"Fireproof"

If you haven't yet seen this extraordinary movie, DO. TODAY. From the folks who brought us Facing the Giants (a personal favorite).

"You Have Our Attention"

The first response to any crisis is prayer; urgent and honest prayer. Before we turn to money managers and governments, let’s turn to the
Maker of the Universe.


You Have Our Attention, Lord
A prayer by Max Lucado - October 2008

Our friends lost their house
The co-worker lost her job
The couple next door lost their retirement
It seems that everyone is losing their footing

This scares us. This bailout with billions.
These rumblings of depression.
These headlines: ominous, thunderous -
“Going Broke!” “Going Down!” “Going Under!” “What's Next?”

What is next?

We’re listening. And we’re admitting: You were right.

You told us this would happen.
You shot straight about loving stuff and worshipping money.
Greed will break your heart, You warned.
Money will love you and leave you.
Don’t put your hope in riches that are so uncertain.

You were right. Money is a fickle lover and we just got dumped.

We were wrong to spend what we didn’t have.
Wrong to neglect prayer and ignore the poor.
Wrong to think we ever earned a dime. We didn’t. You gave it. And now, tell us Father, are You taking it?

We’re listening. And we’re praying.
Could you make something good out of this mess?

Of course You can. You always have.
You led slaves out of slavery,
Built temples out of ruins,
Turned stormy waves into a glassy pond and water into sweet wine.
This disorder awaits your order. So do we.

Through Christ,
Amen

God will always give what is right to His people who cry to Him night and day, and He will not be slow to answer them. (Luke 18:7 NCV)

What Happened?

For more on Fannie & Freddie, check out:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exxVZTKq1vA]

Diana: In Pursuit of Love

And I thought All My Children was a soap opera. Indeed, Erica Kane has nothing on the late Princess of Wales and the latter’s tumultuous, tortured relationship with the British monarchy embodied by the stiff-upper-lip stoicism and self-absorbed myopia of the House of Windsor. This biography by acclaimed British “investigative writer” Andrew Morton, bears the unfortunate title of Diana: In Pursuit of Love (Michael O’Mara Books Limited, 2004). Depending upon which side of the warring Waleses one sympathizes with, a more accurate heading may have been : Diana: Queen of Hearts?, Diana: Goddess of the Hunt, Saint Diana: The People’s Princess, or Diana: Royal Nutcase.

Whatever else may be the case regarding the late Princess, Morton’s meticulously researched and painstakingly documented account of Diana’s last five years of life is even-handed and so thorough it could choke a whale. Morton tries hard not to take sides in the famous Windsor vs. Diana wars, but his affection for and admiration of the Princess is evident throughout the pages of this 302 page tome. It includes an Introduction, Prologue, and Epilogue. If the author’s name sounds familiar, it should. Hand-selected by Diana as her chosen biographer, Andrew Morton wrote the controversial Diana: Her True Story with Diana’s secret collaboration. Published in 1992, the book stood the public’s perception of both the Princess and the British monarchy on its ear.

In Diana: In Pursuit of Love, Morton offers a finely drawn portrait of an intensely complicated young woman who was both vilified and adored by those inside and outside the royal family. Morton writes as a reporter chronicling the ups and downs of the Princess’s up-and-down life. Chapters include Hard Road to Freedom, the Year of Living Dangerously, In Search of Love, a Princess to the World, Fakes, Forgeries and Secret Tapes, the Long Goodbye, The Crowning of the Queen of Hearts, The Final Odyssey, and the Curse of the Lost Princess. Writes Morton:

“She was a curious, and for many, an unsettling combination – a sophisticated woman of the world able to discuss death and dying with the Archbishop of Canterbury one minute, yet innocent of the ways of the world. A socially accomplished woman who could face a sophisticated cocktail party, she had never been to a pub on her own, and neither could she boil a pan of pasta.” (p. 73).

