Here in America

Port Land

2012-01-28T14:35:00.000-08:00

A Portland vista. (I didn't take this picture myself. In the absence of my own photos I nabbed this one from Google images. This is in southwest Portland; we were in Clackamas to the southeast, but this view is very similar to what I saw around Carol's house).

"Oregon almost feels like a foreign country. Florida, Ohio, Michigan--the states where I've spent most of my life are vastly diffferent from each other but also similar in their mostly flat landscape. Portland is dramatically hilly and that makes the surrounding area appear unlike anywhere I've lived (in recent memory anyway, since I was born here after all). Beyond that everything feels smaller than in the expanses of middle America--the roads, the shopping centers, the subdivisions, the houses It reminds me of someplace in Europe or Japan--Australia really comes to mind."
--from my pen & paper journal, Tuesday, December 27, 2011

For the last two years our visits to Portland were so short that we spent most of the time holed up in Carol's apartment. Thursday and Friday were spent getting relaxing and getting ready for the big Saipan Thanksgiving feast. Sabbath there was a brief excursion to church, and that was about it. Sunday morning we'd be back on a plane headed home. But this time, with almost all full week at our disposal, we are able to get out, and actually get a sense of Portland, Oregon.

Though this is the city where I was born, and the region where I spent the first eight years or so of my life, Oregon feels distinctly exotic.

A Hawthorne district streetscape (again lifted from Google Images)

The state in general, and the city in particular has a reputation for being more than a little bohemian. Stereotypical Portland is a hippie retreat, a redoubt of artisnal living. It is eco-conscious, politically liberal, and femnist friendly. The men wear full beards, suspenders and skinny jeans, the women dreadlocks, peasant dresses and thrift store accessories. This is the Portland parodied in the IFC hit series Portlandia. (Portlandia was my original title for this blog, but it just felt too derivative). During our week I definitely got the sense of the orgins of this stereotype. I found it particularly interesting that this Portlander persona seemed to span the generations. Where we live the granola lifestyle is largely the province of young adults--college students, but not so in Portland. Portland remains the only place where I've seen more than once, women well into their sixties and older dressed like young hipsters--and pulling it off too!

Of course, like all stereotypes, this picture of Oregon is limiting and poorly reflects the rich diversity of people, viewpoints, and culture to be found in the state. Nonetheless, I enjoyed getting a taste of Port Land. Given, that Babs and I are a little bohemian ourselves we loved the vibe.

I wouldn't mind living there if not for the constant rain, and the vaguely somber feel of the place that has nothing to do with the it's gentle hippie folk and everything to do with dark memories from my earliest days there. While Oregon may not be our home, its very "foreign-ness" makes it a place where I always feel at home.

With the Paez's in Portland

2012-01-21T14:07:00.000-08:00

"The Feller" with "Cool Guy" on the left and Fredo on the right at the Oregon Zoo, New Years Eve, 2011. Unfortnately, I have very few photos of our visit to Oregon. Most of the pictures were on Barbara's phone, which crashed just a few days ago. If I'd blogged last weekend as I planned, those photos and video would have been saved.

For the first two years, our visits to Portland were defined by Saipan. They were the "Saipan Thanksgivings" where we met old and dear Saipan friends to carry on the island tradition of spending the holiday together here in America.

But this year, we didn't make the trip at Thanksgiving, flying out instead on the day after Christmas. We decided that the brutally short trip over the Thanksgiving weekend just wasn't enough. Two days of travel to spend two days with some of our best friends in the world just didn't make sense. So we decided to forgo the tradition in favor of the friendships. This year the trip was not about flashbacks to the past, but friendships that continue to thrive in the present, and on into the future.

Some my favorite memories from our week in Portland with the Paez family:

The House:
We left Columbus Monday morning, Decmber 26 after driving back up the day before from Dayton where we'd spent the Christmas weekend with Barbara's family. We arrived in Portland around six in the evening and were met at the airport by Keisha and "Big Sister." (Carol had already gone to work).

Carol bought a new house, just weeks after our Thanksgiving visit last year, and this year we got to enjoy her beautiful new digs. If there is one word to describe her house, it's "warm." Of course I know a big part of that is the people, but it's also the wood floors, the comfy couches, the gas fireplace, the monster island in the kitchen perfect for whipping up a batch of cinnamon rolls while chatting with one or more Paez family members. It's the color scheme of taupe and ivory. Everything about her house purrs warmth, comfort, and rest.

The whole week was one of the most relaxing of the entire year for me. I spent much of my time reading (I finished Evan Schneider's debut novel A Simple Machine, Like the Lever. A good read with bite-sized chapters and likable if somewhat inept main character. Read friend and fellow blogger Mai Rhea Odiyar's review here. Mine will be forthcoming). I watched a few movies on Netflix: Rabbit Hole, the good but gloomy Nicole Kidman and Aaron Eckhart drama and Art & Copy, a fascinating documentary about the ad industry are two films that come to mind, though I might have watched a few others. I also started watching Dollhouse, a TV series Fredo introduced to me. It only ran two seasons, before being cancelled, but lives on on Netflix. I've enjoyed what I've seen so far. I cooked at my leisure, trying out several new recipes from a cookbook we bought Carol for Christmas, and making my usual Christmas gifts of baked goods for the Paez kids. This year I made "Big Sister" a pretty decent lemon tart, peach cobbler for Fredo and Wylie, peanut butter blossom cookies for "Cool Guy", and unbelievably good cinnamon rolls for Keisha (I liked those so much I made another batch on Sabbath. This particular recipe makes moist, melt in your mouth rolls rich with brown sugar and cinnamon, and slathered with a generous covering of homemade cream cheese frosting--we're talking Cinnabon level of deliciousness!).

Curled up one of Carol's comfy chairs next to the fireplace puttering around on my computer or ipad while chatting with "Big Sister", Keisha, Carol or some other member of the tribe, or engrossed in a book or magazine was definitely a highlight of the week for me.

Skype with Mai and "Big Sister":

Around mid afternoon Tuesday, December 27 "Big Sister" and I connected with Mai on Skype for some catching up. Mai is another one of those people whose friendship has transcended the time we shared with her on Saipan, and it was such a pleasure to spend some time with her in Portland, even if it was only virtual.

The three of us "together": Mai took this screen shot of us while we were chatting. You can just tell by our faces how nice it was to reconnect.

Hawthorne & Navigating the Backroads of Portland/Clackamas with Keisha.

On Wednesday, December 28, we headed out to the bohemian Portland neighborhood of Hawthorne. Filled with cafes, restuarants, vintage-wear shops, funky boutiques, and a branch of the most un-Wall Street looking bank I've ever seen, Hawthorne is as stereotypically Portlandia as they come. (Next blog up, I'll share my observations of Portalnd culture). In keeping with the Oregon cliche, it was drizzling steadily when we arrived, and we walked in the chilly rain for awhile trying to decide where to eat. We ended up at Rice Junkies, a little place that served a hodgepodge of ethnic food. I decided on Korean, and had a delicious bibimbap bowl with a side of kimchi. It was the first time I"d had kimchi since we left Saipan, and it was so good!

After lunch, we wandered the stacks at the Hawthorne branch of Powell's Books, another iconic Portland establishment. This cooler than the big-box booksellers store reminded me a lot of the Book Loft here in Columbus with it's narrow aisles, 32 rooms of books (Powell's didn't have quite that many) and wide range of books. I picked up A Simple Machine. Like the Lever here and glanced through a couple of other interesting titles as well. After book store browsing for a bit, Keisha, "Big Sister", the Feller and I went to Chez Machin Creperie & Bistro, while Babs and Carol went to a nearby Fred Meyers. A good crepe is a rare thing and should never be passed up. The best crepes I've ever had were at a little stand called Crepe Expectations in the Cairns Central Shopping Centre in tropical North Queensland Australia, but this place came a close second. I had the La Delice--a crepe filled with nutella, vanilla custard, and rasberry jam, and topped with ice cream--and it was wonderful. One of my favorite memories of our week is of sitting in the cozy warmth of this little creperie with rain streaking the windows outside, and good conversation and food inside. When we next visit Portland this place is definitely on my list to go back to.

"Big Sister"

Keisha

The Feller

The Crepes

On the drive to and from Hawthorne, we couldn't quite all fit in one car, so while everyone else rode with Carol, I rode with Keisha to keep her company. It was nice to catch up with her a little bit. She's a full-on adult now, about to become an officer in the United Marine Corps, but she's still the same old Keisha, with lots of interesting stories, and strong opinions on just about everything under the sun! On the drive back we had a little adventure as we got a bit lost trying to get back to the Paez house. Keisha's GPS was on the fritz and we ended up driving around for quite awhile. It was a bit crazy driving through those winding, hilly Oregon backroads, with rain pouring down and the windows so fogged up we could barely see the road. Eventually, I got the navigation app on my new phone working, right about the time Keisha's phone righted itself, and together both phones talked us home. It was a little nerve-wracking at the time, but looking back its' a nice memory of an adventure with Keisha.

Touching Base with Saipan

On Friday night, December 30, we were gathered in Carol's welcoming kitchen digging into the lasgana-style baked ziti I'd made when Virle popped up on Skype. On a whim, I asked her if she wanted to say hi to some familiar faces, and moments later she called us up. Carol, Babs, and I ended up talking to her for well over an hour, getting all the latest Saipan news and gossip. During our chat, the second-oldest Paez son, Wylie showed up uannounced, bringing with him another familiar face from our Saipan days, J.D. Tanaka. J.D. went to Saipan SDA School for middle school, but we hadn't seen him since he graduated from 8th grade. Wylie and JD's appearance made our little Saipan reunion complete.

New Years Eve at the Zoo

On Sabbath, December 31 we went to church, had a quick lunch at home, and then took the train to the Oregon Zoo. Our son was very excited about seeing elephants, and though it was bitterly cold, we all had a good time. We saw the elephants and a surprising number of other animals that could manage the chilly weather. We arrived just before sundown, when the zoo's holiday lights went on display so we were able to enjoy that as well. We had some really great pictures and video from that evening, but unfortnately almost all of them were on Barbara's phone, which crashed just a few days ago. She ended up getting a replacement phone for free since it was still under warrantee but we lost all her pictures. Still, we have the memories--the Feller thrilled by the packyderms, an exhilarting drum circle with "Big Sister" and the Feller at a stand of African drums not far from the shuttered lions display, and supper together at the AfriCafe.

Our family at the Oregon Zoo on the last day 2011. I wish we had a picture of the whole Paez family. In fact, there is a really good one that they have. I'll have to get it and add it to this post.

We got back to the Paez home fairly early in the evening, with enough time to pack up our stuff for the next day's flight out and still have time to sit down and watch a movie and quietly welcome in 2012.

Fredo reads the Feller a story.

I've come to believe that good friends are too rare to treat casually. The vast majority of the people we come in contact with are there only for a season before fading into memory as the demands of daily life and the busy round of routine consume us. Most of us have--and are--friends of convenience, close because of physical and schedule proximity. But there are the few--those friends that transcend the daily grind. You can probably count these people on one, maybe two, hands for whom time and distance are no deterrant. These are the friends that you make time for, the friends you're willing to go the distance to see. Friends like that are exceedingly precious, and we are lucky to have such friends in Carol Paez and her children.

What a Way to Start the New Year!

2012-01-06T16:55:00.000-08:00

Talk about a win-win situation!

So we were on our way back from a fantastic week in Oregon with our dear friend Carol Paez and her tribe (look for an upcoming blog on our visit), and we had a layover in Chicago. While we were waiting at the gate, Barbara heard them calling for volunteers to be bumped as the flight was oversold. They were offering $400 per traveler in flight coupons, and later flights to Columbus and Dayton.

At first when Babs suggested we volunteer to be bumped, I was unenthusiastic. "No, let's just get home." Anyone who knows me, knows I hate a change of plans. But after about two minutes of reflection I gave myself a mental smack across the face: "What's the matter with you? Pass up $1200 in flight vouchers just to get home a little sooner?"

We volunteered to be bumped and that choice turned out to be even better than I'd first realized. They only had one seat to Columbus four hours later., but they had three seats to Dayton a mere half hour after our original flight was scheduled to leave. We had no choice but to take the Dayton flight, and it was a good thing too. You see, we'd left Kimo with Bab's parents in Dayton and the plan had been that the next day I would drive down to their house, pick her up, and bring her back. With our change in travel plans, the Leens met us at the Dayton airport with Kimo. We drove in a rented car back to Columbus, picked up our car at the airport, and were home maybe three hours later than we otherwise would have been, but with lots of free air travel to cash in, and Kimo home with us already.

The next day, relaxing at home, watching the snow come down, I was doubly grateful that United Airlines had essentially flown me to Dayton to get my dog and paid me for their trouble to boot!

If the start is any indication, this going to be fantastic year!

Calling All Heroes

2011-12-31T01:23:00.001-08:00

Is this you? You might be surprised by the answer. Not all heroes come dressed in tights and a cape, and equipped with super powers.

A little more than four years ago, I set out to identify and honor some of the most influential people in my life. It turned out to be one of the most satisfying things I've ever done, both in this blog and in my life. I kept the spirit of that original series of posts alive in my annual Heroes and Inspirations post which I prepare each summer. So far I've recognized thirty people who have served as personal inspirations, and that practice has impacted the way I live my life. Throughout the year, I'm looking for people who amaze, impress, and inspire me--people who make me say "I want to be more like that." Below are links to the nominees for 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010 and 2011.

Heroes & Inspirations 2007

Heroes & Inspirations 2008

Heroes & Inspirations 2009

Heroes & Inspirations 2010

Heroes & Inspirations 2011

When I came to Columbus Adventist Academy, I had an idea to share this practice with my students and the 100 Heroes Project was born. Starting on the first day of school, and going through the 100th day of classes, my students and I shared with each other a hero a day. In the spring of 2010 my students organized a Heroes Reception to honor their chosen heroes. We had a shoestring budget but were nonetheless able to create a memorable evening, a gala occasion that the everyday heroes we honored will surely never forget. Read about the first Heroes Reception here.

After a year's hiatus, the Heroes Reception is back, and this time I hope to make it an annual event. We've set February 5, 2012 as the date of the reception, and in when we get back into school next week we'll be sending out the official invitations to all of this year's chosen heroes. A few of my own heroes from this year and last will be in an attendance as well. Ideally I would have liked to invite them all, but my class ended up being much larger than I expected this year, and in order to make sure that my students could honor all of their heroes, I limited the number of personal invitations for myself. After all, this is about them, not me.

The students divided into committees to plan the program, music, decorations, gifts, food, and all the other myriad aspects of this program. They've been planning since school began and when school resumes the planning will go into overdrive as we enter the final weeks before the Reception. The only limit on their ambition to create a special and memorable evening for their heroes is their budget. And that's where you come in.

I'd like to invite you, my readers, to support my students in their Heroes Reception, by making a donation towards the event. I'd like to thank those readers that have already made donations; I'm not exaggerrating when I say this event could not happen without you.

On Sunday evening, February 5, 2012 we will honor the heroes who have made a difference in the lives in my 7th and 8th grade students. We will be able to do so because other heroes--people like you--stepped up and helped make it happen. In advance, I thank you for your support.

Checks should be made out to Columbus Adventist Academy with Heroes Reception written in the memo portion of the check.

Mail your gift to:

Columbus Adventist Academy
Attn: Heroes Reception
3650 B Sunbury Rd.
Columbus, OH 43219

Landmarks: Three Albums That Shaped My Life

2011-12-31T01:20:00.001-08:00

Once in a rare while you come across a piece of music that stops you in your tracks. Like meeting the girl of your dreams, you never forget the very moment when you encountered that sublime combination of melody, rhythm, and words. It's not surprising, considering that like the girl of your dreams, the music will become a permanent part of your life, a constant source of joy and inspiration.

So far there are only three albums that meet this lofty criteria for me, and in this entry I'd like to share them with you. This is not about how these are the greatest musical recordings of all time, nor is it a fan's obsessive dissection of each and every note and lyric. It is a bit of a peek into what makes me tick. These are more than collections of music, they are windows into the way that I see the world, how I think, what matters most to me. If you want to know me, you'll learn a lot in listening to these three albums, because all three both reflect and have influenced the person I am today.

"I want to run. . . "
February 1992, U2: The Joshua Tree

I was 18 years old and on the bus on my senior class trip. Like most of my classmates, I had my indespensible walkman, and searching for new tunes to pass the miles, I popped in a borrowed cassette of Achtung Baby, the hot new album by the biggest band in the land, U2. I was familiar with a lot of the tunes. "Mysterious Ways" and "One" were topping the charts and all over the radio. For all of high school I'd been a very vocal hater of U2. In truth my distaste for the band was rooted in ignorance (I really didn't know much about their music beyond the big hits on the radio) and in a perverse desire to irritate Esther Pierre Louis who was a huge fan of the ban. Achtung Baby had already begun to wear down this purported "hatred" of U2, but it was about to be completely upended in short order. When I'd worn out my friend Carissa's cassette, I wanted more of the band, and somehow I ended up with another tape, this one borrowed from Tony Exxon, a guy in my class that I barely knew. The cover showed a somber black and white portrait of a group of men standing in the desert. The title of the album was The Joshua Tree.

The album opens like a sunrise. An almost imperceptible melody and chiming guitar that gradually grows in brightness until it burts forth into golden splendor and I can almost "feel sunlight on my face." For years to come, on long haul drives between college in Michigan and home in Florida, I would put this album in the tape player right at the moment of sunrise so as to have the visual to go with audio daybreak. The steady beat and the thrum of the bass are reminiscent of the regular slap of my running shoes on pavement on an early morning run. I hear it and "I want to run." To this day "Where the Streets Have No Name" is always the first song on my race day playlist.

