Confessions of a Quirky Christian Artist

I read this book a couple of years ago about how almost every culture in the history of mankind has had a coming of age ceremony for their boys. The point of these ceremonies was, the author argues, to communicate clearly to the young man that their station in life is different from a certain point onward. To present them with a clear image of what it means to be a man. To imbue values and give them a vision for their future. In a society that lacks these ceremonies you have many young men who mostly lack these things, adrift in a narcissistic quest for finding them in all the wrong places. Well, needless to say, I don't want that for my sons, and being one who over thinks everything I set to work designing a ceremony of my own since my oldest son, Justin, was fast approaching 13, the standard age for this sort of thing. The book included several ideas for ceremonies of this type, and I mulled them over. One issue I have is that I do not fit many of the manly cliché's.

Am I the emotional victim of the American Dream? Last night I had two different dreams where I ended up crying hysterically. (In my dream, not in real life.) In my first dream I came upon my youngest son, Shane along the side of the road, he had a suitcase packed with various things including two of the same book: Professor Wormbog and the Search for the Ziparumpazoo. ( http://www.amazon.com/Professor-Wormbog-Search-Zipperump-Zoo/dp/157768687X ) Let me tell you a little bit about what this book means to me. I think it was my favorite book as a child. Somehow I ended up with my original 1970-something version in my book collection. Trouble with it was that someone had, at some point colored all over the last page and ripped half of the page off. The dénouement of this book really gives it a huge boost in charm, so having it ruined really sucked. A couple months ago I decided that if I ever wanted to read this book to my grandchildren I had better get myself a