Numerous suggestions are made that Diana had a “sheltered upbringing” and was “very immature when she married,” but it turned out that she wasn’t as malleable as the Windsor thought. It appears that neither side in the “Warring Waleses” (as well as their supporters) understood nor knew what to do with the other, and both gave as good as they got. Even so, some characters in this royal rigmarole qualify as “stand-outs”: Paul Burrell, Diana’s former butler, who once worked for Prince Charles, comes off looking like a target for skunk spray. Prince Philip appears cold, distant, and demanding. Sarah Ferguson, the Duchess of York, is conniving, two-faced and ingratiating. Prince Charles is a narcissistic, pompous stuffed-shirt with all the warmth of an Inuit igloo. The Queen Mother is positively Antarctic. The only member of the monarchy who looks like another other than an exhibit at the wax museum is the Queen, who seemed determinedly above the fray, exhibiting a dignified detachment or “ostriching” – Diana’s term.

A frequent theme throughout this tome, which includes a Timeline of Diana’s life, a Bibliography of some thirty-five additional sources and eleven=page Index, is Diana as a “woman driven by her emotions” who trusted her “instincts” more than her intellect. Diana is described as “sharp-witted, strikingly attractive and capricious” with a “superficial sociable cheeriness beneath which lay a deep-seated sadness, usually well-hidden.”

Diana reportedly bridles at attempts by the royal family to paint her as mentally and/or emotionally unstable. However, if Pursuit is accurate, they had plenty of ammo: calling male and female friends twenty times a day (or more) “in need of comfort or advice,” clandestine meetings with married men such as art dealer Oliver Hoare and rugby star Will Carling, immersing herself in the lives of men whom she was attracted to – usually married - to the point of obsession, and other behaviors that many might consider neurotic or just plain kooky. Morton is lavish in his explanation of Diana’s behaviors during the Kensington Palace in-fighting, frequently citing “royal pressure” or something similar. Justly or otherwise, Diana may have earned some of her own headlines as a “home wrecker” or descriptions as a “bored, manipulative and selfish princess” (p. 123) who “needed constant reassurances that she was loved” (p. 124).

According to Pursuit, Diana was an outsider before, during and after she left the “constraining, invasive and alienating” life of Kensington Palace. In the royal kerfuffle surrounding the Waleses collapsed marriage – and there’s plenty of blame to go around – Morton cites matters that may have made the disintegrating ties insurmountable – Charles’ adultery and the tight-lipped, manipulative, cliquishness of his family and staff.

Morton includes a sizeable chunk of Diana’s personal vision, post-divorce, as she sought to carve out a role for herself independent of Buckingham Palace, including her frequent visits to the homeless and hospices. “These visits were part of her healing process” writes Morton. “In the world she lived in, everyone’s motives were suspect; everyone had an agenda, either to influence her judgments or further their own careers and lives. On the other hand, the people she was visiting lived in a different world – one which had no hold over her.” And “The Princess’s day-to-day life was filled with rumor and hearsay of plots and counterplots. Rarely a day went by at Kensington Palace without there being some excursion and alarm” (p. 79)

A perhaps unintentional view of Diana may emerge that some readers, particularly non-British, may garner: spoiled rich kid. The sheer volume of resources Diana availed herself of as she strove to “discover herself” would stagger the average person: voice coaches, speech writers, masseurs, hair dressers, security details, press secretaries, ladies-in-waiting, therapists, interior designers, personal trainers, and chauffeurs, and so on is immense and ever-changing. Not to mention the yacht cruises, vacations in Paris, worldwide travel and life in the lap of luxury that apparently come with a Windsorian title may leave some readers shaking their heads.

The book also chronicles the “whispering campaigns” against Diana launched “from St. James’ Palace” (Prince Charles’ camp). Endless descriptions of Diana as “incredibly lonely and depressed” or “a deeply troubled young lady” prior to her separation from Charles are just that – endless. (Some may deem them tedious.) Morton also narrates Diana’s difficult relationship with her grandmother, Lady Ruth Fermoy, “a close friend of and lady-in-waiting to Queen Elizabeth and the Queen Mother.” The latter frequently referred to Diana as “that silly creature” and other pejoratives. Morton also chronicles Diana’s rekindled relationships with her once-estranged stepmother, Raine Spencer, and the “tidal relationship” with her mother, Frances Shand Kidd.