I was floored. I'd never heard anything like it and I couldn't get enough. Instantly, The Joshua Tree became one of my favorite records, and so it remains to this day. Socially conscious, rife with spiritual metaphors, and bringing fresh perspectives on timeless matters of the heart expressed in music as big as the wide open spaces and as personal as an earnest conversation, The Joshua Tree has been a fundamentalpart of my life for almost twenty years.

There are all kinds of versions of this album out there. Various remasters and bonus discs and such. The basic version on Amazon goes for around $13 for the disc or a mere five bucks for the download.

Itunes carries it for $10.

"Saints and children we are gathered here to hear the sacred story. . ."
March 1995, Rich Mullins: A Liturgy, A Legacy, and A Ragamuffin Band

I was on spring break from my year as student missionary teacher on Chuuk and visiting friends and fellow student missionaries on the emerald island of Pohnpei in the Micronesian Pacific. One of those friends, Missy Morrison, lent me a cassette tape with Rich Mullins' A Liturgy, A Legacy, and A Ragamuffin Band all one one side and most of other. I remember putting it in my walkman for the first time on a Friday night while lying in the darkness on my guestbed on the couch. The tape was half-played and picked up mid-song and mid-album, but it didn't matter. I was immediately struck. I'd never heard anything so beautiful in my life. Rich sang that he hoped we'd hear the water falling in his music, and I did--that and so much more. I listened to the album to the end, rewound the cassette and listend to it all the way through again. And again. When I left Pohnpei, I had my own copy of the tape, and you might say I've been listening to it ever since. In the remaining months of my time in Chuuk, Liturgy was my choice of music on Sabbath afternoons. I'd listen to it on my walkman down at the beach near our school, and let the music play as the sun set and another Sabbath came to ane end. I'd walk home in the gathering dark listening to "How to Grow Up Big and Strong" and "Land of My Sojourn"--the songs to start a new week. On my return to America, the opening track became my theme song--a reminder that I hadn't been forgotten by the Holy King of Israel even here in America.

Both in words and music, Liturgy captures the beauty, the joy, day-to-day struggle of this journey we call life . Despite the overt Christian emphasis, I felt this was an album that I wanted to share with anyone without any intentions to proselytize. This was music of the highest quality and lyrics rich enough that they could have stood alone without a melody and been considered poetry in their own right.

I actually don't listen to Liturgy as often as I used to, and yet, the songs are always with me. When ever I stand in awe of the beauty of creation evident in something as simple as the color green. When I'm shaking like a leaf and fighting the Lord for somthing that I don't really want instead of taking what He gives that I need. When I wish peace to a friend, or bemoan how hard it can be to be like Jesus, but remember that what I believe is not what I have made but what is making me. When I remember the songs I learned with my students, and carry on. When I'm lonely for my home in this, the land of my sojourn, I'm hearing the Liturgy still, and singing it in my heart.

$12 bucks will get you the CD on Amazon.
You can download the album from Itunes for $10 on either Itunes or Amazon.

"Its undeniable how brilliant you are. . ."
July, 2007, Mat Kearney: Nothing Left to Lose

Springboro, Ohio in the last days of summer vacation. My best friend J had sent me a burned copy of an album by a new artist he'd discovered, a guy named Mat Kearney. This is a must-listen he urged me. And so on a sunny afternoon while I was toiling away at the draft of my novel, I popped in the disc and was promptly blown away. I'd never heard anything like it. The hip-hop rhymes, the catchy acoustic guitar strum, the joyful, thoughtful lyrics. Immediately it was in heavy rotation.

I associate Nothing Left to Lose with Hawaii, because just days after I got the album Babs and I flew there for what, unbeknownst to us, would be our last time there together. Every year since she'd become principal of the Saipan SDA School, we'd spent the first week of August at the principals' meetings and student missionary orientation which were held most years on the island of Oahu. It was our ten year wedding anniversary, and Mat's songs seranaded us constantly. Everytime I hear those songs I see the sheer walls of green mountains rising up around us on the Pali Highway, the verdant tropical landscape of Hawaiian Mission Academy, the sparkle of lights on Waikiki with Diamond Head looming in the background. Nothing Left to Lose became this kid from Oregon by way of Florida's soundtrack to our amazing life in the Pacific. Everyday we were out there was unforgettable, unmistakable, an undeniably brilliant blessing from God and each time I hear those lyrics, I still feel the same sense of gratitude for the life we have.

Nothing Left to Lose can be bought on CD on Amazon for anywhere from $13 to $17.

Itunes has the whole album for cool $8, and it appears you may also get Mat's single "Breathe In, Breathe Out" (made famous on the television drama Grey's Anatomy) and "Chicago" as part of the deal.
Three more songs from these touchstone artists that have resonated with me:

"Lifetime" by Mat Kearney. My personal theme song and Favorite Song of All Time.
"Zooropa" by U2. Ironic critique of the world in which we live and the up-side down values of our culture that is "cold outside but brightly lit."
"All the Way My Savior Leads Me" by Rich Mullins. My daily praise, my daily bread, my daily prayer.

Crdl Christmas

2011-12-28T12:04:00.000-08:00

Or The Year I Grew Up

The Crdl. The Must-Have Christmas Gift of 1988. .. or so I was told.

When I was fifteen years old, Christmas as I knew it came toan end. With it, came the end of mychildhood and the beginning of a new, grown-up experience of what makes theChristmas season special.

Up until that fateful year, the kids in our family—the threeSaliba cousins, Nabih, William, and Yvette, the pair of Thomson cousins Nicoleand Landon, and my brother, sister and me—received a mountain of presents eachChristmas. Every member of our immediate and extended family bought presentsfor everyone else and the result was a cornucopia, a jackpot of gifts heaped ina gratuitous mound that spread from underneath the tree half-way across theliving room.

This particular year, for various grown-up reasons that thedecision was made that it was time to dial down the gift giving. I was always under the impression thatgrandma, the family’s fearsome Matriarch had decided that the holiday excesshad become absurd, and that it was time we had a more reasonable spread beneaththe tree. In any case, for the firsttime we drew names, and the word went forth: This year there would only be one Christmas gift per person.

It seemed like heresy, this idea that we would come awaywith exactly one present for the entire Christmas (though in truth, I think mostof the families exchanged a few more privately. I know we did. I received thevery nice coffee table book A Day in theLife of America, something I’d wanted for quite some time). But the decision had been made and no allowancewas made for appeal.

That year’s Christmas was unusual in a number of otherways. First of all, we traveled for theholiday. Traditionally the Salibas cameto us, in Florida, where the rest of the Thomson clan lived. They escaped the frigid Michigan winter for alittle bit, and we all went to Disney World and had a grand time. But this year we all made the trek north toBerrien Springs. We kids were excited bythe road trip and the chance to have an actual white Christmas for a change.

Another difference was that we opened presents in theafternoon, rather than in the morning, which meant an especially agonizing waitfor the kids. The reason for the delaywas that my Uncle Sy and Aunt Patsy were returning from a trip to southeast AsiaChristmas morning. I remember theirarrival late that morning and assuming that surely the first thing on theiragenda would be to tackle our meager collection under the tree. Instead they wanted to shower andchange. Then they wanted to eat. Then there were interminable stories of theirtrip and home video to go along with the stories. The afternoon seemed to drag on forever! How could they be so cavalier about somethingso important as presents? How could theybear to wait so long.

Had I known what was waiting for me under that tree I mighthave relaxed and enjoyed the afternoon a little more.

Ever since we’d arrived in Michigan, there’d been a runningjoke among the family. Someone would pose a question, with exaggerated gravity: “What do you want for Christmas?” The equally solemn response was: “More thananything in the whole world, I want a crdl.” This would be followed by gales of laughter. The crdl (prounounced “criddle”) was theobject of much professed longing and the subject of much hilarity among myfamily. I couldn’t figure out what thiscrdl was or why it was so desirable (and so funny). After a while I began to pretend that I hadfigured out what a crdl was, and that I also wanted one more than anything, andthis for some reason produced even more mirth among my family members. Still I felt that this was a family insidejoke that I’d somehow been left out of.

Until that Christmas afternoon anyway. When at last we gathered around the Christmastree, and each of us received our gift, I peeled back the wrapping paper todiscover that my cousin William had given me. . . . a crdl. The fabled crdl was a large magnet encased ina black plastic platform. The platformcontained a mound of shiny metal chips which could be shaped into variousabstract sculptures. You could evenbrush all the chips off the platform and onto the floor or-- even a table!--and then use the platform to magically and magnetically swoop all the piecesback up. It could serve suitably as aunique paperweight or desk ornament—just the sort of thing a business executiveor sales rep might fiddle with while talking on the phone. In other words, the crdl was pretty muchboring and useless, particularly for a fifteen year old boy.

I did my best to hide my disappointment (which wasparticularly crushing since this was my only present for the day), and gamelyhad a laugh at my own expense. I supposeit could have been worse, I told myself. I could have gotten the automatic phone dialer my cousin Nabih received(though really even that was probably more useful than the crdl).

For years afterwards the Crdl Christmas served as a holidaylow-light for me, on record as one of the worst Christmases ever. But recently as I prepared to tell the taleof the Crdl Christmas for the chidlren’s story at church, I came to realizethat perhaps that Christmas was more significant than I’d realized. The Christmas of the Crdl was the year that Igrew up—it was the dividing point between when Christmas had been all about thepresents and when Christmas became all about the people. Before the Crdl Christmas, presents had beenwhat I anticapted most at Christmastime. After the Crdl Christmas, spending time with people I love came to be what I looked forward to most.

I’ve come to understand that if the Crdl Christmas was theworst one on record then I’m extraordinarily blessed. EachChristmas that I’ve been able to spend in good health, with all my needs andmany of my wants provided for, that I’vebeen able to gather with people I love, every holiday that I’ve been able tolook upon with gratitude for the grace of God, is indeed among the mostwonderful times of the year. Each yearthat I have the luxury of disappointment over a gift that somewhat missed themark, I have reason to rejoice.

I spent Christmas 2011 with the in-laws, and then onMonday, December 26, Babs, the Feller and I flew out to Oregon to spend aweek with Carol Paez and her family. Already, I’ve had a great week of vacation spending special time with myson. I find I barely think at all aboutwhat I’ll get for Christmas this year. The real gift is in those gatheredaround the tree, not in what’s underneath it.

All grown-up now. From Left to Right: My sister Dawn with her son, me, Kyle Koenigshof (my cousin Nicole's husband), Nicole Thomson Koenigshof all gathered around the tree at my Uncle Robert and Aunt Diana's house last Christmas 2010.

Gathered around the tree this Christmas. With Mom Leen at the Leens, Sunday, December 25, 2011

These two are all the Christmas presents I need! (Babs and the Feller making Christmas cookies at home. December 20, 2011)

As children we believed

The grandest sight to see

Was something lovely

Wrapped beneath our tree.

Well Heaven surely knows

That packages and bows

Can never heal

A hurting human soul

No more lives torn apart

That wars would never start

And time would heal all hearts

And everyone would have a friend

And right would always win

And love would never end

This is my grown up Christmas list

--“GrownUp Christmas List”, as sung by Amy Grant

PostScript:

While this grown-up doesn't care too much about presents anymore, I'm not gonna lie: I got the best Christmas present EVER from my wife this year! Check it out:

The Samsung Galaxy SII

Traditions

2011-12-28T11:31:00.000-08:00

The Feller runs his first race, the 1/4 mile "Gobbler Chase" on Thanksgiving Day, 2011.

This past Thanksgiving was a quiet one. We didn't travel far. . in fact we were at home for Thanksgiving Day itself, although we did go down to the Leens for the weekend. There was no need for an added table or even the fold-out leaf at the Thanksgiving table, as there were just five of us this year.

Though we missed our traditional Saipan Thanksgiving gathering, we still had a wonderful time with our family. The usual holiday traditions were there, just writ-small.

The Thanksgiving Morning Run: Here's my boy and I sporting our medals andcomplimentary t-shirts, post-race back at home.

One thing I've missed in the years since we relocated to the States was the traditional Thanksgiving morning race. This year I was finally able to run in the annual Flying Feather Four Miler in Dublin, Ohio. It wasn't nearly as challenging as Saipan's Turkey Trot, but I made it challenging by pushing myself for a time of 30 minutes or less. It was a tough run, and though I finished in 31 minutes, I still felt really good about my effort. It was nice to really test myself after having held back to support my students during the Buckeye Classic.

Great swag with this race too. They had the usual technical t-shirt and finishers medal, but also a nice hat and set of gloves, and a bottle of wine (or a box of cookies for the non-drinkers) as well.

The Thanksgiving Table: (Minus the turkey, but since I was raised a vegetarian, the turkey has only recently been part of my traditional Thanksgiving, and really, if the turkey hasn't been roasted by Carol Paez, what's the point, right?)

The Big Meal was a little smaller than we're used to but still more than enough food for five--Mom and Dad Leen drove up from Dayton Thanksgiving morning and joined the three of us for the feast. We had a lot of traditional favorites: special K loaf, dinner loaf, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes (made using Carol Paez's luxurious recipe including sour cream and cream cheese), stuffing, layerd salad, cranberry sauce, and dinner rolls. I also added in a new dish of pureed squash with ginger and pumpkin pie for dessert. Actually, I guess that is quite a bit of food isn't it? At any rate, we had plenty of leftovers to last for several more meals to come.

Family: There's no substitute for Mom and Dad.

We really appreciated Mom and Dad making the drive over to Columbus to spend the holiday with us. Originally Babs had been scheduled to work both the day before and the day after Thanksgiving, so we had asked them to come to us this year so we wouldn't have to go down to their place on the night before Thanksgiving, come back the next afternoon and then drive back to Dayton yet again after Barbara got off work on Friday. Well, it turned out that Babs ended up getting both Wednesday and Friday off, but by then Elijah and I were already registerd to run Thanksgiving morning. So they came up Thursday morning and spent the night, and then we all drove down to Dayton for the rest of the weekend. It was nice to spend time with them, as it always is. It's so nice that we live so close and can see them so often.

Black Friday! Babs and Mom Leen didn't have the presence of mind to take photos of their Black Friday shopping adventures so I snagged this one from the Web via a Google Image search.

This is a relatively new tradition for us--well, mainly for Babs. I did a little shopping during daylight hours on Friday morning and got a pretty decent deal on some snow boots (which so far it appears I'll get little use from this winter). We dabbled a little bit last year in Oregon, getting up early to hit some of the stores (a relatively easy feat since we were awake with jet lag anyway). That's when I bought the laptop I'm typing this on. But this year, Babs and her mom--avid shoppers year around as it is--took in the full experience. They left the house not long after the menfolk had gone to bed, around 11:30 A.M. and didn't return until 9:00 A.M. the next morning. With the stores staggering their openings throughout the wee hours this year, they were able to hit multiple stores. Babs only bought a few things, but I guess they were out there for the experience as much as for the deals.

They say that Black Friday actually features only a few real deals, and often similar sales are available throughout the year with much less fanfare. But if you like to shop, and thrill to finding a true bargain as my wife does, Black Friday can be a lot of fun and a real adventure. It's fine with me as long as the doorbusters don't bust our budget!

So it was a pretty quite holiday, but we still managed a nod to the usual traditions, and we were thankful as we always our for a rich blessed life and people who we love and who love us in return.

The Die-Hards

2011-12-25T19:07:00.000-08:00

Last month Babs, the Feller and I took a long weekend to drive up to Chicago to see the Carlos family. They left Columbus this summer after J got a new job at Hinsdale Academy. Our son was quite excited to see his best buddy again and so was I!

We took the trip the weekend before Thanksgiving, which might seem an odd time to visit, but the original motivation for the trip was a Mat Kearney concert scheduled for Thursday, November 17 at the Chicago House of Blues. Though I'd seen Mat twice already, once just a few months earlier, J had never seen him live. So we planned the whole weekend around this event. When it comes to Mat Kearney, we're that kind of fan:

Die-hards.

In the photos above and below you see the first two people to get in line for the concert. Doors opened at six and the show started at seven. We left J's house in Downers Grove, Illinois around 2:30 and arrived at the House of Blues in dowtown Chicago around 3:30 P.M. We figured we'd join the line formed by all the true die-hard Kearney fans, and with two hours or so to wait, still likely get a great spot close to the front.

Well it turned out that we were the die-hards. Funny thing about being a big fan--you assume everyone else is devoted as you are. No one else was there and we snapped these pics of us staking our claim as the number 1 and number 2 Mat Kearney fans in Chicago.

It was bitterly cold. . .in the upper 20's and our die-hard fandom was not such that we were willing to freeze to death, so we ducked into the restaurant and gift shop and debated whether we should spend the $20 a piece to eat in the restaurant and get jumped to the front of the line, thus eradicating the need to stand outside. We weren't really hungry, and heck we already were at the front of the line. We decided to bounce back and forth between the gift shop and the queue to make sure that we kept our spots. We browsed the HOB merch and had a nice chat with the clerk who also happened to be the official concert photographer for the night and an itinerant musician in his own right. I ran across a film crew shooting footage of the opening band, Leagues and talked with them for a little bit. We even got to eavesdrop on Mat's sound check, which they played over the restaurant and gift shop sound system.

After an hour, we were still the only fans around. Figuring our place in line was more or less secure, we decided to walk around and maybe look for something hot to drink. We found an Einstein Brothers coffee shop a block away and relaxed there for a little while.

