Anthrocide

Report on my Bay Area sports teams (sorry, MIZZOU, I’ll get back to you in the fall):

San Jose Sharks Playoffs – They improved on last year’s NHL playoff fiasco by beating Colorado and advancing to the second round. When they play up to their capabilities they can be quite good… It’s been commented-on ad nauseum, but no one would have believed that they could have accomplished this while going all six games with a grand total of one goal being scored by their top line. Heatley can be excused because he was injured in an early game, missed one entirely and was obviously only about 60% for the remainder. Hopefully he can recover before the next round. Thornton actually gave a good effort in other aspects of the game; scoring is not his strong suit anyway, but assists are. So for him to have only three points in six games is definitely eyebrow-raising. Then there’s Marleau. Yes, he did get the lone goal for that threesome, but, of the three, he has played the poorest—and without the excuse of an injury. He both misunderstands and at the same time defies a basic law of physics: A solid object cannot pass through another solid object. When he has the puck and spots a teammate on the other side of the ice, he passes the puck toward his teammate despite there being three sets of opponents’ legs, skates, and sticks directly in the path of the puck. Apparently thinking the puck will somehow magically dematerialize, slide through these obstacles, then rematerialize near his teammate, he repeatedly throws the puck directly to the opponents. This, naturally, leads to innumerable odd-man rushes for the opposition. However, perhaps he believes in this solid-passing-through-solid notion because of what pucks do to his stick. Fully half his attempts to guide, pass, or shoot the puck sees the puck remain right where it is, as if it passes right through his stick. Patrick, do us all a favor and see if you can try playing in this universe with its laws of physics rather than that alternate one you’ve been occupying up to now in the playoffs. Please?… Last season I decided that Joe Pavelski was my favorite player. This season—and certainly these playoffs—have cemented that notion… And Coach McLellan, thanks for having the good sense to keep Brad Staubitz on the healthy scratch list. What is purportedly gained by his “enforcer” role is more than lost in his poor judgment regarding when to be a goon and his exceptionally lacking hockey skills. Both could result in disaster against playoff-quality opponents.

San Francisco 49ers Draft – Other than a questionable trade-up two positions to get a player almost certain to still be there (and other high-quality alternatives if he wasn’t), this was a good draft. It has been pointed-out that these are all Singletary-type tough, physical players, though some are questionable in terms of character. It will be awesome if Coach Singletary can instill his personal focus, intensity, and Christian-based behavioral ethics into this group and enable them to excel. This is a case where I would love to witness a successful program, not just because I’m a 49er fan, but as proof that a man of purpose and Christian integrity can permeate his entire team with those same qualities. Though during his coaching tenure Singletary is neither shy nor overtly outspoken about his faith publicly, what a great testimony it would be to show that dedication to Christ can translate to dedication in all one’s endeavors. More than that, to show that such a philosophy of life can turn a whole team into both winners and men of integrity. Good luck, Coach. Here’s hoping that the 49ers are the (positive) talk of the NFL this coming season.

San Francisco Giants – In the past few years my interest in baseball has waned, partly because of all the ridiculous drug scandals, among the most notorious of which involves the Giants’ last hitting star, Barry Bonds. The other reason is that, since his departure, the Giants have been frustratingly inept and made-up primarily of ancient castoffs and retreads. They now have had an infusion of youth and have a dynamite young pitching staff including Tim Lincecum, back-to-back Cy Young award winner. They still don’t have quite enough offense to be a truly great team but they have managed to revive my interest a bit. Taking two of three from the Cardinals including keeping Albert Pujols contained was fairly impressive. As the old bromide goes, good pitching beats good hitting. But as the 2-0 loss in the third game of the series shows, even with good pitching you can’t win games if you can’t manage to score. Still, as long as they don’t take a major nosedive they should keep things interesting enough to bridge the long gap between the end of the NHL playoffs and the start of football.

Richard Yoder was a devout Christian man. For some 45 years Richard Yoder was a gospel preacher. He was never a big-name preacher, even in the small community of churches where he was known. I doubt he ever ministered in a church of more than 50 people. Though he offered literally thousands of invitations in his ministerial life he never had Billy-Graham-like responses where an entire football field is filled with converts. In fact, in the 3+ years I regularly attended the church where he preached so tirelessly I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of conversions that resulted. But there was one that was of particular significance to me: my own.