Morton also covers Diana’s official separating from Prince Charles, and her struggles to free herself from the artificiality and “flummery” of the royal family and establish her own independence. The Windsor family’s frosty hostility and her attempts to care out a niche for herself as a “goodwill ambassador to the world” via her humanitarian and charitable work are presented at length. Diana’s devastating 1995 interview with Panorama is also included and reviewed. Meanwhile, from his royal temper tantrums to extravagant eccentricities, such as carrying “his own towels and lavatory paper to every house in which he stayed,” (p. 166), Charles is painted as, well, what stinks worse than a skunk?

The book winds down with a detailed review of the Princess’s successful and perhaps brilliant “re-invention” of herself as a “semi-detached member of the royal family.” This includes Diana’s famous anti-landmine campaign, various romantic involvements, hospital visits to the sick and dying, her last days with Dodi Fayed and the ill-fated high-speed drive through the streets of Paris on the night of August 31, 1997.

If you’re into soap operas or want an honest look at a troubled, gutsy and highly complicated woman whose life was tragically cut short, Diana: In Pursuit of Love is a great read. If you tire easily of quid pro quos, ad hominems, and cloak-and-dagger palace intrigue, you’ll need No-Doze for this one.

Perhaps overlong and tedious at times, Pursuit still succeeds in capturing the essence of a remarkable woman who remains a conundrum even to those closest to her, a Princess who fought for and ultimately changed the face of the British monarchy forever.


Diana: In Pursuit of Love
By Andrew Morton
Michael O’Mara Books Limited, 2004
ISBN: 1-84317-084-1

Walking With God

When’s the last time you heard God’s voice? What if it was just a second ago and you missed it? Wouldn’t it be amazing to hear God speaking directly to you; to know His counsel and encouragement for today? In Walking with God, John Eldredge, author of the bestsellers Wild at Heart and Captivating, shows you what it’s like to have “conversational intimacy” with the Father. Through personal reflections from his own spiritual life, Eldredge helps you recognize the sound of God’s voice. You can experience a spiritual life more rich and exhilarating than you’ve ever known.

John Eldredge's newest release, Walking With God, (Thomas Nelson, 2008) is one of th emost extraordinary books I've ever read. For more, click here:

http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=25a7575ebf6c3112dbfa

"A River Runs Through It"

“Long ago, when I was a young man, my father said to me, "Norman, you like to write stories." And I said "Yes, I do." Then he said, "Someday, when you're ready you might tell our family story. Only then will you understand what happened and why."

These are the poignant, mysterious lines opening Robert Redford’s A River Runs Through It (1992, PG). I missed this movie when it first came out and just saw it recently on video. It was a garage sale cast-off. My neighbor couldn’t sell it and gave it to me. I watched it, didn’t like it, and promptly consigned A River to dust bunny exile until another friend suggested I check out the soundtrack. I did. Something unexpected happened while listening to Mark Isham’s Academy-Award nominated score over and over again: I began to understand the movie’s unspoken undercurrents and emotion. Intrigued by its hauntingly beautiful music, I decided to give A River another go. I’m glad I did.

Set in the early 20th century in Missoula, Montana, this enigmatic story centers around brothers Norman (Craig Sheffer) and Paul (Brad Pitt) Maclean, two sons of a Scottish Presbyterian minister played with consummate skill by Tom Skerritt. The quintessential big brother, Norman is reserved, scholarly and sensitive. Younger sibling Paul(ie) is rebellious, loquacious, a hard drinker, gambler, and brawler. Neither is an entirely agreeable character, neither is entirely disagreeable. Like most real people, these brothers have unique strengths and weaknesses and try to help each other through life without fully understanding who the other person truly is.

While I still don’t “like” A River Runs Through It in the sense that it’s an upbeat, easy-to-watch, “feel good” fluff piece, the movie offers a rare blend of affection, distance, dimension, beauty, insight and heartbreak that’s both mysterious and captivating. At times the river seemingly embodies the Maclean family history: placid and serene on the surface, with occasional ripples and swells suggesting deep water or dangerous rapids ahead.

Based on a novella by author Norman Maclean, through whose eyes the story is told, the screenplay brings a literary quality to the screen that’s beautiful and moving. Combined with Academy-Award winning cinematography, solid performances all-around, and a story that’s alternately evocative, taciturn, lively, and tragic, A River Runs Through It represents a formidable cinematic achievement of depth, perception, and substance.