Nursing a hot chocolate and contemplating the likely setlist

Some shots of the downtown area near the House of Blues. All photos taken by J Carlos with his trusty Samsung Galaxy SII phone.

Around five we headed back to the House of Blues and found a handful of people now gathered at the entrance. We decided to forgo insisting on our number one and two spots and happily settled for 7th and 8th in line.

Our dedication paid off when we finally got in around six and snagged prime spots right at the front rail. For die-hard fans there's no better place to be!

Mat rocks the House

It was a great show as always. The setlist was similar to the Cincinnati show Babs and I saw in September, though we were treated to the addition of "Girl America", a classic from Mat's landmark album Nothing Left to Lose and missed "Sooner or Later" and "Chasing the Light" from his newest album (Presumably these songs entered the set list the following night at his second performance in Chicago). We had a great time, and I have to say seeing your favorite artist in a small venue is an amazing experience. Lucky for us, Mat tours constantly, so I'm sure there'll be many other opportunities for these two die-hards to see him again.

The rest of the weekend was outstanding as well. It was so relaxing to just hang out in the Carlos' cozy little home. It was nice to have Kimo with us too. She did great on the drive up to Chicago and though she seemed a little uncertain when we first arrived, she eventually got comfortable too. The boys are growing up and fighting less (The Feller's blog will have pictures of the weekend with Carlos family soon).

On Friday we drove over into Wisconsin to visit the Jelly Belly jellybean factory, and on Saturday night we took the train into the city. Even though we ended up having to virtually turn around and come right back, the boys had fun riding on the train and cruising downtown Chicago in their strollers (again, check the Feller's blog for pictures soon).

It was a great weekend, and we look forward to visiting again soon.

The Buckeye Challenge

2011-12-11T16:57:00.001-08:00

My students and I at the finish line of the 2011 Buckeye Classic.Sunday, November 13, 2011. They may not have been among the first to finish, but in crossing the finish line they were winners of my Buckeye Challenge.

What I love about distance runs is that the experience ofthe slow and the speedy is the same. Inso many areas of endeavor it seems that it’s easy for the pros and a clumsystruggle for the novice. But not so indistance running. The top shelf runners maybe unbelievably fast, but they work as hard as the first-time marathoner-- ifnot harder--to do what they do. Justlook at the faces of the runners far ahead of the pack—serious, determined,intense with tremendous effort and the will to keep going. Runningis remarkably democratic. Like many things in life, everyone can do it. But every-one—Olympic athlete and couchpotato convert alike--has to put in the work.

"The Win" wearing the this year's Buckeye Classic technical t-shirt. The slogan on the back might as well have been our own motto.

Keep going when itthe going gets tough. Put in the work inorder to reap the reward. Push yourselfpast what you think is possible. Theseare the life lessons I hoped to impart when I gave a few of my students what Inow call the Buckeye Challenge.

It all began with a lunchtime conversation I had with one ofmy students who I will call “The Win.” This young man is always talking about how he’s going be a basketballplayer, and I was pushing him a bit on his choice of career. He’s all right on the court, I suppose, but Ididn’t think he understood the level of discipline, effort, and of coursetalent required to make it in the rarified world of professional sports.

“Do you realize how hard you would have to work to even havea shot at the NBA?” I prodded him.

“I can work hard.”

“I don’t know, Win. I’ve seen you at basketball practice. You’re always one of the first guys walking during laps.”

“I can keep running if I want to,” he replied.

“Really? Think youcould run six miles?” I challenged him.

“Yeah!” he retorted.

And just like that the Buckeye Challenge was born. I invited “The Win” to run with me in theannual Buckeye Classic 10K Run, and he readily accepted. I talked to his parents on the phone thatnight and they were supportive. I beganto put a training schedule together.

"EK" ( a nickname for this student used by his classmates) on the left & "The Win" (so named for his desire to do achieve just that. He's learning what it takes to get there) at the starting line.

“EK” was the next to express interest. I’d been having the same types ofconversations with him—about the value of that which is not easy. Today we live in a culture ofconvenience. We want things quick, easy,and entertaining. My students have beenimpacted by the values of our society as much as anyone. They bow down to the Altar of Easy without asecond thought. If it’s easy it’sgood. If it’s difficult it’s bad. They love to shout out the right answer, towin the game, get the recognition, but easily become bored or discouraged atthe effort and less than exciting process required to truly understand, todevelop real skill, to apply themselves in order to earn the accolades. They see sports heroes and media celebritiesfor whom everything seems to come easily. I shared with “EK” this mashup of a Michael Jordan ad and Lebron Jamesfootage, Mike’s dialogue epitomizes the misperception so many of us have todayabout how success is achieved.

“EK” wanted in, and I was ready to take him on, but it tookhim a little longer to get his family on board. In the meantime, a student I’ll call “B.SteaLth” became the secondmember of my little crew. He doesn’t saymuch (to me any way—with his pals, it’s a different story!), so I was surprisedwhen he approached me quietly and said he wanted to run too.

"B.SteaLth" at the starting line. He's earned his pseudonym because of his quiet manner around adults which belies a more mischevious side with peers, and also becaue of his stealthy development as a runner!

“SteaLth” and “Win” started running with me a couple of daysa week at nearby Innis Park. “EK” joinedus a week or two after we’d begun training, after he finally got the go-aheadfrom his folks. At the outset, it wastough—tougher than I’d imagined. Duringthe weekdays we only ran for thirty minutes, but at first we couldn’t even hittwo miles in that time. I knew the boysmight be a little out of shape, but I wasn’t prepared for gasping pleas for abreak after just a few minutes of running. At first I thought we could run straight through, but when I realizedthat they weren’t up to it, I reduced the time to run 10 minutes, walk oneminute. Even that proved to be too much,and we cut it back to run five minutes and walk one—a (barely) manaegble taskfor our crew of new runners.

There was much to learn, and not just for the threeboys. I was quickly realizing thattalking tough about hard work was a lot easier than actually doing the hardwork. The running at this pace was abreeze for me, but the coaching was proving to be much harder. It turned out I too had fallen sway to theHollywood promise of easy gains. Iimagined myself transforming these boys in one fell swoop, as they quicklypicked up the lessons of discipline, effort, and focus with me providingOscar-worthy inspirational coaching. Irealized I needed patience. I needed topractice the discipline of encouragement and positive thinking even when itappeared we were making no progress at all. I needed to push the boys, yes, but to achieve their best, not mine. Itwas tough, and I realized that I would grow as much, if not more than the boysthrough this experience.

And it was a growing experience for all of us. I felt I grew to know the boys better on ourthirty minute conditioning runs afterschool and on the longer distance runs on the weekend. I watched the boys grow to learn theimportance of pacing and saw their stamina grow as well. Slowly but surely the boys were finding theirgroove, beginning to complain less and less about being tired. They were starting to discover the reward inthe run. All three boys are in greatphysical shape—“The Win” in particular is quite fast in a sprint. Kids this age can often do much more thanadults can, so with these boys it was all about the head game for them. They hadn’t been used to pushing themselvesmentally, but they were learning and growing fast. Every run they did better than they hadbefore. I’ll never forget the day that“Win” ran a full five minutes without once asking when we’d walk. He and I were so engrossed in a conversation about an incident at school that hedidn’t even realize how long he’d been running.

The last two weekends before the actual race I picked up theboys and we went to run parts of the actual course at Highbanks Metro Park. They complained about how “horrible” thoseruns were, but watching them I knew they’d be ready.

Race day dawned dry and chilly, but warmer thanexpected. It was good running weather. I picked up the three boys and we drove outto Highbanks—their families would be there later to cheer them at the finishline. I was so excited for them to be apart of a real race, complete with bib numbers, timing chips, and complimentarytechnical t-shirts. They were excitedtoo. As “cool” as these guys could be,they couldn’t hide their excitement. They felt like they were a part of something big, and they were.

The boys ready to run on race day

Mrs. Arthurs, our school principal, got up early to see usoff at the start line, a gesture of support and encouragement to me and the boysthat meant a lot.

In no time at all, it was time for the race to begin. With a blast of the air horn, we wereoff. “B.SteaLth” and “EK” quicklywove through the masses and soon disappeared from sight. I shook my head and chuckled to “The Win” “We’llsee them again soon enough.” I was onlypartially right. “The Win” kept a decentpace, and though he struggled at some points, he never quit. He kept going. To help motivate him, I picked another runnerwhose pace I thought he could match and perhaps even exceed, and told him tomake it his goal to keep up with her and eventually pass her. He met thechallenge, trading leads with her for much of the race before finally pullinginto a permanent lead in the final miles. I was so proud of him. Eventually,we caught up with “EK” deep into the fourth mile, and the two ran together therest of the way.

"The Win" getting it done.

A tough course

"EK" and "The Win" running the sixth and final mile of the race. They're looking pretty good for two guys who claimed to feel horrible.

In the final quarter mile, the boys burst into a sprint forthe finish, with “Win” pulling away to best “EK” and I by just a fewseconds. We had finished in an hourand twenty eight minutes, beating our goal time by just over a minute andrunning faster than they ever had in training. As for “B.SteaLth”? This brotheroutran us all. He finished almost a fullfifteen minutes and fifty runners ahead of us! “SteaLth had had the most difficult start of all three runners,literally staggering through his first run. I’d noticed that he’d begun to develop the smooth gait of a real runnerduring our last few training runs, but this performance exceeded my wildestexpectations.

And yet, “SteaLth” had done no more or and no less than hispeers. All three had given their all,all had put in the work, and reaped the rewards. I asked them all how the race was, and theyall said it was “terrible.” But theysaid it with a touch of pride. Not thecocky trash-talk pride one often sees strutting about in the school yard, butthe quiet pride of having done something really hard and finished it.

“I feel like I really accomplished something,” “EK” declaredat the finish line, a finishers medal around his neck. And indeed he had. They all had, and I am so proud of them.

The boys and I at the finish line with Mrs. Lee, far left and Mrs Arthurs, center. Thanks for your support!

After the race the boys and I along with their families,Babs and the Feller, Mrs. Arthurs and the boys’ language arts teacher, Mrs. Leeand her son “Supremo” (who is a classmate of the three runners) all gathered atTim Hortons to celebrate the boys’ accomplishment.

The boys are all eager to run again. Now that they’ve hadthe unparalleled experience of true triumph they want more! Perhaps we’ll look for another race nextspring, maybe even try for a half marathon.

And come next fall, I’ll issue the Buckeye Challengeagain. I know “The Win”, “EK”, and“B.SteaLth” will be there and I have no doubt there will be more that willanswer the call to effort, discipline, and hard work and as result to experiencethe reward of race well-run.

"Let us run with endurance the race set out for us."

--Hebrews 12:2b

Band of Sisters

2011-11-12T13:25:00.001-08:00

In Saipan there was a unique sense of camaraderie among theteachers—particularly the short term ones—that I didn’t think I’d find here inAmerica. I chalked it up to being so farfrom family; to not only working but living, playing, and worshiping together; tothe shared experience of slogging it out in the trenches. Most everyone was a new teacher, alternatelythrilled and terrified, overwhelmed both by the enormity of the task of shapingyoung lives and the affection welling up in their hearts for those preciousstudents. Babs and I were thebattle-hardened veterans who’d seen it all and served to comfort, encourage,and instruct those in our charge. While the sacrifices those young volunteersmade often (but not always) paled in comparison to real soldiers, they werestill very much in a battle where lives were at stake. Like the “band of brothers” described inStephen Ambrose’s account of the soldiers of Easy Company in World War II (andin the outstanding HBO miniseries based on his book), the teachers in Saipanshared the unique experience of those who struggled together in the thick ofthe fight.

When I we returned to the States, I expected that sense ofkinship to be left behind on the front lines of the mission field. And indeed, at first it seemed to be as I hadexpected. Here in America the teachers’lives weren’t defined so much by their work at the school. We had families of our own, lives quitedivergent from the school, and we rarely crossed paths outside of CAA. Here most of the teachers were veterans intheir own right, and if anyone was the newbie on the team, at least that firstyear, it was me. It seemed to me thateach of us was in our own world, occasionally hailing to one another a briefword of encouragement during staff worship or while passing in thehallways. Like ships in the night, weshared the same space, but were essentially alone.

But this year, something has shifted. What I thought was reserved for the missionfield has blossomed right here—a sense of camaraderie and closeness, and therewards of a shared struggle. Onceagain, I have sisters in the fight (sisters because, as in Saipan, my fellowcolleagues are entirely women; for those that assume such fellowship belongsonly to men, I can attest that a man can find solidarity among sisters as wellas brothers). We’ve talked about itsome, and we all sense this new unity, though we can’t put our finger on exactlywhat brought it about.

As I reflect I see a couple of things that might have broughtus together in a special way this school year. First the enrollment at CAA has skyrocketed, and with the blessings comethe challenges of increase. And as thechallenges have increased, so has our individual and corporate sense of need forthe grace of God to meet these challenges. We are all praying more, and sharing our struggles with one another andlifting each other up in prayer. Lately,morning staff worship has become a lifeline. On the days that I miss worship, I always feel the weaker for it. For a little more or less than ten minutes wehave church in that circle. The spiritualinsights shared, the words of encouragement, the Spirit-soaked prayers, andjust that sense that we’re not alone, that we’re in this with each other andwith God serves as a morning pick-me better than any cup of coffee and fuelthat keeps me going throughout the day. Despites the recalcitrant students and the jam-packed schedule thesemoments of morning watch together remind me that God is on the move in ourschool, moving in us and through us to reach our students with His love.

Another thing that has bound us together this year is ourdecision to start gathering on a regular basis outside of the schoolsetting. On the first Sabbath of eachmonth we gather with our families at one of our homes for Sabbath lunch and anafternoon of relaxed conversation and time together. Sure, we end up talking about the school 90%of the time, but it’s an agenda free gathering marked by lots of laughter andabsence of workweek pressure. We’ve onlyhad two such get-togethers so far (we’ll be hosting the December gathering),but they’ve become a highlight of the month for me already.

It’s a nice feeling to once againbe in the company of sisters; to sense that someone has your back. I know that I can depend on my sisters to letone of my students sit in her classroom when a kid needs to not be in my roomfor a while. I can count on them for awise word of counsel and an “I’ll pray for you” that I know is not merely acourteous expression but a promise that whatever burden I bear she’ll help mecarry before the Lord. I know that theywill be patient and flexible, always willing to make changes to accommodate thecrazy classroom contingencies that are forever popping up. I know that they’ll understand what I’mdealing with, what I’m rejoicing in, what I’m anxious about, because they aregoing through the same things I am.

This week when I jump back intothe fray come Monday morning, I know I won’t be going into battle alone. I’ll have Ms. Minisee, Mrs. Gray, Ms. Thomas,Mrs. Lavlas, Mrs. Lee, and our big-hearted, passionate leader Mrs. Arthursright there in the thick of things with me. In the heat of the struggle to liberate my students, to help them live, learn,love and grow, I know my band of sisters will be right by my side.

The Women Warriors I Work With: From L to R: Janelle Thomas, the newest member of our troop. She was hired after the start of the school year to teach second grade after Ms. Minisee's 1/2 classroom was split due to its size. She has a sweet spirit and so far seems to be holding her own quite well in her first year at CAA.

Brenda Arthurs is our principal. What inspires me the most about her is her passion for our kids--you should hear her talk to the students, even when she's delivering a stern reprimand there is so much love in her voice.

Renee Lee is the 5th/6th grade teacher. She and I work most closely together since we teach each other's classes for part of every day. She is so patient and I couldn't ask for a better team-mate.

Next, the man in the middle; that's me--the "token male" on the team yet again!

Wayna Gray our third and fourth grade teacher is longest serving teacher at CAA. Wayna is a straight shooter, passionate about her God, her family, and her work and determined to keep it in that order. Her words in due season are regular source of encouragement to me.

Alyssa Minisee teaches 1st grade. She replaced me last year as the newest and youngest member of the team. She always appear calm, cool and collected (even when she's not). Fairly often we help each other out with disciplinary situations by letting each other's students take a time out in one another's classrooms.

Not pictured is Lisa Lavalas, our kindergarten teacher. She always has an encouraging word to say, and from my very first year at CAA I always felt she was someone I could talk to. She excels in the classrom despite challenges that would have felled a lesser teacher.

“Be devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to oneanother in honor; not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, servingthe Lord; rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer. . ..Bear one another’s burdens and thus fulfill the Law of Christ. . .Therefore encourageone another, and build up one another, just as you are also doing.”

----Romans 12: 10-12, Galatians 6:2, 1 Thessalonians 5:11.

Late

2011-11-04T18:23:00.000-07:00

It's 10:12 P.M.

I was supposed to have been done blogging by 9:00 P.M. and been asleep bythis time.

Undoubtedly it will be 11 by the time I go to bed, if not later (and that'sassuming that I decide not to finish this blog tonight) and as a result I willlikely wake up later than I had originally planned tomorrow, still exhausted,and likely be late for Sabbath School as well.

This is my life. Forever behind, forever rushing to catch up and foreverfailing to do so. I live in a perpetual state of tardiness. Whether it's workor leisure, bedtime or time to get up, paying the bills, getting to the bank,making a flight, arriving at the movies, or finishing chores, I am late.

I do not enjoy this. In fact, I can't stand it. Yet no matter what I try todo, I can't seem to beat it. One late arrival invariably leads to a string offurther tardy appearances that can literally stretch on for days.