You see, back in the spring of 1968 I became smitten, as they used to say, by a gorgeous little blue-eyed blond named Rebecca (Becki). She was two years behind me in high school and she was also a preacher’s daughter. She was Richard Yoder’s daughter. Now, sometimes preachers’ kids become notoriously rebellious, but not so with Becki. She was a devoted daughter and a devoted Christian. Me? I was an atheist. As we started “dating” (as much as her dad would allow) Becki never demanded that I convert to Christ or even attend church. However, I did attend because that’s where she was so often.

I wasn’t there to listen, I was there to pass notes and spend time with her. But eventually things started to happen. One was that I began to observe the love within her family and to realize that it was the influence of their–especially the parents’–belief in Christ that made it what every family should be. I also realized that part of what made me love Becki was Jesus in her. I also began to actually pay attention to those sermons her dad kept preaching. After some months had passed I began to realize that what this man was saying made sense. In fact, it made sense of the world, of life itself. Eventually I realized that the gospel of Jesus was true. It had to be; it was the only logical, coherent, rational explanation for what life is all about.

On Sunday, January 5, 1969, Richard Yoder called me over to his study and asked me if I was ready to act upon what I’d been hearing. That evening he baptized me into Christ. On July 7, 1973 he became my father-in-law as I married that wonderful little gal that I’m thrilled to say remains my wife after 36+ years. Richard, along with Becki’s mom, Mary, continued to be wonderful Christian influences, wonderful in-laws, and wonderful grandparents to our sons Paul and Scott.

Richard Yoder was not famous or even a gifted speaker. But he was dearly loved by a great number of people and exuded Jesus in all of his life. While he may not have legions of converts to show for his faithful service, his influence for Christ was deep and far-reaching nonetheless.

And among those he did help bring into the Kingdom of God, there’s me. Richard Yoder was more than my father-in-law, Richard Yoder was my father in the faith. For that I am literally eternally grateful. He passed the baton of salvation to me. My prayer is that I will successfully pass it on as well.

On December 18, 2009, at 90 years of age Richard Yoder went to be with the Lord he had served so faithfully. Thanks, Dad. I shudder to think where I might be had it not been for you.

- Your loving son in the faith, Don.

The Sutter High School class of 1969–my class–had its 40th year reunion on Saturday, November 21. Sutter is a very small town with a small high school and our graduating class was fewer than 70 people. Thirty-some attended the reunion and that included some graduates’ spouses.

As reunions go, this one was excellent. Sometimes reunions leave the attendees feeling pretty bummed–those who in school had been jerks are still jerks, those who had been snobs are still stuck-up, and those who had been dorks are still dorky. But not so this class, this reunion. Everyone was warm, personable, unpretentious, and friendly.

We spent a lot of time talking about grown kids, grandkids, and plans for retirement. It is clear that this group that took their diplomas amid handshakes, flashbulbs, and starry-eyed aspirations has had its day in the sun. The baton has long since been passed to the our children’s generation.

None of us found a cure for cancer, flew to Mars, or brought about world peace. But the attendees of the class of 1969’s 40-year reunion turned out to be good people. And, all things considered, that in itself is a pretty impressive accomplishment.

So, here’s to my class. May God richly bless you all. I count it a privilege and a source of pride to be a member of the Sutter Union High School class of ‘69.

First, a follow-up to the America’s Got Talent story.

So, Eeyore won. My pick, Barbara Padilla was runner-up. Interestingly, both had problems with their final performances. Barbara made a tactical error by reprising an operatic solo she had previously done. She needed to show that she could use her thrilling voice to sing something in English for us “just plain folks.” Even an old show tune like “Some Enchanted Evening” would have been a much better idea. Kevin Skinner’s performance was vocally poor; he was flat and off-key in parts. Seriously, now that the story of the sniveling chicken farmer has run its course, only the most hard-core and tin-eared CW fans would pay Las Vegas prices to sit through an hour-plus of listening to him. Better invest that $1 million wisely, Eeyore…

ON THE SPORTS FRONT, time for a quick recap of what’s happening with my teams:

So, America’s Got Talent huh? (Although, from the title one assumes it doesn’t have much in the way of proper grammatical skills or it would be America Has Talent.) Anyway, for those who, like me, have no better sense than to waste their time watching this drivel, here is my take on the finalists from worst to first:

Grandma Lee – Granted my sense of humor doesn’t mesh with a lot of people’s; for example, I don’t find David Letterman the least bit funny. And, granted, I have become convinced that performers who resort to off-color humor do so because they don’t have enough truly funny material. They rely on the shock value of what they say to get audience reaction. Hence, I do not find Grandma Lee funny. She aims her risqué humor at the judges who obligingly pound their desk with hilarity and proclaim her comedic timing “impeccable.” It isn’t; it’s slow and halting and if she were 30 years younger she’d have been dumped long ago. As it is she gets additional shock-value mileage by being 75 and saying what someone that age isn’t expected to. But would her lame old-lady sex jokes, sans judges, sustain a full-length Vegas show? No way, and I wouldn’t go for free. Sorry, Granny, it’s a “no” vote from me.

Kevin Skinner – The human Eeyore. He’s a mediocre singer and at first the aw-shucks human interest angle was somewhat touching. But he has laid that “Ah’m jest a humble hick (sniff, sniff)” stuff on so thick for so long I no longer buy it. An evil part of me sees him offstage after a performance with a martini in one hand and a cell phone in the other saying in plain broadcast English, “Vinny? This is Kev. Hmm? Actually, I thought it went well tonight and, hey, that onion-juice-on-the-guitar-strap idea of yours was pure genius. Gets me teared-up every time. Anyway, did you open that Swiss account for me like I asked you? Super! Need a place to put that cool mil, right? And hey, Vin, have my lawyer tell the producers here I want a penthouse for the Vegas gig…” Back to the chickens, Kevin.

Drew Stevyns – An OK raspy-voiced singer who is thoroughly uninspiring. Since the audience doesn’t vote people off but instead votes for their favorite, I’d say he has zero chance to win unless all the female voters decide his boyish looks merit their votes.

Recycled Percussion – An unusual group that beats on buckets, car parts, and other junk as musical percussion. Although they’re interesting to watch, here’s my problem with their performances: They have one actual musician, a guitarist, but I hear a lot of other background music and sound. So how much of what we hear are they actually producing? Or are they just a flamboyant Milli Vanilli?

The Texas Tenors – Since I am not a fan of country music, trios in cowboy hats do not attract me, although “God Bless the USA” is as country as they’ve gotten so far. When they pull off good harmony (which isn’t always) it’s quite good. They could probably carry a Vegas show (or more likely a Branson show), but I doubt I’d pay to go, even if I was already there.

Lawrence Beaman – Good singer with a deep, mellow voice. However, he has limited range and needs to pick his songs carefully. Cries too much and too easily but he’s the best male singer of the bunch.

Hairo Torres – This guy is amazing for the contortions he can put his quadruple-jointed body through all while performing acrobatic break dancing. Him I’d pay to see.

The Fab Five – Talented group of five twenty-something to thirty-something sisters who can dance up a storm. I’m not real big on watching dance acts but they’re amazingly precise, they’re attractive but modest, and they seem to be having a ball while on stage. The biggest concern with them is that their dancing is so frenetic that after a 2-minute audition performance they’re completely gassed. That being the case, how on earth will they handle a full 60 or 90-minute Vegas show?

The Voices of Glory – Two brothers and a sister (16, 11, and 9 I think) who blend excellently. The little girl has a dynamite voice and is fearless on stage. Their background story is quite touching; you can’t help but root for them.

Barbara Padilla – Operatic singer who is the whole package. Great human interest story of a cancer-surviving wife and mom who sort of came from nowhere. She’s a lovely lady who comes across as incredibly gentle, kind, and caring (okay, okay, she also cries too much and too easily but I’m cutting her some slack). But all that aside, even though I’m no opera aficionado her performances give me goose bumps. I would definitely pay to see her perform and would sincerely hope for a chance to meet her and shake her hand afterwards. Even though an operatic singer won last year, she is by far the most talented of the competition and gets my vote to win it all.

In the Year that is my life it’s September.
Early September.
It’s still summer, you know.
Most people think of it as autumn.
But summer doesn’t end until September is far spent.

Just ignore that silly old tree out past the back fence.
Its leaves turn yellow way too soon—long before the others.
It’s still summer.