In the opening sequences, both young boys and father are united in their love for nature, the Big Blackfoot River and fly-fishing. Rev. Maclean teaches his boys the fine art of casting to a four-count rhythm cadenced by a metronome. Along the river they share experiences, casting techniques, stunning scenery, stories and life. Fishing scenes throughout the film create the sense that each man is at peace with himself and each other at the river while remaining distinctly separate and alone, as does the whole family in this elegant, elegiac story.

Much of the power of this story is gained from its subtlety, which is created and sustained by the narration and masterful direction of Robert Redford. Rather than resorting to spectacular special effects, mind-numbing dialogue or the gratuitous sex and violence so commonly employed by lesser storytellers with thinner plots, A River expects audiences to pick up on various cues and clues peppered throughout the screenplay with just enough seasoning to maintain full flavor. A refreshing change from the typical bash-you-over-the-head-with-its-point kind of movie, A River relies on nuance and subtlety to convey its message.

Some viewers – perhaps the less literary among us – have tagged this movie “boring.” So did I, until I gave it a second chance. The story moves at a graceful pace while requiring viewers to engage their minds and hearts to follow a film that ultimately offers more questions than answers.

Underlying themes may include a covert sibling rivalry between Norman and Paul. It breaks into the open just once – in a kitchen fist fight – but the undercurrents in tone, gesture, facial features and other non-verbals continue throughout the film. The movie obliquely hints at a dichotomy between Paulie “the tough guy” whose ready grin and lackadaisical, lassie-faire attitude belie an inner insecurity and perhaps some envy toward his “Rock of Gibraltar,” respectable older brother. Note Paulie’s reaction to Norman’s announcement regarding the offer of a professorship at a prestigious university in Chicago. Paulie doesn’t respond verbally, but his face and eyes speak volumes. This is coupled with Paulie’s subsequent decline of Norman’s invitation to join him and his future bride, Jessie, in leaving Montana to write for a Chicago newspaper.

“Come with us” Norman urges. “Oh, “I’ll never leave Montana, brother,” Paulie replies, chewing his lip before plunging back into the river with his rod. From the way the line is delivered and Norman’s reaction, you’re not sure if it’s a rebuke, a prophecy, or an eulogy. Whatever it is, the assertion underscores Paulie’s continuing struggle to find his own way in life outside of his big brother’s shadow. He then determinedly skims down the rapids to land an “unbelievable” fish. Narrates Redford, “At that moment I knew, surely and clearly, that I was witnessing perfection.”

“You are a fine fisherman!” proclaims Rev. Maclean as “mother’s pictures” are snapped by Norman.

“My brother stood before us, not on a bank of the Bigfoot River, but suspended above the earth, free from all its laws, like a work of art. And I knew, just as surely and clearly, that life is not a work of art, and that the moment could not last.”

*** SPOILER ALERT ***

Norman’s premonition proves true in the movie’s compelling closing scenes. The Missoula police inform Norman that his brother has been found dead, “beaten to death by the butt of a revolver.” We’re not told exactly how or why this happened, but gather that Paul’s murder is connected to his gambling debts and profligate lifestyle.

The impact on the family is quietly immense. Echoing themes throughout the movie, family members are both together and alone in their grief at the same time. Visibly shaken, his mother wordlessly retires upstairs. “Is there anything else you can tell me?” Rev. Maclean quietly asks.

“Nearly all of the bones in his hand were broken” replies Norman grimly, his stoic monotone belying a face etched with pain, shock, and traces of guilt.

Pause. His father, still in his bathrobe, stands and gently asks, “Which hand?”

“His right hand.”

As has occurred before in this under-stated film, the obvious is left unsaid: Paul’s right hand was his fly-fishing casting hand. We get the impression that Norman spends the rest of his days struggling with his brother’s untimely death as well as the bigger question: Who was this brother of mine?

“Maybe all I really knew about Paul is that he was a fine fisherman” Redford narrates. “`You know more than that’,” my father said. ‘He was beautiful.’ And that was the last time we ever spoke of my brother’s death.”