Perhaps part of the problem is that I haven't been bored since 1994. My lifeis full to overflowing. Which is a blessing, I know. But most of the time,there is so much to do that I can't keep up. Against my better judgment Iconstantly double and triple book myself, foolishly hoping that I'll finally beable to get it all done. I also tend to believe that I can do more than I canin a certain space of time, despite all evidence to the contrary (for example,believing that I could compose and post not one but three new entries in thespace of an hour to hour and a half). Another issue is that I rarely haveleisure time, and so will often take it when I shouldn't, just because I can'tbear the thought of going straight from 16 hours of work to eight hours of sleep.

Something needs to change. I don't know what. I'm not sure how to go aboutit. I'd reflect on it more now, but as it stands, I've got to run. Yep, youguessed it. . .

I'm late.

I began this post two weeks ago.

I added a lengthy example last weekend of how five minutes late here and tenminutes late there can snowball into an avalanche of lateness that can alterthe trajectory not just an entire day, but an entire week. I apparently never saved that additionbecause when I opened up the file this evening all I had was the material fromtwo weeks ago. I just don’t have theenergy to rewrite that rather disheartening vignette. And besides to do so, would send me to bedlate yet again and I really am trying to break the cycle of tardiness in mylife.

This week past week has been better, though not yet ideal. I actually made it to work on time for thepast two days running. I’ve been risingearlier (though not necessarily going to bed as early as I’d like). I’m learning a few keys to moving fromrunning late to being right on time. I’vedetermined not to do any work after 8:00 P.M. in the evening, even if it meansleaving crucial things undone. Thisreduces the likelihood of me staying up late just to be able to feel like Iunwound before bedtime. I’m also makingit a point to never get up later than 6:00 A.M., regardless of how late I go tobed. This decision is helping with anotherkey to timeliness—seeking God first. I’vebeen able to have more regular devotions this week and having begun with my daywith God gives me an added sense of peace throughout the day. As part of the devotional time I’m making apractice of asking God to “order my day” and help me do the things that reallymatter, and not stress over the rest.

I’m not there yet, but in the struggle to get a handle on this hectic lifehere in America, I know I’ll get there, sooner or. . .later.

"Teach us to number our days, that we may present to Thee a heart of wisdom"
--Psalm 90:12

How I Met Mat's Muse (Almost)

2011-10-21T18:47:00.000-07:00

Mat Kearney and his band rock the house at Bogarts in Cincinnati, Ohio, Saturday night, September 24, 2011. Sadly, this was my best photo of the night. I really need a better camera.

Ah, how I would have loved to change the title of this post by one word. How I would have liked to have one decent photo from the Mat Kearney concert Babs and I attended in Cincinnati last weekend--perhaps even a picture of the star of the show. It would have made a nice bookend to our last Mat Kearney show in the summer of 2010.

But to paraphrase that famous line from Top Gun: "I had the shot, there was no danger, so I. . .let it pass."

Babs and I had a fantastic time Saturday night, September 24, 2011 at the Mat Kearney show at Bogarts in Babs' hometown. We ate at Honey, a great new restuarant in Cincinnati's Northside neighborhood, enjoyed some great conversation that didn't involve being interrupted by our Little Feller while waiting for the show to start, and were treated to an outstanding performance by our favorite artist. Nonetheless, the evening came to be defined--at least for me--by a great opportuinity that I let slip away: the chance to say hi to the muse behind Mat's most recent work--his wife Annie.

Mat Kearney's latest album entitled Young Love is a triumph of pop songwriting both in terms of its sound--infectious hooks, memorable melodies, and lots of catchy beats--and it's lyrical content. Mat brings his gift for thoughtful, spiritually influenced songwriting to bear on pop music's most popular subject matter--romantic love.  His lyrics provide fresh perspective and a surprising amount of depth to the thrill we've all felt when love is brand new. The sentiments have been expressed in a millions songs: "you can count on me", "I'm gonna win your heart", "I love you" but Mat makes those often trite ideas new and exciting again in just the way that a new love can feel like the first and only love there ever was in the world.

As with most songwriters one can never be sure how much of song is inspired by real events and how much is poetic license. Still I get the sense that Mat is exuberantly telling his own stories in these songs.    For those of us who have been longtime fans, we feel like we've been on the journey with him. We were there when the songs were more brooding and introspective--a single man out in the world with Nothing Left to Lose. We got hints that someone serious was in his life in songs like "New York to California" and "Annie" on his second major label release City of Black and White, and then joined him in euphoric joy as he reflected on the meeting and ultimate marrying of the woman of his dreams in Young Love.  As a result Annie looms larger than life in his recent work. We hear details of how they first met in the album's bouncy first single "Hey Mama", get snippets of further early encounters as Mat makes it his mission to win her over in "She Got the Honey", and a wedding photo of Mat in his brown bow tie and Annie in her gypsy necklace in "Young, Dumb, and in Love." Lest we forget that young love has its challenges as it matures, we also get "Ships in the Night", a song that deals with those fights that come up between young newlyweds as the honeymoon is wearing off.

With a setlist heavy on the Young Love material, that Saturday night in Cincinnati you could hear Mat's wife everywhere even though she was nowhere to be seen. Here's my review of the concert and a list of the songs from the Bogart's show with links to videos on youtube when available.

The Review

The evening opened with Leagues, a new band that played a generous eight songs in the opening set. Eight is a lot for an opening band, but fortunately Leagues earned the goodwill of the audience with catchy pop rock tunes (the early songs especiaqlly were quite good) a tight band, and a lead singer  with a decent pipes, an appropriately self-depracating manner and the disarming physique of a thirty-something teddy bear. Thad Cockerell's unself-conscious performance and obvious love for the music made for a great start to the night.

Mat opens the show with "Count on Me." This video was from another show on this tour at the Music Farm in Charleston, South Carolina.

Mat's show couldn't have been more different from the one we saw last summer (Read my review of that concert here). Last summer the show was quiet and intimate--just Mat, his right-hand man Tyler Burkum, a couple of guitars, and a keyboard. This time the show was loud--more rock n' roll than folksinger--with Mat backed by a full band. Tyler was still there, though I didn't recognize him (it seemed like he had a different haircut and may have lost some weight?). Last summer's show at the Alban Mat was virtually unknown to his audience, this year the joint was packed with fans who sang along to every song, new and old, fervently. It reminded me a lot of the Mumford and Sons' show I saw last year with Mat and the band similiarly awed by the enthusiastic feedback from the crowd. Highlights from the night included Mat's performance of "Chicago", an old favorite containing some Cincinnati references that got a big response from the crowd.  Another big moment was when Mat climbed up on the barrier between the audience on the stage during "Runaway Car", and then impulsively decided to jump down among us and take a little walkabout among the fans while he sang. The crowd was quite enthused about this bit of daredeviltry, and we caught a couple of glimpses of him as he came within a few feet us, lit up by camera lights and being grasped at by hundreds of hands. I honestly was a little worried for his safety at the hands of overwraught fans but I figured as long as he was still singing, he must be okay. Eventually he emerged from the crowd and climbed back on stage to finish the song, declaring at the end that the experience was both awesome and frightening.

The impromptu rhyming in "Undeniable" was a crowd pleaser as well, and during the encore the opening band Leagues, joined Mat onstage for a cover of Foster the People's "Pumped Up Kicks." Mat closed the show with the lead single from Young Love, "Hey Mama" and left the crowd shouting for "one more song" even after the house lights had gone up.

Here's a video that I picked up from the web by one of the other concertgoers at the Bogart's performance, Saturday night, September 24, 2011. My videos were again plagued by sound issues that make them completely unlistenable. This is "Hey Mama" the first single of Mat's new album and the final song of the evening.

It was a fantastic evening. My only quibble, a very minor one, was not getting to hear my favorite song from the new album, "Learning to Love Again." Along with "Rochester" it was one of only two songs from the new record that didn't get played. And given the up-tempo mood of this show, and the quiet, acoustic tenor of those two songs, I understand the omission. I can't wait to see the show again in Chicago in November with my best friend who was responsible for introducing me to Mat's music. It will be his first Mat Kearney show and I know he won't be disappointed.

The Set List

1. Count on Me
2. Young, Dumb, and In Love
3. Fire and Rain
4. Down
5. Breathe In, Breathe Out
6. Closer to Love
7. Sooner or Later
8. Chicago
9. Chasing the Light
10. Here We Go Again
11. Runaway Car
12. She Got the Honey (this is a live version from the current tour)
13. All I Need
14. Undeniable
15. Nothing Left to Lose

Encore

16. Ships in the Night
17. Pumped Up Kicks
18. Hey Mama

When the show ended, we headed for the door, looking for the merchandise table where I could do my part to keep the Kearney show on the road and in the recording studio. We somehow missed it and suddenly found ourselves out on the street. We asked a security person nearby where the merch table was and she told us that it was inside, but regrettfully she could not let us back in.

I was ready to give up and head for home, but Babs insisted that we should go back to where we entered and see if those security guys would let us in. She finally talked me into it, and sure enough they let us right back in.

So we're waiting by the merchandise table while they went in the back to get a t-shirt in my size, when Barbara grabs me by the arm and nods towards a petite dark-haired woman with a vaguely bohemian air and one of those backstage VIP badges around her neck. She was standing apart from the crowd, alone, as if maybe waiting for someone. "Isn't that Mat Kearney's wife?" my wife whispered. I looked hard, while at the same time trying to avoid appearing to stare. "I don't know. . ." I replied. The only pictures I'd seen of Annie were photos of her and Mat's wedding that I come across on the web, and I just wasn't sure. "Maybe. . ."

"You should ask her," Babs prodded. But I was hesitant. I'm the kind of person who never wants to be a bother. I won't ask the waiter to fix my dish if they bring it out wrong, I rarely ask to "speak to the manager." And I feel rude and intrusive approaching famous people (or almost-famous people and most certainly the spouses of famous people). I worried about feeling embarrassed if she wasn't who we thought she was. I worried about looking "uncool" and vaguely creepy if she was. I worried, and dithered and vacilated while my wife continued to give me whispred updates as to where she was in our vicinity. At one point she was standing right next to us, and I finally decided, "Fine, I'm gonna do it. Worst case she tells us to leave her alone, best case we get to meet Mat's muse and maybe even get a picture. How cool would that be? A picture with Mat at the first concert, a picture with his wife at the next. . .yeah, I'm gonna do it. Right. . . now." But when I turned to ask, "Excuse me are you Mat Kearney's wife?" she was walking purposefully away towards the stage area. The moment had passed, the opportunity had been missed.

Babs, as perceptive as ever saw the whole thing in my face. "You were about to ask her, weren't you? I can't believe she walked away right when you were about to say something!" Later that night back at her parents house in Dayton, we googled up those wedding pictures and confirmed Barbara's hunch. The woman we had seen was indeed Annie Kearney.

Babs didn't seemed too bothered by it, but it bothered me for awhile. I wasn't disappointed so much by the missed opportunity itself, but by my own hesitation. In a way, it made me decide that I've spent too much of my life holding back, being hesitant when it wouldn't hurt to be bold. For someone who likes to talk as much as I do and who is as opinionated as I am, I have been, on occasion, surprisingly shy to speak up. There was no moral imperative here, obviously, but I felt that I let a unique little opportunity slide by and I realized that perhaps I've done that a lot with things that matter more in my life. They say you should sieze the day, but instead I've often been one to let the day go by, worried about what someone might think.

The missed opportunity to meet the muse behind Mat's music made me decide that in the future, I will be more fearless, that I will hesitate less, that I will take more risks, and worry less about how I look to others or what they might think.

Babs and Me, still young (basically) and in love.

It Might Get Loud

2011-09-24T11:26:00.000-07:00

Publicity photo for Committed, the vocal group that won NBC's The Sing Off last year and whose new record is in stores now. My students made a lot of noise for them when we saw them at mini-concert recently--that noise is the subject of this entry

Stereotypes are funny things (or, sometimes not).

We tend to think of them as patently false, but honestly a lot of time that's not the case. Many times there is an elment of truth that creates the stereotype and gives it staying power.

We tend to reject negative stereotypes about our gender, ethncity, culture and so on. But more often than not we're only too happy to welcome postive stereotypes.

Stereotypes are tricky. What makes them so is that even when they have an elment of truth, they never apply universally to the group in question. There are always exceptions. And this is what makes stereotypes dangerous--they lead us to make judgements about people before we know them; they lead us to think we know a woman or a man, a black, white or Asian person, gay or straight, when we really don't.

But this blog is not about exceptions to stereotypes. This blog is about one particular stereotype that happened to hold true on one particular morning in the auditorium of a wealthy, predominantly white high school in New Albany, Ohio.

The stereotype is this: Black people are loud. We talk loud, sing loud, laugh loud (occasionally accompanied by falling out of our chairs in hilarity), shout loud, pray loud. Black folks at the dinner table, in a group coming down the street, at the movie theater, at church (thank the Lord, at least when you've got a toddler who's plenty loud himself--must be his dad's side. . .), and in this case the aforementioned auditorium. If black folks are around, prepare yourself. It might get loud.

Here's the story: On Friday, September 16 grades 5-8 at Columbus Adventist Academy had the unique opportunity to see a mini-concert and Q&A session by Committed a hot new vocal group that won The Sing-Off, an American Idolesque talent competiton that aired on NBC this past December. Our school felt a special tie to the group. Committed's members have Seventh-day Adventist roots. They met in high school at Forest Lake Academy, the same school I graduated from, and all attended Oakwood University, the Adventist church's Historically Black college in North America. Several of my colleagues have personal connections to the group as well, so while we didn't know them personally, we felt a personal connection. That sense of connection may have actually had as much to do with what happened that morning as anything else.

A somewhat blurry photo that I took of Committed performing at the McCoy Community Arts Center in New Albany, OH

Committed had done a full concert the night before in downtown Columbus, but had put aside a little time before their next gig to meet with students at the McCoy Community Arts Center on the campus of New Albany High School (just around the corner from where we live, incidentally).   The auditorium was at capacity and we felt lucky to be one of the schools able to get a seat for this special event.  We arrived just before the program began, and I noted almost unconsciously that we were the only predominantly black school in attendance; a fact that surprised me given that Committed are black.

Here's Committed performing on NBC's The Sing-Off

Though we were small, we defnitely made ourselves known. My kids were enthused, grooving joyfully to each tune by the group, and cheering enthusiastically at the end of each number. When Committed called on us to cheer, we cheered. When they asked for an "Oh Yeah!" we gave one back with vigor! The rest of the audience was quite sedate by comparison, clapping politely after each number and sitting virtually stock still through the group's rhythmic virtuosity. CAA alone, and a trio of my girls in particular, stood out in their loud approval of Committed's outstanding show. There were a few a moments when I wondered if I should tell them to tone it down a little--after all, when in Rome, do as the Romans right?  But to tell the truth, I didn't have an issue with anything they were doing. They weren't being rude or disruptive. They weren't shouting out song lyrics, they weren't standing up, blocking the view of others, just swaying in their seats. They cheered when it was time to cheer and were quiet when it was time to be quiet. The only "wrong" thing they were doing was doing what the rest of the audience was doing--only a lot more enthusiastically. And a lot louder.

(Full disclosure: when they name-checked Orlando and Forest Lake Academy I gave a lone whoop myself, and when they gave a shout-out to us their Adventist brothers and sisters at CAA at the end, we all went a little crazy for about 20 seconds)

In truth, I was kind of glad my kids were showing some enthusiasm. As a performer myself I know what it is to try to rouse a "dead" audience. It's no fun performing for an audience that seems to be made of stone. And as I watched the members of Committed trying pump up the audience and not getting much of a response (except from us), I felt bad for them and I was actually grateful someone was making some noise. I felt that it wasn't the ebullient CAA kids that were "wrong", but everyone else.

But not everyone agreed. As the students filed out at the end of the program one of the high-schoolers called out "Go back to your own school." One of the trio of especially energetic girls reported that she'd received nasty stares and had been told by another student to "shut the f*** up."

When we got back to school, we talked about what happened at the program during our weekly "Tribal Council" (I'm doing a Survivor theme in my class this year). We weighed the appropriateness of our actions, talked about when is the time to fit in, and when is the time to stand out. We talked about race and about stereotypes. Most of my students declared themselves black, loud and proud. But I pointed out that not every black person is loud (indeed, when I polled the other two teachers with us on the trip, one felt like me that the students weren't out of line, and the other felt that they'd over done it--"but then, I'm not a loud person myself" she explained. And she is not. Though she is black).   I reminded the students to consider the line between being enthusiastic and being obnoxious. We pondered that as Christians, we need to consider those around us and not just our own preferences.   But on the whole, I remained convinced that we had been considerate--of the performers, who I hope appreciated our support, even if that bothered some people around us.

I'm still not a 100% sure, but at least for now, I'm okay with how my students behaved. And I'm 100% certain that I'm proud of how they responded when people acted ugly towards them.   Rather than fulfilling another much less pleasant stereotype--cursing back, jumping over a chair and going after the one who insulted them--they let it go. When they might have gotten loud, and felt justified in doing so, they ignored the insults and went merrily on their way. When things might have gotten nasty, their actions spoke louder than their voices.

Run Together

2011-09-17T12:34:00.000-07:00

Erwin Capilitan and I at the finish line of the Emerald City Half Marathon in Dublin, Ohio, on Sunday, September 4, 2011. There is a great official photo of us high-fiving one another as we cross the finish line, which would have been perfect for this blog, but at $30 for the digital copy, I decided to pass.

For most of my races, the rule has been train together, run alone.