It has been an eventful summer.
Since it started I’ve gone from Dad to Father-in-law to Grandpa.
Admittedly, my love and I cannot stoop and pick flowers like we did;
Not like we did when we began our journey together back in the early spring.
That silly old tree already has leaves on the ground under it.
But, really, it’s still summer.

I can’t believe the stores are already displaying Halloween stuff.
How foolish.
Halloween means the advent of cold weather.
Why think about the cold when it’s still summer?
For another week or two.

I don’t look forward to cold weather,
Or achy joints, or short, dark days.
Coats and blankets can’t warm you like summer does.
I don’t look forward to the cold.
And spring will never come again.

But no need to dwell on that now.
It’s still summer, after all.
Even if that silly tree thinks it’s autumn.
It’s not. It’s still summer,
After all.

And yet…
When the Year ends, so will winter.
And I will bask in the glow of a glorious Day,
Warm and bright in the Light of eternal Love.
My Friend will take me by the hand
And I would wonder why I worried about summer’s end,
Except that I probably won’t remember these seasons at all.

I will be too engrossed in His glory to think about something as mundane
As summer, after all.
— D. L. Hamilton

The position of head coach (”manager” in baseball) for a sports team is a peculiar one. No matter how good the coach, the team must have talented players but a coach can make a significant difference. It has been said that a great manager in baseball will maybe win a half-dozen games for a team over a 162 game schedule and a bad one lose about that many. However, I think a truly incompetent manager can have a greater negative impact than that because the aura of losing becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Nevertheless, the impact of the head guy in baseball is not as significant as it may be in the other sports, specifically football where the right or wrong approach to the game and/or playbook can make a team of just above-average players either champions or underachieving losers. In general, though, for the four major sports, coaches are generally responsible for:

A. Team Chemistry. The coach must create team cohesiveness that enables a group of individuals to work together as a unit. This is a bit less significant in baseball since there is frequently only one player from the team on offense involved at one time. But in sports like basketball and hockey, team chemistry is essential.

B. Work and Discipline. The coach must establish when and how much the team will practice, make sure the players maintain conditioning and their focus, and handle problems with and among the players. He establishes how stringent or lax the rules are and whether or not star players get special treatment. He may also be a teacher, although this is less true in the Pro’s.

C. Philosophy. Will this team focus primarily on offense or defense? Will it look for the quick strike, run-and-gun, or use a patient, opportunistic approach. How much are the players expected to decide on their own and how much will the coach control from the bench?

D. Motivation. Players need someone in charge who can build a fire under them, help them recharge their batteries over a long season, and calm them down when things are too tense. While locker-room leadership from players is important, this falls primarily to the coach.

E. Strategy. In football and basketball these are the plays the team has in its playbook on offense and the defensive coverages that they plan to use. In hockey there is a basic method of play the coach establishes and there may be nuances based on the opponent’s personnel and mode of play. In baseball it would involve how they plan to pitch to each opposing player, what each batter can expect from the opponent’s pitcher, and the positioning of fielders. In all cases it involves who starts and who gets how much playing time.

F. Tactics or “Game Management.” Finally, the coach determines what happens while the game unfolds. Substitutions, what play to call or pitch to throw, time management, and what adjustments to make to offset what the opposition is doing are all parts of game tactics.

Having established these, let me assess the coaches of my favorite teams. They are:

MLB - SF Giants, Bruce Bochy
NCAA Basketball - MIZZOU Tigers, Mike Anderson
NCAA Football - MIZZOU Tigers, Gary Pinkel
NFL - SF 49ers, Mike Singletary
NHL - San Jose Sharks, Todd McLellan
And I just can’t generate much of a rooting interest in the NBA.

Below, these teams’ coaches are ranked in order of quality–in my view anyway.

1. Todd McLellan, Sharks, hockey

Team Chemistry - This team truly clicks on the ice. No off-ice issues either.

Work/Discipline - The Sharks win as much because of their hard work as their talent.

Philosophy - Todd’s system is both a proven winner (Detroit) and fits his personnel.

Motivation - They’re not up 100% of the time but rarely coast thru full games.

Strategy - Again, the game strategy works and so do his line combos.

Tactics - The Sharks do a good job of adjusting between periods.

Overall coaching grade: A. Could be A+ or A- depending on playoff outcome.