Only at the end does it become clear that Paul is meant to be a beautiful mystery. He’s an enigma to viewers because Norman can’t understand him any better than we can. Shortly before his own death, Rev. Maclean preaches a sermon that sums up the meaning of the film: "It is those we love and should know who elude us. But we can still love them. We can love completely, without complete understanding."

A River isn’t for everyone. I found the profanity and alcoholic consumption excessive and some minor scenes objectionable but not unreasonable given the subject and its characters. It’s not an “easy” movie to watch in the sense that you can allow your mind to wander and still pick up on the visual and non-verbal clues concealed within its gentle subtext. This movie takes some attentive digging. But for those who appreciate a lavishly photographed, skillfully sequenced, superbly acted and subtlely nuanced study of family life and relationships, A River Runs Through It is one of the finest.

“I am haunted by waters” is the final emotion-laden line of this remarkable movie. An old man who’s out-lived nearly everyone he loved, Norman once again stands solo in the river with his fly-fishing rod and his memories. “Alone in the half-light of the canyon with the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. … Eventually, all things merge into one. And a river runs through it. I am haunted by waters.” Bring Kleenex.

Above All

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Endurance: An Epic of Polar Adventure

Endurance: an Epic of Polar Adventure
By F.A. Worsley
W.W. Norton & Company, 1931
ISBN: 0-393-04684-2

They say truth is stranger than fiction. Endurance: An Epic of Polar Adventure is a sterling example. This riveting first-person narrative of the Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914 – 1916 recounts an extraordinary survival story replete with close calls, near misses, imminent disaster, and harrowing escapes. It’s a true story “of invincible endurance and irrepressible humor through hardship and danger” in the face of overwhelming odds.

Sir Ernest Shackleton set off to cross Antarctica, a journey of more than 2,000 miles. Although his ship Endurance was wrecked before he set foot on the “most desolate, storm-swept place on earth,” Shackleton and his men pulled off the greatest escape in the history of polar expedition. I’ve read and seen several accounts of this “bottom-of-the world” adventure, but none so detailed or compelling as the account of author Frank Arthur Worsley, commander of the doomed HMS Endurance.

Shackleton and his crew leave South Georgia, an island in the South Atlantic Ocean, in December 1914. While the ship makes good progress initially and pushes her way through thick pack ice off Antarctica, the wind shifts and closes the narrow channels or "leads", packing ice floes around the ship until she’s stuck like a fly in honey. During the long winter the pack ice carries the Endurance almost 600 miles north.

In July 1915 Shackleton conferences with Worsley and Frank Wild, Shackleton’s second in command. “The Boss” prophesies of the Endurance: “She’s pretty near her end.” He’s right. A “splendid little ship,” the plucky Endurance eventually succumbs to the enormous pressure of thousands of tons of ice and hoves onto her side. The crew salvages what supplies and stores they can just before she goes under, along with three life boats. The ship finally shatters and sinks, leaving twenty-eight members of the Expedition shelterless in the one of the harshest, most inhospitable regions imaginable.

At Shackleton’s direction, the crew initially camps on drifting ice floes dubbed “Ocean Camp” and “Patience Camp” and allows the current to carry them north to safety. During this time Worsley recounts encounters with sea leopards, Emperor penguins, and deprivation – “we had been living for some weeks principally on seals and penguins” and when these migrated away, the men were reduced to “fourteen ounces of food a day” - which resulted not only in physical weakness but also a significantly reduced ability to fight the intense cold. Worsley recalls the “sad day” when all of the dogs, save one team, “had to be destroyed, to save food.” Despite the omnipresent threat of exposure, frostbite, thirst, starvation and other adversities, Worsley dubs “the dreaded monotony” as the expedition’s worst enemy. They are saved from starvation by a flock of migrating Adelie penguins.