In the earliest days, one of the great attractions to running while I learned to love the run itself, was the fellowship of Vince, Monica, Tin Tin, and sometimes JohnMo. But when it came time to run our first 10K, Vince was far ahead, and I was on my own.

I shared a tight bond of friendship with the FourRunners--a bond forged on the road, on early morning runs around the short loop and the long one--but when it came time to challenge Suicide Cliff or do the Thanksgiving morning Turkey Trot, we spread out and made the journey alone.

Ken Pierson and I trained for months together, and got to know each other much better on those arduous training runs for the San Francisco Marathon. But when it came time to churn out those 26.2 miles Ken started in one wave, and I started in another. I went through that crucible of pain alone, and only saw Ken at the finish line.

And more recently, Erwin Capilitan and I continued the same pattern at the Panerathon last August and the Buckeye Classic 10K too--train together, run alone.

My first glimpse of a different way to run came with the Disney Princess Half Marathon that I ran with my cousin Yvette and her friend Carrie Oetman. For the first time I completed an entire race running in step with others. It was a nice feeling. Of course, we hadn't trained together, and I essentially dialed back my own pace considerably to match theirs, but I found I enjoyed the camraderie of running the race together. I began to realize that perhaps I'd missed out on something in my solitary running endeavors of the past. My runs had always been a bit self-centered with a notable competitive streak. In some cases I'd been physically outmatched by my training partner, at other times, I was the stronger runner. In the former situation, I'd been unable to keep pace in the actual run, and in the latter, I'd been unwilling. My unspoken attitude was, don't let me hold you back, but I won't be waiting around for you either. But after the Disney run, I decided to try a different approach.  I determined that in my next race, I'd run with my partner the whole way through.

So Erwin and I trained through the summer for the Emerald City Half-Marathon scheduled for Sunday, September 4, 2011 in the Columbus suburb of Dublin, Ohio. Our training was spotty; both of us traveled quite a bit, and missed a good many of our runs especially the crucial long runs. Three weeks out from race day, we had done one serious long run--seven miles a few weeks prior--and the most recent run had been a mere four miles. That Sunday morning we completed 8 miles. The following weekend, we ran seperately as I was out of town, and I did six miles while Erwin banged out a remarkable 12 miles. The weekend prior to the race, we ran 12 miles together at Blacklick Park and at that point we were ready as were ever going to be.

The Sunday morning of Labor Day weekend dawned cool and rainy. There had been thunderstorms throughout the night, and the possiblity of more threatened to postpone the start time. But the storm cells skirted Dublin and we began our race on time at 7:00 A.M. beneath glowering clouds spitting rain.

It turned out to be the perfect day for a run. The rain stayed at bay, but the partial cloud cover throughout the morning kept things cool and comfortable. Erwin and I started out on our goal pace of 11 minutes a mile (a goal that had been modified a number of times; our inconsistent training made our original goal of finishing in under two hours unrealistic). We dropped below it briefly around mile two or three and then something strange started happening. We started increasing our pace. I kept warning Erwin that we'd need to slow it down or we'd run out of steam at the end, but for some reason, as each mile passed we only kept running faster.   Throughout the race we'd been using a system of running for ten or so minutes, walking for one minute, then running again for another ten. With this system, we'd been just behind the 2:20 pace group--almost catching them on the runs and then falling farther behind when we walked. But around the seventh mile, we caught up with the pace group, passed them and never saw them again, even when we walked.

I felt really good throughout the run, and though I think the run was harder on Erwin, he gave no hint of it during the race. He did some strong work that morning, and it felt really good to be able to encourage him to keep giving it his all. The encouragement went both ways too--a big part of the reason the race was easier for me was his companionship. Having someone to talk to, trade jokes with, helped the miles fly by. In many ways, this 13.1 miles felt like one of the shortest races I've run.

By the time we entered the home stretch, we were well ahead of our projected pace and had destroyed our previous times. In the final half mile, I faced the old temptation once again. A pair of runners--an older man and a younger woman--a father and daughter perhaps---that we'd been trading leads with for much of the race caught up with us. We'd passed them quite some time ago, and as our pace continued to increase, I was pretty sure that we wouldn't see them again. But apparently, they'd been holding back for a big push at the end. They cruised past us, not looking like they were trying too hard, yet eating up the distance anyway. The old competitive streak arose--I knew if we burned it out, we could catch them and pass them for sure. "You want to pick it up," I asked Erwin nonchalantly, not revealing my real motivations for a final big push. "No, it's okay. You can go ahead," Erwin replied, gracious as always. "No," I replied, determined, as I watched the pair of runners shrink in the distance, "We ran the race together, we'll finish together."

And so we did. 2 hours and 16 minutes, a pace of under ten and a half minutes per mile. We had run the distance faster than we ever had before, and we had done it together.

I think there is a place for running alone, competing against yourself, and pushing yourself to your personal best. I'm sure there will be future races were I once again do that. But I have also found that there is great joy and remarkable success in challenging and encouraging a friend, pushing one another to the best we can do together.  Shoot, these days I'm beginning to think I might even consider running another marathon--as long as I'm not doing it alone!

"Two are better than one because they have a good return for their labor. For if either of them falls, the one will lift up his companion. But woe to the one who falls when there is not another to lift him up."

--Ecclesiastes 4:9-10

Remembering

2011-09-11T18:20:00.001-07:00

And if there ever is gonna be healing
There has to be remembering

--Sinead O'Connor

The Fifth Annual Inspirations List: 2011

2011-08-15T19:39:00.000-07:00

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.

Philippians 23: 3,4

As I was jotting down some notes in my pen-and-paper journal in preparation for the fifth annual Inspirations List, I noticed this passage of scripture printed in the margins of my journal and I realized that it described the five women on my list perfectly.

My slate of heroes this year all share in common an unselfish humility, and they made their mark on my life through their remarkable attention to the needs and concerns of others. I'm sure they have their selfish moments like anyone, but I saw them at their finest--giving and caring when it didn't come easy.

One hero, Keisha Paez, has the distinction of becoming only the second person to have made this list twice. Another, Faith Grant is notable as the first person to make the list whose heroic act did not take place in the last year. Bunnie is a colleague, "The Rose" a former student, and Carrie, I only met once. All have inspired me by doing good when it could not have been easy.

The List:

Bunnie James-Mason
"The Rose"
Keisha Paez
Carrie Oetman
Faith Grant

Bunnie James-Mason

I’m inspired by her sacrificial service

Bunnie makes us all look

good. She works tirelessly behind the scenes to make sure that everything at CAA runs smoothly, and in the process she makes us all shine a little brighter. I’m able to teach an exciting social studies lesson because of the prep time I had during lunch while Bunnie was watching my kids in the cafeteria. Mrs. Arthurs, the principal, is able to attend an important meeting that results in more funding for our school because Bunnie was covering bus supervision. The 8^th grade students were able to boast record profits for their class due to her quiet and faithful help and support. It’s not just that Bunnie works hard. It’s not that she works long hours. It’s not even that what she does is often taken for granted by us teachers¸ so wrapped up are we in our classrooms. It’s that she does all this—endless round of duties, the full workweek and often Sundays too, the thankless tasks like lunchroom supervision—for others. We teachers are the vehicle that carries our students forward, and if the principal is the driver, the board and education superintendent the navigator, then Bunnie is the engine. Though her work often goes unseen, without her none of us would get very far.

Bunnie, you’ve always held the spotlight for us. Allow me to shine a little of that light back on you. Thank you for all you do.

"The Rose"

I’m inspired by her compassionate helpfulness

She’s one of those young women who always takes care of her business. This past year, her last at CAA, she often talked more than she should, but always managed to stay out of serious trouble. She wasn’t always “on-task” but her work was always done on time. "The Rose" did not suffer fools gladly nor tolerate foolishness from her peers. Yes, "The Rose" was careful never to make a show of it, but she always made sure she did what needed to be done. And yet, "The Rose" didn’t look out only for her own interests, but also for the interests of others. Many times over the course of the year I watched her pull up a chair next to a struggling classmate to help him or her through some tough math problems. I saw her volunteer to partner up with a peer she knew would need extra help. For all her no-nonsense demeanor I saw "The Rose" demonstrate real compassion to those around her without expectation of recognition or reward. Indeed I think the last thing she wanted was reward (and I’m hoping she’ll at least tolerate the recognition I’m giving her!) You see "The Rose" was simply taking care of her business—it just happened that she made it her business to help those in need.

Keisha Paez
I’m inspired by her courageous honesty

Not many people have the courage to recognize that it’s more important to tell the truth than to look honest. But then Keisha has never been like many people. Keisha has graced this list before—she was one of my first heroes in my inaugural Inspirations list five years ago, and she’s back demonstrating that her remarkable courage has a moral as well as physical dimension. During the final weeks of her Officer Training School for the United States Marine Corps, Keisha got caught up in an incident that placed her in tough position. She could tell the truth and risk her reputation and possibly her place in the Corps, or she could lie and slide by looking honorable. Keisha chose to tell the truth, and faced the consequences—the end of her dream of being one of the few and the proud. It took guts and honor to make a decision like that—just the characteristics any good Marine should have. Perhaps that’s why the Corp considered her appeal of the decision and allowed her to re-enlist and go through training all over again. As I write this, Keisha is finishing up her officer training for the second time and if you ask me she’ll make an outstanding Marine. After all, Keisha personifies the Marine Corps’ motto: Semper Fi—Always Faithful.

Carrie Oetman
I'm inspired by her selflessness

It's easy to lend a hand from a positon of strength. When our wallets are full, our health good, when we're in a good mood, when we've had a decent night's sleep, it doesn't take much to be magnanimous and pass on the overflow of our good humor to those around us. But it takes a rare person to give to other when you're already giving what feels like 100% just to put one foot in front of the other. Carrie Oetman is one of those rare people, and I was privileged to witness her selfless spirit during the 2011 Disney Princess Half Marathon this past Februrary.

I met Carrie through my cousin Yvette, and I ran with both women the entire length of the half-marathon. Throughout the run I was awestruck by the many little ways that Carrie looked outside herself even while pushing herself farther physically than she'd ever thought possible. She did not allow her personal struggle to eclipse the needs of those around her, and instead put her pain on hold to a lend a hand. What made her completion of the race that day heroic was not merely what she overcame, but what she offered to those along the way. The next time I'm tempted to grow weary in well-doing, I'll think of Carrie, and well, carry on!

Faith Grant
I'm inspired by her generous spirit

How much does it cost to change the course of someone's life? In the case of my high school chum Faith it cost her $400 and her expenditure changed the course of my entire life. It's been more than 15 years since she drummed up those funds to donate towards my effort to raise money to go as a student missionary. Faith, though she was only a high school student at the time, was the single largest donor to my campaign and without her gift I would have not raised enough money to go teach fifth grade for a year on the little island of Chuuk. If I had not gone to Chuuk, I would never have met my wife. I would not have become a teacher. I would never have visited or likely even heard of Saipan. Without that watershed year my life, my very self would be completely unrecognizable. To this day, I have no idea how Faith did it--whether she passed the hat around, tapped a rich relative, or simply emptied her savings account. I was perhaps more amazed by her willingness to give as I was by her ability.

I've always given credit to God for leading me that life-changing year in Chuuk, and this is right. But I've come to recognize that He--as He often does--used one of His beloved children to get me there. In light of that, there's no question that Faith should have been on my original list of the 65 Influential People in My Life, but I'm happy to remedy that now.

It's been years since I've spoken to Faith. I see her on Facebook and every now and again we exchange messages. I remember during the Haiti earthquake she was working to raise funds to get the daughter of a friend out of Haiti. I donated of course--how could I not? I was touched to see that Faith is still changing lives one dollar--or four hundred--at a time.

The Books to Read List

2011-08-03T12:36:00.000-07:00

I'm finally shutting down my Maycock Media Mix blog. I haven't used it in years and to be honest, I don't think I'll ever get back to it. This entry marks the first of occasional entries that would have previously gone in that blog.

One of the highlights of the summer is being able to do a little more leisure reading. Most years I have had pretty good luck and discovered a really great slate of books. This year though, my luck ran out. Normally, I just scan the display shelves at the library and pick up a few titles that sound interesting based on the blurb on the book jacket. I used the same mehtod this summer, and found the results lackluster.

I read This Vacant Paradise by Victoria Patterson which was ho-hum and Model Home by Eric Puchner which was well-written but rather dispiriting. Gone, Tomorrow by P.F. Kluge was better, though I found the ending unsatisfying. Perhaps I was expecting a major twist that never really came. I then started in on Sing Them Home by Stephanie Kallos and gave up after one chapter. It wasn't uninteresting, but one of the conceits of the book was that the dead hang out at the cemetery, do arcane experiments, observe the living and perhaps other things that I didn't discover before I gave up on the book. Theology wasn't the issue--I don't believe in spirits of the dead and such but I'm more than willing to suspend disbelief as I did for the excellent The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. For me the device of these quirky spirits of the dead felt overly cute. Even the living characters struck me as a tad too eccentric to be really relatable. Worse than that, the book failed to grab my interest early on. I didn't have the patience to stick with it.

I scanned a few of the pages of C.J. Sansom's Winter in Madrid and abandoned it as well.

I've decided that as busy I am--even in the summer--I can't afford a trial and error approach to my leisure reading. I need to be reasonably certain that the book I'm going to read is going to be very good before I start reading. A book that was 'alright' just isn't good enough anymore.

What I've found is that I'll come across a book review in TIME magazine that sounds good or
someone will recommend a title to me, but then when it comes time to find a book to read, I've forgotten those titles. So what I'm going to do is start a public list here on this blog of the books I'd like to read. Once I've read the book, I'll link back to this post and edit it to include a short review.

I'd like to invite my readers to suggest great books that they've read--fiction or non-fiction--that they think I'd enjoy. Just make your recommendations in the comments section and I'll consider adding it to my list. Also feel free to comment on the books I add to my list whether to warn me away from a title or to encourage my interest.
Books to Read

The Help by Kathryn Stockett
State of Wonder by Ann Patchett
War & Peace by Leo Tolstoy (I'm about 2/3 finished. I'm determined to finish)
Breaking the Skin by Lee Martin
The Autobiography of Tom Thumb: A Novel by Melanie Benjamin

Florida Family Vacation Photos

2011-08-02T16:57:00.000-07:00

The Maycock family portrait, 2011

Sabbath was about pictures. Late in the afternoon, we headed out to a small lakeside park in the tony neighborhood of Winter Park, FL to take our annual family photos. Dawn, the designated family photographer, decreed the year's color scheme, chose the location, and set up the shots. Some of the photos (and candids) from that session are posted here.

But my favorite pictures of the day, were the ones I painted in my imagination earlier that afternoon as I listened to the stories of my family. Uncle Roland and Aunt Colleen came over for lunch and during the meal and in the lazy hours after they regaled us with tales of adventures scuba diving, sailing, and traveling in Europe. We compared notes on island living and they recounted funny stories of their time in places as diverse as St. Croix and Oregon, Trinidad and Ohio.

One of life's great joys is to hear the stories of your family--to see the past through their eyes, to walk in their shoes, to have vague childhood memories fleshed out into rich, colorful detail, to see the things from years before you were born. And it's up to the younger members of the family to seek out these stories; most older family members may reticient to share if we don't ask, perhaps unsure of our interest. So, whenever I get the chance, I'm asking. Family photos are valuable, but there are photo albums that can only be seen with a listening heart, and these are priceless.

The Men

Muscles

My Generation

Mom and her brood.

Mom and Dawn

Corny + Classy

Check out more pictures of the family here. Also, look for the Florida Family Vacation at Disney on the Feller's blog. I realized that the trip really was all about him, so it would be more appropriate to post it there. It should be up in a few days.

Florida Family Vacation at the Beach

2011-07-31T15:54:00.000-07:00

It doesn't get any better than this. Anna Maria Island, Florida. July 21, 2011

I confess I've had very low expectations for the beach in America. I pictured the endless rows of high rises running along the Atlantic coast, people driving up and down the gray sands of Daytona and New Symrna Beach, the water nondescript in appearance and always too cold. I associated the east coast Florida beaches of my youth with the inchoate melancholy of that period--trips to the shore that were never as fun as I pretended with people that often weren't such great friends as I wished.

I'd spent much less time on the Gulf coast. We stopped by the beach a few times during high school trips to Tampa. J, Chris, Greg, and I were impressed with the Emerald Coast up on Florida's Panhandle during a road trip in my college years. When Babs and I were newly dating we spent a day with the Chris and Carissa Cotta at a beach in Clearwater. Those experiences were all quite nice, but compared to the fresher memories of the Marianas, I was sure they didn't measure up.

It was my son who corrected me, as we drove over the low bridge on to Anna Maria Island on Thursday, July 21, 2011:

"Daddy, this looks like Saipan!" he cried.

The view from our balcony at Anna Maria Island Inn

And indeed it did. For just about 24 marvelous hours our family soaked up the beach life at Anna Maria Island on Florida's Gulf Coast. Annual summer sojourns to Anna Maria were one of the family traditions Babs and I had missed out on while overseas. We returned to the States just as the tradition was falling into disrepair. Mom and Dawn had been determined to revive the Anna Maria beach week this summer, but they started planning too late and all the places that met their highly specific criteria were either already booked or out of their price range. By the time we arrived, the beach week plan had been reduced to a day trip. Indeed we didn't decide to spend the night until Wednesday, the day before we left, when Jim pointed out that a five hour round trip drive just to spend a few hours at the beach wouldn't be as much fun. Why not just find a cheap place--forget all the criteria--and spend one night, and then come back the next day. Mom, Dawn, and I got on the web and started looking.

