Two of the highlights of our weekend were seeing Napoleon Dynamite with Luke and Annika, and then during the worship service the worship band, led by Jay Baehr, was outstanding. And the band, whom I’ve named Jay Baehr and the Bo-dagitts, just got together. Jay Baehr, a North Park grad, played guitar and sang his heart out; his wife Betsy (a former student of mine) played piano. (A bit of a reminder of Paul and Linda McCartney — Paul was a Beatle.) My son, Lukas, played electric guitar and a math teacher named Scott played bass. A youngster was the other vocalist and then an excellent drummer — and I don’t know these last two blokes names. They were very good, too.

Of course, Jay Baehr and the Bo-dagitts got some sound going and it livened us all up some, and then everyone started clapping and, truth be told, I’ve got no rhythm whatsover. So, when just about everyone was into it, I got to where my clapping was off and I felt like a “decroded piece of crud” (to quote Napoleon). My decroded state didn’t affect how much I enjoyed it.
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