half hour before bed. It's a great feeling to be a father when I am blessed with such a wonderful wife and daughter.

Rachel, Gayle and I went to Wheaton Regional Park. It was a perfect sunny afternoon to go out with the family. Rachel enjoyed the ride on the park's miniature train, but was a bit skeptical about the carousel. The ice cream machine ripped us off to the tune of five dollars, and the park staff simply gave a collective shrug when we complained. After the park, Rachel and I hit Starbucks, Barnes and Noble (picked up a copy of ), the cleaners, CVS, and the grocery store. With limited success, I experimented with smoked turkey legs and fresh corn on the cob for dinner.

On n'oublie rien de rien,
On s'habitue, c'est tout.

-Jacques Brel

(You forget nothing about anything,
You just get used to it, that's all.)

Mad Romance was on the stereo this morning, beloved especially for the Dave Frishberg classic Blizzard of Lies.

I was so proud of my little girl yesterday, she sat up by herself for the first time.

A good friend decides to go solo. As the saying goes, if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere.

Our family always takes a moment on Memorial Day to remember my cousin Kenneth MacLeish, a member of the pioneering First Yale Unit (p. 6) who perished in combat over the skies of France during World War I. MacLeish's letters have been collected in . After the War, the Navy named a destroyer after Lt. MacLeish.

The other night as I drove home past midnight, all I could smell on the silent night air (all the cicadas had gone to rest) was the sweet smell of honeysuckle in bloom.

Everybody is talking about the incipient emergence of the cicadas, but my more immediate concern is that the plants have unleashed a massive cloud of pollen that has reduced us to sniveling sufferers in allergy hell.

Yahoo! News - Last Oldsmobile to Roll Off Assembly Line

I can't help feeling a little nostalgia at the news that Oldsmobile is no more. I spent a summer working on the Olds account as a production assistant for a video company, and I remember vividly delivering correspondence and tapes to the Olds plant in Lansing.

Rachel and I had our first Easter Egg hunt together this morning, after Gayle — I mean, the Easter Bunny — colored and hid a dozen beautiful eggs. Breakfast was, of course, eggs.

Rachel, Gayle, and I spent the morning at the Noyes Library's Born to Read program. One of the best features of the Montgomery County Library, the program is led by a librarian who sings, plays and reads stories with the babies and their parents. Not only do the children love it, particularly since they have an opportunity to see other babies, but the parents also get to commiserate a little bit and come away with new energy and ideas. Afterward, we stopped by Cafe Monet for a latte and a macaroon. Once again, our baby's champagne tastes were confirmed as she tucked into Gayle's smoked salmon.

I tried Queer Eye Chef Ted Allen's steak au poivre recipe tonight, with great success. I did not make the twice baked potato, however; my arteries have their limit. I opted instead for a simple baked potato and some sauteed snow peas. Dinner was two Samoas Girl Scout cookies; I just couldn't say no to the cookie table outside Giant Food.

I hope that when my daughter gets older, she will go to bed earlier!

HealtheTech offers tips for measuring portion sizes.

Choosing one's reading more carefully is a sign of getting old. When I was growing up, I simply seized on anything that looked interesting. As I grow older, I am not only unable to find as much time to read, but I am also acutely aware that I will never be able to read everything I would like to.

Halley Suitt on what women want.

Open shut them,
Open shut them,
Give a little clap.

Open, shut them,
Open, shut them,
Put them in your lap.

--Montgomery County Library

Wooden Beauties

One suspects that Frank Gilbreth (the original Cheaper by the Dozen) became the father of Motion Study because he realized he did not have much time. (He died young of a heart attack, leaving behind a dozen fatherless children.)

The truth is, God has not given any of us much time, so we had better make the most of it, and take advantage of whatever efficiencies we can.

Changes in Episcopal Church Spur Some to Go, Some to Join

"The decision this year by the Episcopal Church USA to ordain an openly gay bishop has set off a wave of church switching, according to dozens of interviews with clergy members and parishioners across the country."