Looking out from the front entrance to our unit. One of the great things about Anna Maria Island is the laid-back island feel. It's all two lane roads, locally-owned shops catering to vacationers, low-slung beach bungalows, vacation rentals, and unassuming luxury condos (my understanding is that they don't allow any high-rises on the island).

What we found was far more than we expected on such notice. We found a wonderful little beachside place with lots of character and a reasonable price. Anna Maria Island Inn had exactly two nights open, and both were on the days we could make the trip. What a blessing!

Looking back at the Anna Maria Island Inn from the water. Our unit is on the left on the seconf floor.

It was the perfect day at the beach. The pace was languid, the mood relaxed. I completely enjoyed playing in the ocean with my son, sharing in his wonder at the waves, his fascination with the sand, and his curiosity about the "blue sea" as he described it--the areas too deep even for me to wade with him in my arms. "Let's go to the blue sea!" he'd ask, pointing to the darker depths. After a couple of hours on the beach we were ready for a tasty lunch of sub sandwhiches and nice afternoon nap.

Mom, Dawn and "Baby J" frolic in the waves. See more photos of the kids at the beach at Elijah's blog.

While the Feller slept, I indulged in nice lazy afternoon like I hadn't had all summer--reading for a couple of hours out on the balcony-- migrating inside to the comfy living room couch when it got too hot.

The kitchen and dining area of our two bedroom apartment at the Anna Maria Island Inn. We found the Inn clean, comfortable, and quite attractive with modern and tasteful decor. It might have felt a bit cramped for a week-long stay for the seven of us (five adults and two toddlers), but for one night it was more than sufficient.

In the late afternoon, we hit the surf again, this time joined by Uncle Robert and my cousin, who I will call "T", and Jim and my nephew. It was a great father-son time, building rudimentary sandcastles, discovering the sealife-starfish, shells, and sand fleas--and playing with the floaties in the shallows. Again there was no rush--we played as long as we liked--and finally left the water when the sun was dipping towards the horizon.

Jim shows the kids a starfish he found in the shallows

Heading out towards the blue sea

As the sun set the Thomson, Maycock, and Brothers families gathered around a delicious haystack supper, feasting on the food and the fellowship.

Sunset on the Gulf

Dawn clowns around

Uncle Robert, Jim, and me dig in.

Cousin "T" and Mom enjoying dinner on the balcony

We all slept well that night and awoke early for one more visit to the beach, before packing up and heading back to Orlando.

Walking on the beach, Friday morning, July 22, 2011

We weren't ready to leave at all, and we knew that we were committed to a proper beach week at Anna Maria next summer. The family tradition is being revived and this time we'll get to be a part of it. Mom and Dawn have already begun researching vacation rentals that will accomodate us all comfortably next summer, and we'll get our reservation in early. What a surprise, I experienced the perfect beach vacation not in the tropical island paradises of Saipan or Hawaii, but right here in America on Anna Maria Island, Florida.

Florida Family Vacation

2011-07-30T15:03:00.000-07:00

Family Photo 2011 (Taken Sabbath, July 23, 2011)

This past week, from July 19 to July 27, our family had one of the best vacations we've ever experienced in quite a long time. It was an ideal mix of quiet, relaxed downtime and fun experiences made perfect because all were marked by precious quality time with family. Because of the variety of activities over the course the trip, the vacation felt much longer than seven days, yet because it was such a joyful time it seemed to end far too soon.

I had this silly notion that I would get all this work done during our visit, and at first I felt guilty over all I wasn't doing as our vacation unfolded. But then, I wised up and realized that this time of relaxed play with my son, long chats with my mom, dates with my wife, and conversation with my family was invaluable time that I dared not waste on work.

The Feller and his uncle Jim relaxing at mom's house. July 26, 2011

We began and ended our trip with unscheduled days. We ate delicious breakfasts at mom's house, played ping-pong in the sunroom, read and watched TV, napped, and socialized. On both days I hung out with my old high school friend Greg for a couple of hours as well. On Tuesday, July 26, our last full day in Florida, the extended family--Uncle Roland and Aunt Colleen, Uncle Robert & Aunt Diana and thier son, my youngest cousin, and my cousin Yvette came over for dinner. It was a great way to spend the first and last day of our visit--unhurried, relaxed, and restful--giving us time to rejuvante from and prepare for our travels.

Anna Maria Island, July 21, 2011

On Thursday, July 21, we packed up the car and drove down to Anna Maria island on Florida's gorgeous Gulf coast for some beach time. We spend the night at a wonderful little beachfront inn and returned to Orlando Friday morning. An upcoming entry entitled Florida Family Vacation at the Beach will detail this idyllic time.

The three most important women in my life: My wife, Babs; my mom, Rosalind; my sister, Dawn

On Sabbath, July 23, we went to church, and then had Uncle Roland and Aunt Colleen over for lunch. In the late afternoon, we dressed up and headed over to Azaela Park in Winter Park to take some family photos. I'll develop this story more and share some more of those pictures in Florida Family Vacation Photos.

Playing in the pool. Sunday, July 24, 2011

On Sunday, July 24, we celebrated my nephew's first birthday! His actual birthday was on the day we arrived in Florida, July 19, but Dawn and Jim planned a poolside bash at their townhome for the weekend. Later in the afternoon, Babs and I took the opportunity to go on a date, just the two of us. We went to see Larry Crowne, the Tom Hanks/Julia Roberts romcom which was enjoyable enough despite it's rather vague plot. After the movie we dined at Seasons 52, enjoying a four course meal that left us satisfied but not stuffed in the way that only Seasons 52 can.

The Little Feller and the Big Mouse

Monday, July 25, we made the first of what I'm sure will be several pilgrimages to Disney World. It was a hot day, but a fun one, especially for the kids. More on this in my entry Florida Family Vacation at Disney World.

It really was a special week and all three of us were sad to leave when it was over. It reminded me of those visits with family when we lived in Saipan--when the visits were never long enough and a year seemed too long to wait to see each other again. I left determined that now that we're closer, we need to plan to visit more than once a year.

It was nice to be on vacation from work and at-home responsibilities; Florida was wonderful, but it was the family that made our time a true treasure.

Respect

2011-07-30T15:02:00.000-07:00

R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Find out what it means to me
                                   --Otis Redding, as made famous by Aretha Franklin

There are three kinds of respect.

Respect Owed
There is the basic respect that all human beings deserve simply by virtue of being a child of God. Every person should always be treated with dignity, decency, and care. This kind of respect does not need to be earned. Unfortunately in this world of sin, this type of respect isn't often demonstrated universally, as it should be.

Respect Paid
The second kind of respect, is the respect we pay to those in authority or those with power over us. Police officers and other representatives of government, parents, teachers, employers, among others are due this type of respect. It is the same type of respect we pay to fire, the sea, a pit bull--a respect that we withold at our own peril. Here in America, this type of respect isn't particularly popular. We bridle at the thought that we owe anybody respect by mere virtue of their position. But I think this is because we often confuse this type of respect with the third kind.

Respect Earned
The third kind of respect is no one's birthright. It must be earned. This is the respect we bestow on those who inspire us and who we aspire to be like. We respect people who live their lives well, who demonstrate the first type of respect to all they encounter. We respect people for their character and their integrity. Or at least we should respect people for these reasons.   Somtimes we conflate talent with trustworthiness, skill with goodness, beauty with grace and we offer respect to those that do not deserve it.  This type of respect should be offered selectively. It may--or may not--be offered to those in authority over us. It definitely should not be doled out to every child of God.

Respect earned has proven a little tricky for me. I've found that when I have profound respect for a person, I tend to be accept with less critical thought what they have to say and think. The respect I have for them tends to put a seal of approval on all that they say, do and sometimes even to who they are related to. More than once I've found myself thinking: "Oh, she's So-and-So's sister? Then she must be amazing too!"   On the other hand, I've found that with people I don't respect I'm inclined to shut them down without really hearing them. More than once I've dismissed opinions or suggestions from people I don't respect only to later realize that what they had to say was actually right on target. I'm learning that it's important to consider the message itself rather than accepting or rejecting what I hear based only on the messenger.

After all, we can always learn from others, even those we don't respect. And even our biggest heroes, are still human and prone to error from time to time.

It is my goal in life to show the appropriate type of respect to everyone I encounter and to be a person that is worthy of respect myself.

Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honor the emperor.
                                                                                                                1 Peter 2:17

Meet Me in Chicago

2011-07-26T14:53:00.000-07:00

Meet me in Chicago
Down by the waterline.
You stepped across the gold coast
Stepped into this heart of mine
--"Chicago" by Mat Kearney

She's from Cincinnati, I'm from Portland, but Chicago. . .Chicago is our city, the one that belongs to us.

Our city of Chicago, as seen from our room at the Fairmont. Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Chicago has long been a part of the mythology of our relationship. We'd both been there countless times before we met with various would-be lovers and friends & aquaintances of the moment. But when we started dating, Chicago was never far away. The Big City, a mere a hour and a half from Andrews University, where we could go on Big City Dates. Some of my favorite memories of our early years of dating and marriage are set in the Windy City. There was the weekend of my friend Kim's wedding. The wedding was actually held in Atlanta, it's our time in Chicago that really sticks in my memory. We stayed in Kim's Irving Park apartment the night before our flight to Atlanta--it was like a taste of romantic urban life. And when we flew back into to town we decided to spend the day walking the city's blustery streets and warming ourselves with hot coffee at a Brother's coffee shop on Michigan Avenue. We got lost trying to find our way out of the city, and even that was a treasured moment. The two of us, out in the bustling metropolis, finding our way.

And then there was our wedding night. The first night of our honeymoon found us back in Chicago, celebrating the beginning of our life together in the luxurious Fairmont Hotel within sight of Navy Pier and Grant Park. We had planned to explore the city during the two days we had until we jetted off to our honeymoon proper--a week in Puerta Vallarta, Mexico--but the Fairmont was so amazing, that we found ourselves content to hole up in the room for virtually the entire time. Just looking out the windows we could see our city glittering in at our feet.

One of the last places we visited before we left for Saipan, was Chicago, once again. We shopped at the Crate and Barrel on the Magnificent Mile, and took lots of pictures of the city, to tide us over in the decidely un-urban life ahead of us.

San Francisco is gorgeous, San Diego the sort of place we even considered living in,Orlando is lots of fun, Cincinnati, Portland, Columbus are all home in one sense or another. But Chicago? Chicago is ours.

And so two weeks ago, we hit the road once again for Chicago--just the two of us. For the first time we left our son to stay overnight with his grandparents. For the next twenty-four hours or so, we would be simply a couple again. We enjoyed a nice drive up to the city, listening to the special U2 playlist I'd created on my ipod an anticipation of the concert that night.

Belly Shack: Perfect for lunch!

We arrived in Chicago around 2:30 in the afternoon and our first stop was the Belly Shack, a wonderfully delicious little place specializing in a hybrid of Korean and Puerto Rican food. I had the Korean BBQ beef with a side of the best kimchi I've had since Saipan (actually the first kimchi I"ve had since Saipan--but it was good!). Babs had the borica--marinated tofu with hoisin BBQ sauce and brown rice served on slices of crispy plantains. We also had the togarashi spiced fries with curry mayo--unbelievably good. I found the place while doing a google search of the best restaurants in Chicago, and I must concur that this is not only one of the best eats in Chicago, but one of the best anywhere--and reasonably priced too!

The Chicago Fairmont, one of our favorite places in our favorite city to stay

After treating our bellies at the Belly Shack, our next stop was the Chicago Fairmont hotel. After 14 years, it was long past time to revisit our honeymoon hotel. Since 1997, they've completely remodeled the place and if anything it's even more spectacular and luxurious than before. They gave us a huge suite with stunning views of the city from both the living room and bedroom. We thought our honeymoon suite was pretty swell, but these digs e easily outclassed our very lovely first room. Once again we found ourselves so enamored with the luxury of our room, that we ended up abandoning our plans to walk around the city and spent the remains of the afternoon reveling in our room overlooking our city.

The living room area of our suite, as you enter the front door.

The dining nook, adjoining the living room. You can see the door to the bedroom to the left

The bedroom. Wow! Our honeymoon suite was basically one room, like most hotel suites. This room had a completely seperate bedroom and a bedroom-sized bathroom as well!

Of course Babs had to get a picture of the artwork on the wall above our bed!

The view from our bedroom window

The happy couple, still on honeymoon after 14 years!

At the last possible minute, we grabbed a cab and raced over to Soldier Field for the main reason for our visit--the U2 360 tour was in town again, and this time I intended to treat my wife to the incomparable experience of a U2 show. I knew, having seen this tour twice already in 2009, that even with our seats high in the stands, Babs would be in for a treat.

At the show: We had seats high up "behind" the circular stage. The band made a decent effort to include us in the action, circling around to our side from time to time to sing or play, but still most of the time they were facing the front or sides. From this high up, the screen was the best way to view the show anyway and we always had a spectacular view of that.

We arrived just as the lights were going down and the band's intro music, David Bowie's "A Spaced Oddity" was beginning to play. The band played a great set. I've read online that many who'd seen multiple shows on this tour thought this one of their best nights of the tour. For myself, I found few surprises--since I'd studied the setlist in advance I knew pretty much what to expect. U2 began with a blistering quartet of songs from their 1991 album Achtung Baby, and then continued with a sampling of cuts from every album they've released--from crowd-pleasing hits like "Pride (In the Name of Love)", "With or Without You", "Beautiful Day" and this one:

"I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" (my traditional U2 concert video clip)

to fan-pleasing rarities like "Out of Control", "Zooropa" and "Scarlet". I was particularl pleased to hear "Zooropa" as it is one of my all-time favorite U2 tunes and hadn't been played live for years until just recently. But all of this was expected--at least for me--and what I was hoping for was a surprise, something I didn't see coming. And I got it, right at the very end. On what appeared to be a spur of the moment decision the band decided to play "One Tree Hill", a song written in honor of their close friend Greg Carroll, who died almost 25 years ago to the day of that concert. This song about saying goodbyes, with intimations of seeing loved ones again "when the stars fall from the sky and the moon turns red over One Tree Hill", and the image of the great ocean that I love so much, is another one of my favorites among favorites by U2 and I was so excited to hear it again. I last heard it at the Japan show I attended in 2006 and the bootleg of that version is the one I prefer above even the original recording. I felt even more lucky to hear it, when I found out that U2 rarely ever play this song.

All in all, it was a great show, with something for everyone--lots of familiar hits that I knew my wife, and the many other casual fans there would know, and lots of gems from their catalogue that die-hards like me could treasure.

Here's the complete setlist for the show we attended on Tuesday, July 5, 2011:

Even Better Than The Real Thing
The Fly
Mysterious Ways / Tryin' To Throw Your Arms Around The World (snippet)
Until The End Of The World
Out Of Control
Get On Your Boots
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For / The Promised Land (snippet)
Stay (Faraway, So Close!)
Beautiful Day / Space Oddity (snippet)
Elevation
Pride (In The Name Of Love)
Miss Sarajevo
Zooropa
City Of Blinding Lights / My Kind Of Town (snippet)
Vertigo
Miss You (snippet) / I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight / Discothèque (snippet) / Life During Wartime (snippet)
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Scarlet
Walk On / You'll Never Walk Alone (snippet)

encore(s):
One
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow (snippet) / Where The Streets Have No Name
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me / My Kind Of Town (snippet)
With Or Without You
Moment of Surrender / One Tree Hill (snippet)
One Tree Hill

Sound and Light at the U2360 show. I actually thought the band made more creative use of the 360 degree screen at the 2009 Chicago shows, but it was still pretty spectacular.

Looks like she's having a great time! To be honest, I felt a little shy taking Babs to her first U2 concert. I wasn't sure if she would enjoy it as much as I did, if she'd find either the band or my enthusiasm too loud. I'd have been crushed if she'd felt negatively about an experience and a band that I enjoy so much. Fortunately, my worries turned out to be for naught.

Just before "Moment of Surrender", Bono asked us to take out our cellphones, as he often does at concerts, and had the stage lights turned down so that the entire stadium turned into a galaxy of stars created by 80,000 phones. We opened our phone too, revealing the picture of our Little Feller, in that way remembering him and makin him part of our experience too.

U2's 360 stage nicknamed "The Claw" at the end of the show. The pictures came out better with the houselights up.

Babs n' Me after the show.

Getting out of the stadium took awhile, and by the time we began walking back to the Fairmont I was bone tired. Yet, strolling along hand-in-hand, the city lights twinkling all around us, is one of my favorite memories among many of the two of us in our city.

The next morning we slept late, rushed out to find some souvenirs to take home to our little boy, grabbed a delectable classic Chicago deep-dish pizza from Lou Malnati's (another place I definitely recommend--they have locations all over the city and out in the suburbs), and hit the road for home.

Our visit had been too short, as it seems our visits to Chicago always are, but long enough to create a few more special memories that will join the others of the times we've spent as friends and lovers in our city--Chicago.

Chicago cityscape. Babs took this photo on Wednesday, July 6, on our way out of town. With our good friends J, Evelyn, and Benjamin Carlos moving to the Windy City, we expect to be back soon and often.