After five months of drifting and countless dangers on the floes, the crew sights the Antarctic Continent in March 1916. Shackleton has brought them safely through two thousand miles of pack ice (p. 65). Deciding upon a safer but longer route to the nearest island to avoid more deadly pack ice, Shackleton orders the men to prepare to sail for the forbidding Elephant Island.
Worsley narrates the crew’s reaction to Shackleton’s decision, “… for most of us, I think our former lives had receded to that dim and shadowy vagueness usually associated with drams… I was unable to picture an existence in which a desert of ice and snow, battles with sea leopards, the dread killer whales, and a regard for penguins as almost personal friends did not play a part.”
The floe cracks and the crew hurriedly launches the boats and embarks upon a hair-raising journey across the Southern Ocean to Elephant Island. On the stormy crossing the crews of the three boats – the Stancomb Wills, Dudley Docker and the James Caird – fight to stay together against blizzards, contrary currents, starvation, exhaustion and a voracious ocean that constantly threatens to swamp the small boats. Only the thinnest sliver of hope and a huge chunk of confidence in Sir Ernest keep his men going. Worsley describes the journey through “white hills of ice-clad sea, capricious currents, constant, unrelenting cold,” sleep deprivation, exhaustion and exposure in an orderly, almost calm narrative without a trace of self-pity, panic, or despair. The men had such faith in their leader that the thought of failure never took hold. (See pages 83, 84, 86 and 88.)

Separated from the two other boats, Worsley and his men endure a hellacious night in the Dudley Docker before finally sighting the forbidding the coast of Elephant Island. Worsley and his crew eventually land on “a low, rocky beach” and are overjoyed to find the two other boats at the same location, which Worsley describes as “a gigantic mass of rock, carrying on its back a vast sheet of ice.”

The full weight of responsibility for the safety and well-being of his men falls solely and wholly on Shackleton, whose self-sacrificing devotion to his men was legendary: “He was not only the leader of a great expedition but a true brother and shipmate to each one of us, thinking of us always before himself.” In the wild, inhospitable, inaccessible environment of Elephant Island, this responsibility would have crushed a lesser man than the indomitable Shackleton:

- “It was due solely to Shackleton’s care of the men in preparing … hot meals and drinks every four hours day and night, and his general watchfulness in everything concerning the men’s comfort, that no one died during the journey (to South Georgia).”

- “Shackleton’s popularity among those he led was due to the fact that he was not the sort of man who could do only big and spectacular things. When occasion demanded he would attend personally to the smallest details, and he had unending patience and persistence which he would apply to all matters concerning the well-being of his men.”

- “Shackleton had always insisted that the ultimate responsibility for anything that befell us was his and his only. … My view was that we were all grown men, going of our own free wills on this expedition, and that it was up to us to bear whatever was coming to us. Not so Shackleton. His view was that we had trusted him, that we had placed ourselves in his hands, and that should anything happen to any one of us, he was morally responsible. His attitude was almost patriarchal. True, this may have accounted in some measure for the men’s unquestioning devotion to him, and it always seemed to me that they bore toward him the love of sons for a singularly noble father…”


In the chapter entitled On Elephant Island, Worsley describes Shackleton’s extraordinary leadership abilities. The Boss quickly discerns that a severe food shortage is imminent on Elephant Island. The consummate commander, Sir Ernest acts swiftly and decisively. He readies a twenty-two foot boot for the “forlorn hope” of sailing across “the most treacherous seas in the world” in the dead of an Antarctic winter to South Georgia Island, some eight hundred miles away. The odds of success are staggeringly slim, but Shackleton and five others remain undaunted and resolute. Reaching South Georgia Island and launching a rescue effort is the expedition’s sole hope of survival.

Leaving Frank Wild in charge on Elephant Island, Worsley and Shackleton and five others set out. Worsley describes the scene the night before the leave: “It is a dreadful thing to face your shipmates, men who have been through thick and thin with you, and to realize that in all probability it is for the last time; nor does it add to your serenity of mind to know that if you fail to come back they will starve to death.”

Worsley concludes On Elephant Island with thoughts of the men left behind: “…I felt that whatever hardships we might be called upon to face, we were the fortunate ones. Inactivity and uncertainty would come harder to men of the type of my shipmates than the unknown adventure that was before us.” He adds pointedly, “We had in fact started on the greatest adventure of our career.”