2. Mike Anderson, MU Tigers, basketball

Team Chemistry - A few off-court issues but minor compared to Quin Snyder. The team clicks.

Work/Discipline - Mike’s system only works if the players outwork the opponent. They do.

Philosophy - His defense-first pressure system is called “40 min. of hell.” It works.

Motivation - They beat KU because at halftime he laughed and told them to just calm down!

Strategy - After Snyder’s stand-around offense, Mike’s strategy is exciting.

Tactics - Mike doesn’t get out-coached during games; he pulls the right strings.

Overall coaching grade: B+. Could be A, A-, or B, B- depending on play in tourneys.

3. Gary Pinkel, MU Tigers, football

Team Chemistry - Gary fosters good chemistry. A few off-field issues but he handles them.

Work/Discipline - Good work habits overall. Defensive mental lapses were too common though.

Philosophy - Offense: Spread works very well. Defense: Glad Eberflus is gone!

Motivation - Good overall but nerves often seemed to be a problem in big games.

Strategy - Playbook is very good when not too cute. Blitzes too predictable & often failed.

Tactics - Improved greatly over the past few years; they even won some in the 2nd half.

Overall coaching grade: B-. 2009, a reloading year, will reveal much about his true grade.

4. Mike Singletary, SF 49ers, football

Team Chemistry - Greatly improved since Mike took over, but he needs to settle the QB issue.

Work/Discipline - Probably Mike’s strongest asset. It’s team-first or ride the pine.

Philosophy - “Smash-mouth” is cause for concern. I prefer scheme-derived success.

Motivation - Another of Mike’s main assets. Even players in his doghouse love him.

Strategy - I expect his defense will get the most from his players. Offense? We’ll see…

Tactics - The 49ers came back to win some, but the Arizona game-end fiasco was worrisome.

Overall coaching grade: C. But to be fair, he has yet to do it all HIS way for a season.

5. Bruce Bochy, SF Giants, baseball

Team Chemistry - Doesn’t seem to be any discontent; revolving door of players doesn’t help.

Work/Discipline - Having so many old players beside rookies keeps things in line.

Philosophy - Limited talent limits options, e.g. can’t play long ball w/o power hitters.

Motivation - Team generally appears a tad listless as if fated to finish near the bottom.

Strategy - Here again limited talent limits roster, batting order, and bullpen options.

Tactics - Bruce seems to do an OK job pulling the strings for what he has to work with.

Overall coaching grade: D. But he needs a team with more talent to assess him fairly.

I have taken the plunge and signed-up on Facebook. I read somewhere that the number of people had reached over 150 million although I don’t know how factual that number is. Based on the number of “Friends” I have accumulated in just over a week I could see how that is true, though. I’m up to 38 but I heard of one teenager who accumulated over 150 in one day!

Facebook can be a bit of a challenge, though. I’m a person who really wants to understand something thoroughly before I use it. I used to drive my sons crazy when they’d want me to play a video game with them. I’d start asking all kinds of “why” questions about what the point of the game was, why I would want to have Mario jump up and touch a coin, what each button was supposed to do and when I’d want to use it, etc., etc. Their response was always, “You don’t have to know all that, you just start playing it!’ Sorry, boys, not my style. I’m finding that there is a lot of stuff in Facebook but knowing how to get to it can be difficult. There are also features that you can only find if you click enough places from enough pages and such. I don’t see quite enough logic to why one thing is accessible from my Home page but something else I get to from Profile. Still, the basics are kinda fun and it’s amazing how closely it tends to suggest that idea about six degrees of separation between any two people on earth might be to the truth.

That said, I can see that Facebook could pull one in to spending a lot of time on it. I, on the other hand, am more of a once-a-day-if-that user at present. As internet accessibility via cell phone becomes more and more common, one of these days I may well be on it throughout the day if I ever switch out my little freebie flip-phone. Anyway, be seein’ you on FB…

Fourth of July weekend Rebecca and I celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary (actually July 7th). While, for our 25th we went on a cruise, as my son Scott put it, we have become totally Mid-Westernized: we went to Arkansas.

Eureka Springs, Arkansas to be exact. For the uninitiated it is home to The Great Passion Play which is a depiction of the final days of the life of Christ.