Meet me in Chicago
Down by the water line
Step across the gold coast
To my heart and to your wine
Maybe Cincinnati
With a trip in the morning light
Step across the branches
I will follow you over the Rhine
And it takes one to know one
That's what they always say
I've waited for the dawn
And I've waited for the day
Oh, I'm coming low
And I'm willing to pray
Stepping through the haze
One more day on a wide open road
On and on and the lights come and go
And everything I might not even know
What is the distance
On through the resistance singing
Oh
Meet me in Portland
Roast here in the summer light
See you in the evergreens
I will catch you down on the Northeast side
And maybe San Diego
Moonlight at the lowest tide
See you in the shoreline breaker
Stepping over my maker's line
And it takes one to know one
That's what they always say
I've waited for the dawn
And I've waited for the day
Oh, I'm coming low
And I'm willing to pray
Stepping through the haze
One more day on a wide open road
On and on and the lights come and go
And everything I might not even know
What is the distance
On through the resistance singing

You met me on the backstreets
Right there at the end of the line
Where a spark turns into fire
And a tear falls into life

And it takes one to know one
That's what they always say
I've waited for the dawn
And I've waited for the day
Oh, I'm coming low
And I'm willing to pray
Stepping through the haze
One more day on a wide open road
On and on and the lights come and go
And everything I might not even know
What is the distance
On through the resistance
On a wide open road
On and on and the lights come and go
And everything I might not even know
What is the distance
On through the resistance singing
Oh
Meet me in Chicago
Down by the water line
You stepped across the gold coast
Stepped into this heart of mine

Wonderworks, Orlando: The Endorsement

2011-07-16T17:04:00.000-07:00

WonderWorks on International Drive in Orlando, Florida. It's not as big (or as expensive) as the name-brand theme parks, but there is lots of fun to be had there (and more than a little learning too--though you'll be having so much fun you'll barely notice).

When the Carnival Sensation returned to port Thursday morning, June 9, 2011, we were out of money, but not out of time. We still had another 24 hours before our flight left for Columbus. What were we to do with the remaining time on a budget of zero dollars?

Fortunately, my cousin Yvette Saliba came to the rescue. Having planned our budget carefully, I knew from the outset that there wouldn't be anything left over for Orlando, so I'd written Yvette hoping that she might be able to pull some strings or call in some favors and get us tickets to somewhere to while away the day in Orlando. Sure enough, she was able to hook us up with tickets to WonderWorks on International Drive.

Now we've all heard of the Disney World empire with it's vast network of parks from the Magic Kingdom to Epcot to Animal Kingdom. You're undoubtedly familiar with Universal Studios and Sea World. You may have even heard of nearby Busch Gardens, but Wonderworks? What's that?

Wonderworks, it turns out is one of Orlando best kept attractions secrets, but after a fantastic afternoon there I'm eager to do my part to raise the profile of this wonderful little place. Wonderworks has done an outstanding job of positioning itself as an easy addition to any tourist's Orlando itinerary. It is essentially a hands-on science museuem, though that description fails to do it justice. Indeed, Yvette's promo of the place was laced with caveats--there are no rides, no theme park characters, very little in the way of obvious "wow" factors--and really who would want to go look at science stuff when you're in the home of Mickey Mouse? But the truth is Wonderworks should be high on the list of any Orlando visitor's to-do list for a number of reasons:

1. It's small. This is just the place to fit in when you're sunburned and exahausted from a couple of days at the big parks, or when Central Florida's afternoon thunderstorms make the thought of long lines at the rides seem daunting. You can see the whole place in 3 to 4 hours and Wonderworks has made the savvy decision to keep it's doors open until midnight making it the perfect place to tack on to a late afternoon or early evening of a day's activity. Our group didn't arrive until four in the afternoon and we had plenty of time.

2. It's cheap. Granted, it was really cheap for us (thanks again Yvette!), but even for those who don't have helpful and generous cousins living in Orlando, the price for an adult full day's admission is $25, almost a quarter of the price of admission to Disney for a day, and about $60 less than the cost of a single-park ticket to Universal. A mere $20 bucks gets your kids under 12 in the door and includes admission to the 4D theater and the ropes course. The laser tag option is just $10 more.

3. It's fun! From the moment you enter the place (through a truly dizzying "inverter" that gives you the illusion of being turned upside down), the experience is first class, well-planned, and lots of fun. After your thrilling pass through the "inverter"--the idea is that the building is a mad scientists' experiment gone awry and that his inverter enables you to experience his upside down house as if you were right side up--you encounter the first of a series of rooms. Each room contains loads of fun, hands-on science activities. Virtually everything in Wonderworks lets you get involved--whether it's experiencing an earthquake or hurricane-force winds, designing and riding your own virtual roller coaster or using a computer model that depicts what you'll look like in fifty years.

Rather than being hit by the full force of the Wonderworks at once, the experience is divided up into a series of rooms, which encourages you to spend more time in each room, fully experiencing each one, before discovering the entrance to yet another room of wonders. After completing all the exhibits, you climb the stairs past dozens of mind-bending paintings and drawings by M.C. Escher and others until you reach The Basement (remember the building is "upside down.") The Basement holds an expansive video arcade, the 4-D movie theater, the laser tag course, and the ropes course. I like that they save all these activities until the end--otherwise kids might race past the exhibits in order to get to the video games, thus missing out on more than half the fun.

The Basement activities were all a cut above too. The 4-D theater provided some pretty exiting thrills and was better than any virtual ride I'd been on. The straight points system in the laser tag arena provided a maximum of action during our session there and easily outclassed any indoor laser tag experience I've had (though even this exceptional experience couldn't come close to the outdoor laser tag experience in Australia). The ropes course, dangling over the arcade, was fun and challenging too. Finally, the kids burned through the last of their pocket money on the arcade. We were there for over five hours and the kids probably would have stayed longer if we'd let them. And we didn't even go to the dinner and comedy and magic show, which from what I hear, is pretty impressive too.

So if you're looking for an an inexpensive and fun addition to your Orlando vacation for kids at least school-age or older, check out Wonderworks. Just look for the upside down house!

Blogging the Bahamas Beaches: Onshore in Freeport & Nassau

2011-07-14T13:34:00.000-07:00

Lucaya Beach, Freeport, Grand Bahamas Island. Monday, June 6, 2011

Western Esplanade Beach, Nassau, New Providence Island, Bahamas. Tuesday, June 7, 2011

A few weeks ago Babs and I were talking about what type of lifestyle defines us. Babs is an unabashed city girl—born in one of the great American cities, Cincinnati—and ever after enamored with urban life. If she had her way (and we had the money to afford it) we’d been living in a townhouse in the Short North, frequenting galleries and cafes and our son living a like someone on Sesame Street minus the muppets. The conversation started as we were driving through a quaint little town on our way to the Allegheny West Campground located about 45 minutes southeast of our home in New Albany. We noted the charm of the little village, and acknowledged the appeal of living in a small town like that. Indeed, I know there are those that find the prospect of living out their lives in small-town America to be utterly romantic. But Babs and I agreed, that wasn’t our style. Likewise, we drove through beautiful farmland, and mused over the idea of living a rural lifestyle. Again, we could see the appeal of such a life but recognized it wasn’t for us.

So Babs asked me, where would you want to live?

To be honest, I can be happy just about anywhere. I think I could find the beauty and joy in country living, residing in a small town, or a big city. I have found much to enjoy and appreciate living in an upscale suburban area. But none of those places define me. After some thought, it came to me—something I guess I’ve known for a long time—when all is said and done I’m an island boy. The island life is the life for me. The laid-back life, all-warm-weather climate, the sand and the sea, the eclectic mix of local islanders and ex-patriates—that is me.

And so it was a joy to return to the islands at the beginning of June, 2011. Granted they were islands I’d never seen before, but I’m realizing that tropical islands of any kind fit the bill. When I’m there, even if it’s my first time visiting I feel totally at home.

Where I belong.

Freeport

Our first port of call was on Monday morning, June 6, 2011, just over 15 hours after we left Florida, at Freeport on Grand Bahama Island.

A tranquil corner of the Lucaya tourist district in Freeport

The port on Grand Bahama island was about 20 minutes drive from anything of note and we ended up spending $90 round trip on taxi fare just to get into town. The island, though much larger than New Providence, reminded me a great deal of Tinian, Saipan's smaller neighbor to the south with its quiet roads, the langorous pace, and the mostly flat landscape. We had the taxi drop us off at Lucaya, the main tourist district in Freeport. This place reminded me of Garapan, Saipan's tourist district--full of shops stocked with touristy knick-knacks, sunglasses, sarongs, and souvinirs, a few resorts dominating the beachside, and a noticeable lack of people. The Lucaya district had that same eerie since I noticed in Garapan--the sense that the place was built to accomodate more people than were there.

The national flag of the Bahamas flies over a building near the Lucaya tourist district in Freeport

The kids browsed the shops but weren't quick to buy. I bought a Malta, enjoying the cold beverage until an errant bee flew into the bottle, drowned itself in the brew, and I was forced to discard the rest.

"YoungMoney" jams with a local musician at an open square in the Lucaya District. This one-man band was another familiar island staple reminiscent of Saipan. This guy put on quite an energetic show despite virtually no audience and the broiling midday sun. In addition to our temporary additions to his show, another school group of fifth and sixth grade boys--also traveling on the Sensation--stopped by and struck up an impressive impromptu dance number.

After some window-shopping we ambled down to the beach for a little bit of sun, sand, and sea before we had to meet our driver to return to the ship.

It's hard to beat the graceful beauty and island charm of coconut palms

Lucaya district, Freeport, Bahamas

The Freeport visit was hardly what I'd call exciting, but it was relaxing and thoroughly enjoyable. For me just being on the island was pleasure enough.

The line to reboard the Sensation. We set sail from Freeport at 5:00 P.M. on Monday, June 6, the same day we arrived. Our next destination: Nassau

Nassau

Nassau in contrast to Freeport was a bustling hive of activity. Its sister island in the Marianas would be Guam. The tourist activities began virtually the moment you got off the ship--shopping, a beach in walking distance, restaurants, and historical sights were all close at hand.

We pulled into port early Tuesday morning, June 7, and were picked up at the port around 9:00 A.M. by Anthony Burrows (above), principal of the Bahamas Academy of Seventh-day Adventists. He and one of the teachers from the school took care of us for the morning beginning with a tour of the school's brand new campus under construction.

One of the classrooms at the current and soon-to-be former campus of Bahamas Academy of Seventh-day Adventists

After a stop at the conference office, we were taken to the old campus for a tour where we were treated to cold drinks and pizza.

The interior of Fort Charlotte, an old British garrison in the heart of Nassau

After a pleasant morning touring our sister Adventist institutions we were dropped off at Ft. Charlotte, an old colonial-era fort not far from the port. A big thank you to Principal Burrows and the staff at Bahamas Academy for your generous hospitality and the gift your time and effort to provide us with a comprehensive tour of the Adventist landmarks in Nassau.

At our next destination, we spent more time shopping at the cluster of vendors outside the fort than we did inside. The guided tour was delivered in a bored monotone and was over in about 15 minutes. It wasn't worth the $3.00 a piece that we paid to get inside and certainly not worthy of the tip we were encouraged to (but stubbornly did not) leave behind. The fort itself was small and somewhat interesting. It reminded me of the forts we used to visit when I was a kid living in St. Croix in the U.S. Virgin Islands though those were better maintained as I recall. Needless to say this was not the highlight of our trip.

A view from Ft. Charlotte. You can see our ship in the distance, and beyond that the towers of the famed Atlantis resort.

From Fort Charlotte, we shelled out a few more dollars and got a ride back to the ship, where we ate late lunch and resupplied for a late afternoon foray to the souvenir vendors and the beach.

Throughout our time onshore in the Bahamas there were familiar notes of the island life:

The flame trees

They go by a different name in the Bahamas, but to me they are still flame trees. Their fiery blossoms were a welcome and familiar site

The beach, of course

Yet another beach shot, this one from our time in Nassau. Our ship, the Sensation, is the one on the left.

and the tourist racket. . .

The Nassau Straw Market. We did most of our souvenir shopping here, barganing with the vendors in the hopes of brining home a bargain. It's not rocket science, really, to live in a place everyone wants to visit and make a living selling what you get for free. (I didn't take any photos of the Straw Market myself--this photo is from About.com)

Let others have the sophisticated cities, the friendly small towns, the bucolic countryside. I'll take the island life any day!

Just had to throw these two photos in:

While driving us around Nassau, Mr. Burrows pointed this scene out to us: three guys painting one traffic signal. Many hands make light work, I guess, though I couldn't help being reminded of the bloated government waste that was one of the downsides of life in Saipan.

And how could I not take a photo of Columbus House?

"Seaing" an Old Friend

2011-06-30T19:16:00.000-07:00

I have missed the sea.

I didn’t really realize this until I was onboard the Sensation, late in the afternoon, after the coast of Florida had receded into the distance. Leaning against the railing, looking out into the endless vastness of the ocean, I was reminded of the vista from the edge of Banzai Cliff, from the peak of Mt. Tapochau, from the cliffs of Naftan Point, and it was like seeing an old friend again. I realized the last time I’d seen the sea was when I was last in Saipan. It had been way too long.

After that I took a glance out of every window as I walked about the ship, always kept my gaze angle seaward as I strolled the decks, thrilling in the beautiful sight of the great ocean around me.

I suppose the immensity of the sea could be a bit terrifying, but for me the feeling is more one of awe. The ocean, like her Creator, puts you in perspective by virtue of her sheer size and power. Of course the difference is that while I can know and love the sea, she cannot know and love me—she is big, but the soulfulness in her sparkling beauty is but an illusion. She feels nothing. But when I look at the ocean, I can’t help but think of our Creator—the One who made the sea and who made, knows, and loves me.

“. . .He who calls for the waters of the sea, and pours them out on the face of the earth, the Lord is His name.” Amos 9:6b

The Cruise: Highights from the High Seas

2011-06-29T19:30:00.000-07:00

On board the Carnival Sensation at sunset

I've never had any interest in going on a cruise. I admit I'd always been a bit of a snob about cruises. They seemed, for lack of a better word, corny. The TV ads trumpeting the rock wall and the flow-rider did little to disabuse me of my smug sense of superiority. The experience just seemed too packaged, too limiting--literally being stuck on a ship for much of the journey. The cruise experience with it's casinos, showgirls, and man-made spectacle seemed reminiscent of Vegas, another place that's never had any appeal to me.

But now that I've actually been a cruise I can report. . .that it is a little corny. The overly-shiny decor and faux luxe details are reminiscent of a late-80's three star hotel. But it's also a lot of fun, and definitely something I'd like to do again. After all, if you're going on vacation, this is way better than flying coach on an airplane. Why not make the journey part of the destination?

The six 8th grade graduates along with Pastor Johnson, school principal Brenda Arthurs, and I met at the airport in Columbus late Sabbath afternoon, June 4. We flew to Orlando, FL arriving around 7:30 in the evening. There our group split up. Funds were tight, and I had agreed to flying rather than driving to Florida on the condition that we keep expenses to a minimum. So Mrs. Arthurs, and "The Rose", the one girl among the students (so named because our headwaiter on the cruise referred to her as "the rose among the thorns") headed off to spend the night with a family friends of Mrs. Arthurs. Most of the boys stayed with Pastor Johnson at the airport Embassy Suites, and "The Attorney" and I stayed at my mom's house. Sunday morning we all met up at the hotel for breakfast and then got a ride arranged through one of the local Adventist churches by Pastor Johnson to Port Canaveral. Herewith, some of the highlights from our time on the high seas:

The Sensation in port at Freeport, Bahamas

The Ship

Our ship was the Carnival Sensation and it was huge (though certainly not the biggest ship out there. At the next pier over was the Royal Caribbean Freedom of the Seas which towered over our vessel.) Walking into the huge main atrium, looking up five or six stories at the massive skylight above you're suitably impressed by the size of the ship. There's space for a jogging track, a mini-golf course, several waterpark-worthy water slides, and of course the swimming pool. Indoors there's the gym, spa, salon, casinos, various nightclubs and lounges, and an expansive entertainment stage where Vegas-style musical revues are performed each night. At first it was easy to get lost onboard, but after a day we began to get our bearings, and before long we could navigate the vessel from end to end with ease. We found the ship is big but gets smaller the more time you spend on it. But it never gets so small you feel cramped.

The view from the top. We gathered here with a lot of our fellow travelers as the liner left Port Canaveral

Another view as we departed Port Canaveral

The atrium is a great place to get a sense of the sheer size of the ship as you can see muliple deck levels all at the same time here.

Looking up at the massive skylight in the main atrium. Doesn't it seem like Batman should come crashing through there at some point?

It's also big enough that you almost never feel the ship moving--something I'd always had a little anxiety about. I've always been a little prone to motion sickness and didn't want to end up spending most of the trip curled up over the toilet returning all the free cruise food. I brought along a healthy supply of dramamine but found I only used it twice. One pill on the first night at sea, and one the last night. Neither occasion demanded the remedy, but I did notice some motion and figured I'd better be safe than sorry. Mrs. Arthurs and I were the only ones who were even slightly affected by the motion of the ocean, and it didn't impinge on our enjoyment of the trip at all.

This web photo of an interior stateroom on a Carnival vessel is identical to the one we stayed in, right down to the color scheme and flat screen TV. The upper bunk folds away during the day. There is another set of bunks located at the photographer's vantage point. Very comfy.