In chapter VI, The Boat Journey Begins, Worsley chronicles some of the challenges facing the determined little crew of the James Caird in their desperate attempt to sail north:

- Finding a way of breaking through the encircling line of pack-ice to north of Elephant Island so they can make for the open water
-Constant risk of being smashed by sea ice
-Being constantly wet for the duration of the journey
- Frozen reindeer skin sleeping bags
- Contaminated fresh water
- Being battered by blizzards and ferocious storms

Deciding upon the best point to make for, Shackleton emphasizes getting north as quickly as possible, “even though the route might be lengthened, so as to avoid all danger of ice and to relieve us from the almost overwhelming cold”:

“What do you think of Cape Horn?” he asked, adding, “it’s the nearest.”
“Yes,” I replied, “but we can never reach it. The westerly gales would blow us away. With luck, though, we might fetch the Falkland Islands.”
“I am afraid that, although it is the longest run,” he remarked, “we shall have to make for South Georgia, as you originally suggested. The gales will drive us leeward.” And do they do, but not without incident on what Worsley understates as an”eventful and truly dreadful journey.”
They finally land on South Georgia, but on the opposite side of the Norwegian whaling station and help. The boats isn’t safe to put to sea again, nor are some members of the crew, who are too weak to continue. So Shackleton, Worsley and Tom Crean “rope up” and set out to cross the uncharted “impassable” interior of South Georgia Island. Worsley later records:

Without sleep, halting only for meals, we had crossed South Georgia in thirty six hours. Incidentally, he continues, “I learnt afterwards that we had crossed the island during the only interval of fine weather that occurred that winter. There was no doubt that Providence had been with us. There was indeed one curious thing about our crossing South Georgia… which I have never been able to explain. Whenever I reviewed the incidents of that march I had the sub-conscious feeling that there were four of us, instead of three. Moreover, this impression was shared by both Shackleton and Crean.

The exhausted trio stumbles into the whaling station on South Georgia on May 20. Three days later Shackleton and Worsley leave the island aboard a whaler bound for Elephant Island, determined to rescue their marooned shipmates. Weather forces them to turn back within sixty miles of Elephant Island. Heroic efforts to secure another vessel and safe passage finally pay off – on their fourth attempt. The strain of Shackleton and concern for his men is recorded by Worsley, who writes: “Lines scored themselves on his face more deeply day by day; his thick, dark, wavy hair was becoming silver. He had not a grey hair when we had started out to rescue our men the first time. Now, on the third return journey, he was grey-headed.”

It is August 30, 1916. “One hundred and twenty-eight days since we had left them” writes Worsley, “days covering the worse of the Antarctic winter.” One of the most poignant passages in this narrative appears on page 179 as Shackleton, on his fourth attempt at rescue, peers “with almost painful intensity through his binoculars” at the near coast of Elephant Island. He’s counting: “There are only two, Skipper!” Then, `No, four!’ A short pause followed and he exclaimed, `I see six-eight-‘ and at last, in a voice ringing with joy he cried, `They are all there! Every one of them! They are all saved!””

A boat is lowered and Shackleton leaps into it. “And as he drew close into the shore I hear him shout: `Are you all well?’ Back came their answering yell, `All well!’ followed by his wholehearted `Thank God!’

It is an historical fact that not a single man was ever lost in any expedition headed by Ernest Shackleton.

The narrative drops off precipitously following the Elephant Island rescue, but picks up steam on page 251, Southwards Again, when Worsley rejoins his old friend for another assault on the Antarctic. The year is 1922. Sadly, the return expedition isn’t meant to be. The author’s “best friend” dies of a massive heart attack in his cabin on South Georgia Island on January 5, days before his return to most desolate, storm-swept place on earth” that proved his mettle and made him a hero. Shackleton is buried on South Georgia Island.

Worsley’s final chapter, The Death of A Hero, sensitively records the final scene with affection and admiration that shine through in every paragraph. “He had a way of compelling loyalty” writes one who sailed with him. “We would have gone anywhere without question just on his order.” Asks Worsley rhetorically, “What more glowing tribute could any man wish for?”

Indeed, Endurance isn't just “a tale of unrelenting high adventure,” but a tribute “to one of the most inspiring and courageous leaders of men in the history of exploration.” This book is a compelling look into the heart and soul of a man whose extraordinary sagacity, capability, kindliness, courage and “wonderful capacity for self-sacrifice” set a standard for Leadership that still makes the world sit back and wonder. An outstanding read.