It is performed in an amphitheater whose “stage” covers close to two acres, part of which is on a hillside opposite the audience. There are several sections of the stage area and speakers have the dialog emanate from the area where the action is focused. Across the hillside is the tomb of Lazarus, Gethsemane, Golgotha, the mount of ascension, and the garden tomb. At the bottom of the hill—the main stage—there is a wide street running in front of the Praetorium, the Temple, the upper room, and various other building facades. This outdoor setting enables realism that an indoor stage could not pull off. For example, in a couple of time-of-Christ street scenes two boys run a flock of over a dozen sheep across the stage. Another time a Roman official rode in on a chariot. Very cool.

But more about the play later. The grounds on which the play is performed have several other items of interest. First, they provide a “holy land tour.” They have set up various venues showing what life would have been like in both Old and New Testament times including a full-size replica of the Tabernacle and various scenes from the life of Jesus. I sort of half expected it to be rather cheesy, but for the most part it was both realistic and informative. They had people in costume portraying various Bible characters who described the various points of interest. One oddity was that the very nice woman portraying Mary Magdalene had a pronounced Arkansas drawl, rendering “the time of the Passover” as “the tahm of the Pace-over.” Definitely worth seeing. Next, there is a “Bible Museum” for which I again had low expectations. To my surprise there were some incredible treasures in there: A genuine Gutenberg Bible (not the very first one, but one from his actual press), a copy of a King James Bible from the first printing of 150, copies of original Tyndale and Wycliffe Bibles, a fragment from the Dead Sea Scrolls, and on and on. I’m thinking, “In Arkansas?” I finally asked how historic documents worth hundreds of thousands of dollars ended up there. The tour guide said the people who established the Passion Play and all the rest were well-off, a lot of the books came from a specific donor, and a lot of the money came from none other than Henry Ford. We also toured their “Sacred Arts Center” on the grounds, a gallery of mostly contemporary Christian paintings and sculpture, many of which were quite fascinating.

When it came time for The Great Passion Play itself, 8:30 p.m., the sky was threatening. An hour into the play lightning began flashing all around. We were on metal baseball-stadium-style seats; not the best for a lightening storm. We had rain ponchos (still around from our last trip to NYR) but they wouldn’t be much use against lightning. At 10 p.m. the play had progressed to the crucifixion scene and, amid the lightning and thunder, it began to rain. Becki and I had spotted an apparatus with wires that looked like what they would use to do the ascension but could not imagine any actor being foolish enough to use it during such a storm. As “Jesus” spoke his final words, “It is finished,” from the cross, the downpour came in buckets. They had special lighting and sound effects to mark the moment of Jesus’ death but they were totally upstaged by the real thing happening then and there. At that moment the lights all came on and an announcer said the performance had been canceled and to please exit. Even covered by the ponchos we got soaked, literally wading to the car. We later got rain-checks for our tickets good for any time in the next two years. We are told the resurrection and ascension scenes we missed are quite spectacular so we definitely plan to go back, maybe this fall.

Our hotel room was very large and quite nice including a heart-shaped Jacuzzi tub. It had an attached German-Czech restaurant with excellent sauerbraten. The next day we poked around in some antique stores and wandered through the “historic downtown” which is where all the hippies from the 70’s ended-up. There are row upon row of little eclectic shops many of which sold tie-dyed items and incense. There were also a ton of bikers in town and many hotel marquees claimed “bikers welcome”; one even said “bikers only.” I wore my Mizzou cap the entire time, daring anyone to comment and ready with my comeback: “I have only two words for you… Cotton - Bowl.” The only person who took the bait was a woman in the Sacred Arts Center who, it turns out, was a closet Nebraska fan. No matter, I rubbed her nose in Mizzou’s shellacking of Big Red too! (Graciously, of course.) However, there were a couple of guys around town wearing Oklahoma Sooner caps whom I, ahem, sort of avoided.

On the way home we stopped at the historic home of Laura Ingalls Wilder, author of the Little House on the Prairie series books. I found it odd that throughout the homes, the museum, and the tour itself not one mention was made that the books had been made into a long-running TV series. Not a single picture of Melissa Gilbert, Michael Landon, nothing. The only reference at all was a DVD or two of some episodes in the souvenir store.

Not Cozumel or Jamaica perhaps but we enjoyed our little anniversary trip immensely. But then, with such a marvelous wife, how could I not?