The Staterooms
The staterooms were much better than I expected. I envisioned a closet of a room, a place to change, sleep, and shower and that's all, especially since we'd purchased the cheapest rooms available, windowless interior rooms down in the bowels of the ship. I figured stateroom was an overstatement, a marketing ploy to dress up steerage class, but was pleasantly surprised to find we got substantially more than that. The rooms were small, yes, bu big enough to be comfortable. Our room slept four, with two overhead bunks that were folded away during the day, opening up the room a bit. I actually found the room cozy rather than claustrophobic. A nice touch was the curtained wall-space which gave the illusion of a window, which was surprisingly helpful in preventing one from feeling penned in. The only drawback is that in an interior room it's all too easy to oversleep. 9:00 A.M. feels the same as 4:00 A.M. with no sunlight to clue you in. I shared a room with three of the boys--"The Attorney" (so named for his considerable debating skills--skills he employed on me ad nauseum for reasons big and small all school year long!), "The Quiet Man" (the verbal opposite of "The Attorney") and "Asian Pop Star" (so named because of his super-trendy style). Pastor Johnson shared a room a few doors down with "Freshboi" and his son who I will call "Youngmoney" after one of his many Facebook appellations. "The Rose" and Mrs. Arthurs were quite a hike forward on the same deck as the rest of us.

A view of just part of the gargantuan buffet on the Lido deck of a Carnival cruise ship. I snagged this photo from the web, and our particular vessel's buffet didn't look exactly like this, but this gives you the general idea.

The Lido Deck
One of the great perks of cruising is the free food! Indeed one of the key selling points when we decided to go on a cruise was that once you're onboard everything is free (well, almost everything--but the food--all of it--is definitely free). The first place we all headed after depositing our carry-ons (our larger bags would be delivered by the porters later on in the day) in our staterooms was the Lido deck where an endless array of food awaited us. Apparently all cruise ships have a Lido deck, where the outdoor pool and surrounding facilities are located. For us though, the Lido deck meant a sumptuous buffet spread available at virtually all hours of the day. Even though the main buffet was only open at meal times, those meal times were several hours in length each and in between the pizzeria and deli were always open. There was so much food available that I did the opposite of gorging myself on my first meal. I began with a simple plate of grilled vegetables, olives, and a little eggplant dish. There was no need to stuff myself because I knew that a feast awaited me at my leisure.

Another view of the Lido deck buffet. This is the serving line. Again this is a web photo and not our actual ship.

The Lido deck became one of our favorite hangouts and meeting places. Leisurely breakfasts of pancakes, scrambled eggs (and a veggie omlet!), hash browns, grits, yogurt, a couple of Danish pastries, washed down with OJ. Quick snacks of a Rueben from the deli, a late lunch of burgers, fries and fried chicken from the grill, and ice cream—lots of ice cream from the soft serve machines any time you liked. I confess I had three ice cream cones in a row. . . more than once. Even when we weren’t eating, we often ended up on the Lido deck. It was a great place to find a deck chair in the sun or shade and just relax. Pastor Johnson and I kept up with the NBA championships on the TVs scattered about in the buffet area and the pool bar. We’d outfitted each of the students with their own walkie-talkies to enable us to keep track of them while allowing them a measure of freedom onboard the ship, but I found that it was easy to keep an eye on them simply by staying on the Lido deck.

"The Rose" and Mrs. Arthurs contemplate their many delicious choices at dinner. I suppose you could order everything on the menu if you wanted. It's all free! On at least one meal, I did order three items from the starter menu--a soup, a salad, and appetizer plus an entree and a dessert for a true full-course meal

Dinner
One of the high points of each day on the ship, was our seated dinner time. It was nice to come together with the whole group and share a meal together. It was also a great opportunity for our students to learn the finer points of fine dining. The setting was quite elegant—nice china, linen table cloths, and so on. There is something very egalitarian about the cruise experience. Regular people get to feel rich (and if you're not careful, spend like you're rich). There's no Titanic-like restrictions by class. We cellar dwellers ate at the same table as the people who paid for the fancy high-end staterooms.

The menu was diverse with a couple new selections every night in addition to the “Carnival Classics” that were always available—of course everything on the menu was free. Monday night was Elegant Night and the dress code called for formal wear. Our kids turned out looking sharp and carried themselves like true lady and gentlemen. We were waited on by a team of three led by our headwaiter, Julie. Julie was a friendly and solicitous Filipina and her familiar accent brought back fond memories of Saipan and all our friends in the Filipino community there.

Each evening the entire wait staff led by the maître d presented a short performance—a song or dance or both for our entertainment. On Tuesday night, “Freshboi” provided one of the more memorable dinnertime moments of the trip. The wait staff were providing an amateur dance number to the tune of “Apple Bottom Jeans” and of course many of the dinner guests joined in the fun. “Freshboi” jumped out of his seat and started cutting a rug—and I swear, I thought this only happened in movies—the crowd stopped dancing, made a big circle for him, and cheered him on as he showed his stuff. I guess all that jiving in the hall on the way back from the bathroom finally paid off. I admit was more than a little impressed that his moves could command that kind of attention.

Another enjoyable aspect of the evening was getting to know our tablemates. You are assigned the same table for duration of the cruise and each table is filled so you usually get an opportunity to share your meal each evening with some of the other guests on board. Our tablemates were Carol, her daughter Jennifer, and Jennifer’s two sons. The family was from Orlando and had decided on the cruise as a last minute treat. Getting to know them over dinner was a pleasure.

Passengers living it up on the Lido deck

The Fun Ship
We cruised with Carnival. They did a great job from start to finish. I had a "personal vacation planner" who knew my by name and was my direct contact from the time I first enquired about the cruise, through our reservations process, and the months leading up to the trip. A big thanks to Roy at Carnival for all your help! Once on board, the attention to detail and fantastic service continued. The stateroom steward took the time to learn my name and always greeted me as we passed in the hall. Guest services allowed “Asian Pop Star” to call his parents from their phone free of charge (Normally, it would have cost over $5 per minute. And it wasn’t even a dire emergency—at least in my opinion. He wanted to look even more like an Asian pop star and dye his hair an Asian pop star brown. I --and the salon staff--wouldn’t allow him to do it unless I knew for sure his parents would allow it. They gave the okay, but then it turned out he couldn’t get it done anyway because the dye allergy test wouldn’t clear before the cruise ended. I was also very impressed with how the stylist broke the news to a deeply disappointed “Asian Pop Star”). At dinner the maître d arranged for us to change tables to escape smoke drifting down from the lounge upstairs and got us in for late seating when we missed our assigned early seating due to a late return from our day in Nassau. In every aspect, I found the service and attention outstanding.

One of the neat things the stewards do each night when they turn down our beds, is leave a towel folded in the shape of an animal. On this particular night, I think it was Wednesday night, June 8, they left us a towel crab.

Carnival bills its vessels as the “fun ships.” And indeed the emphasis from the moment we boarded was to provide as many ways for the guests to have fun as possible. Each evening we found a schedule of the next days’ activity choices onboard the ship and there was always something going on. I’d say we took advantage of about 1% of all the activities they had available, and we were never bored. Carnival cruise ships remind me a lot of the Pacific Islands Club resort in Saipan—a floating P.I.C. They have the same international cast of young staff members and the same emphasis on keeping things exciting.

For the first two full days of the cruise, we were ashore for most of the day. Still we ate on board the ship and there was plenty of time in the evening to take advantage all the ship had to offer. The last day of the cruise, Wednesday, June 8, we were at sea for the full day and we were able to take full advantage of everything on board. The kids spent most of their time revolving between the Lido deck and Circle C, a youth club for kids 12-14 that provided a steady stream of activities and games throughout the day and well into the night. They also made occasional forays to the gym, where I’d supervise them while they tried out the various machines. Their main goal was social—to make new friends, particularly girls. (“The Rose” was content with privileging some of her classmates with the pleasure of her company as she saw fit—you can imagine the drama among the fellows on that count!)

"The Attorney" above and "The Rose" below, working out in the onboard gym

Surprisingly the kids didn’t utilize the pool or the waterpark very much at all. The boys swam briefly a few times, but complained that the water “didn’t feel right.” I’m not sure what they meant by that, as I didn’t swim myself. The pool and the two whirlpools on either side of it were usually pretty crowded anyway. I did try one of the slides in the waterpark though on our last day and found it quite refreshing after reading on a sunny deck chair for an hour or so.

On the full day at sea, I also popped into see one of the short shows/contests they had throughout the day. The one I saw was a version of the newlywed game featuring one couple that had been married 51 years, one couple that had been married 26 years, and one couple that had been married for four days. The game was hosted by Skip, the ship’s Australian cruise director. It was quite funny, and I enjoyed trying to guess what Babs and I might have replied to the questions. Unfortunately I missed the reveal of the couple’s responses as I was called away to deal with “Asian Pop Star’s” hair dye drama.

It’s quite possible to fill your day onboard the ship and never spend a dime. It’s also possible to spend quite a lot. If you want to drink soda, you can pay three bucks a pop plus gratuity or spend $24 for a soda card that allows you to drink unlimited soda for the duration of the cruise. Carnival also employs a small crew of ubiquitous photographers who take pictures of you as you board the ship, as you disembark at each port of call, and as you eat dinner. In addition they have a multitude of backdrops set up along the promenade deck where you can have professional portraits of all kinds taken. The pictures are displayed on a wall of photos in the main atrium and you can pick and choose which ones you’d like to keep. A full-size 8 X 10 will set you back well over $20, so buying pics can add up fast. At our last dinner, the students presented Mrs. Arthurs and me each with a leather bound professional photo of my students and me that we took during the Elegant Night. It’s a beautiful photo, I must say—everyone looks like the most beautiful versions of themselves. I’m sure it must have set them back a pretty penny, and I was touched that they used some of their personal funds that way. Carnival also offers to book shore excursions for each of the ports of call. The cheapest of these excursions, the basic tour of Nassau runs about $45 per person, with activities such as the Dolphin Encounter in Freeport or the visit to the legendary Atlantis resort in Nassau costing over $100 per person. If you can’t be away from the web for four days, you can pay a hefty fee to use wi-fi or connect using one of the ship’s computers. Likewise, cell-phones are functional throughout the cruise, but you’ll be charged exorbitant international rates when you make or receive calls (and, I’m told, roaming charges that are assessed even if you never make a single call). We just turned our phones off for the duration of the trip.

In addition to these optional expenses, expect to be charged $10 per person per day for gratuities. These funds go to the wait staff that serve you at dinner, the steward and other housekeeping staff, and other behind-the-scenes workers. To be fair, if you’re going to leave a fair tip you’d probably spend that much or more anyway, but the $160 for gratuities that our room was charged sure hit the wallet hard. You’re also expected to leave a generous tip in cash for the maître d on the last night of the cruise. I don’t begrudge any of the gratuities but in the future I’ll be prepared for the added expense. Even though I knew we would need to tip, I was still caught a little flatfooted with the amount we ended up spending.

Spending is dangerously easy on the ship. Each guest is given a Sign and Sail card when they check in. This card is used for any and all purchases on the ship—the soda card, gift shop purchases, photos etc—and the amount charged is assessed to your credit card automatically when the cruise is over, or you can pay in cash if you prefer. Because charging is so easy, I imagine it would be easy to rack up quite a bill without realizing it.

The Sensation, right, in port in Nassau. In the foreground is a Royal Caribbean vessel, the Majesty of the Seas, I think.

When all is said and done, I have to say that I wouldn’t mind cruising again. I think it would be a lot of fun with my family. I might be interested in trying another line like Royal Caribbean, but I’ve heard that some of the other cruise lines skew towards an elderly clientele, and I like the variety of activities available for kids and families on the Carnival Fun Ships. It’d be nice to splurge abit and get a room with a view or even a balcony. There’d be lots we could do with the Feller and could even leave him at Camp Carnival (the kids camp/day care for children from ages 2-11) for a little while and spend some time together just the two of us.

Congratulations, Carnival! You’ve converted this cruise skeptic! Hopefully sometime in the near future, I’ll have the chance to hit the high seas again.

Unfortunately, the only photo I could get of an entire cruise ship was of the Royal Caribbean vessel, which was blocking our ship. You can just make out the water slide of the Sensation peeking out from behind the mammoth RC ship.

Trips are for Kids: Reflecting on the 8th Grade Class Trip

2011-06-25T08:23:00.000-07:00

CAA's 8th grade class of 2011 set sail for the Bahamas Sunday, June 5, 2011 from Port Canaveral, FL. In this photo class treasurer, "Freshboi", looks out to sea as the Carnival cruise vessel Sensation leaves port.

This blog began with an 8^th grade class trip. My first entries in the spring of 2006 were a recounting of that year’s trip to Seoul, South Korea. Since then I’ve had an ongoing tradition of blogging extensively about the class trip. I missed a year—my first in Columbus when due to an unusual set of circumstances which I won’t get into here—I ended up not going on the 8^th grade class trip to Orlando even though I was the 8^th grade class sponsor. The trip entries have always been among my favorites. But this year before I begin the usual chronicle of my adventures with students and colleagues in the Caribbean, I thought I’d like to reflect on the rationale for the 8^th grade class trip.

My first 8^th grade class trip was to Bali, when I was just 25 years old and a new teacher at Saipan SDA School. It was a learning experience. The kids were so terrified of the aggressive vendors on the streets of Kuta that they begged to just stay in the hotel. I lost $75 of the class’s money to quick-fingered money-changers. A group of my boys had to be moved from their hotel room because their loud horseplay in their room led to complaints. I learned a lot that year and since then, I’ve taken groups of 8^th graders to Australia (twice), the Philippines and Thailand, South Korea, Japan and Singapore and Orlando and the Bahamas. All of the trips have been fantastic experiences.

Here in America I’ve encountered a question that was never asked during in our years in Saipan: Why do the 8^th graders get to go on such extravagant trips? (Well, actually no one has ever asked me that question directly, but I’ve been told the question was asked a lot this past school year. The board votes at the local, conference, and union level were close, I’m told). A typical 8^th grade class trip is a visit to a neighboring city, a day at the local amusement park, and maybe a night or two at the Travelodge. The kids have a good time and go home. Some schools might even pull out all the stops and make the trek to DC for a few days of national heritage touring. The kids get to see history first hand, learn a lot, and go home. But riding an elephant by day in Thailand and sleeping in a five-star hotel in Bangkok at night? White-water rafting in Bali? Learning to throwa boomerang from an Aborigine and petting a kangaroo in Australia? Attending a Broadway-style musical on the history of South Korea and hearing a world-reknowned pianist play in a beautiful concert hall in Seoul? Experiencing three national cultures in one city on the island nation of Singapore? Taking a cruise to the Bahamas? Isn’t it all a little much? After all why should mere kids get to experience all that?

My response is simple: Why shouldn’t they? The kids shouldn’t just have a little fun and learn a few things and then go home. They should have an experience of a lifetime, a trip they’ll never forget.

I think 8^th grade is an ideal time to take students on a major trip—whether it be to one of the great cities of America or to an exciting international destination. Public and private schools are beginning to offer opportunities for kids as young as fifth grade to go to places like France and China. This website has an ongoing discussion among teachers a few years ago discussing taking their middle school students to places like Mexico and Spain! I’m proud to say that at the schools where I’ve taught we’ve been ahead of the curve instead of playing catch-up.

Here’s what I’ve found from more than ten years of touring the world with middle-schoolers:

8^th grade students are old enough to appreciate the experience and are able to handle being away from home, but young enough that they can’t get into adult-style trouble. With my 8^th graders I don’t have to worry about my kids trying to sneak out at night to find the local nightclub. I don’t need to worry about the kids trying to take advantage of another country’s lower legal drinking age. Onboard the Carnival Sensation, I knew none of my kids were going to have much interest in or the ability to sneak their way into the casinos or night clubs. The kids, despite the already raging hormones and their belief that they know everything, still retain a certain innocence that precludes trouble and also can make more open to the new experience. To be honest, I don’t think I’d ever want to volunteer to take a group of high school seniors on a major trip—too much stress and worry! I’ll take my 8^th graders any day.

Traveling with 8^th grade students exposes them to a wider view of the world. Both in Saipan and in Columbus, I had students who had never been outside of the United States before. Some had never even been on a plane or left the island (or state). It’s an invaluable experience for kids to see how people live in a different part of the world or a different part of the country—to see how kids go to school in Thailand or the Bahamas, how the Adventist church worships in Korea or Australia, to learn a few words of a foreign language (or a different way of speaking English!) It’s important for them to see the world is bigger than what they have known.

I loved my 8th grade class trip!! It definitely broadened my horizons. We were able to experience things that we wouldn't usually experience. I remember when we were in Australia we went into the Outback with the Aborigines and ate ants wit...h green butts. We learned that the ants are what the Aborigines ate while out in the Outback for vitamin C. The other day I was watching Discovery Channel and saw a special on Australia. Sure thing, the green butt ants were featured!! It was pretty cool telling people that I have actually tried the green butt ants!! Not to mention the white water rafting was pretty awesome!--Neischangpi Satur (Class of 2000, Australia)

On Tuesday, June 7, 2011 we visited the new campus of Bahamas Academy of Seventh-day Adventists on New Providence Island, which is still under construction. Eventually this $10 million complex will house over eight hundred students.

We also visited the current campus of the Bahamas Academy of Seventh-day Adventists. The kids were amazed to learn that the 8th grade class at Bahamas Academy has more students than our entire school!

And for some, this may be the only chance they get. Sure there may be trips in high school, but if they’re not at an Adventist or other private school, with thousands in their class all they’ll get is an opportunity. Perhaps, if they’re a part of the French club they’ll get a chance to go to France or tour the United Kingdom with the AP Literature class. Maybe the seniors will have an optional trip that a handful of students shelling out big bucks will get to attend. But the chance to visit a great destination with all of your classmates in a manageable group is a rare and precious opportunity. With this in mind, I’ve always had a few basic principles that have guided my approach to the 8^th grade class trip.

#1. Everybody goes. I’m a strong believer in doing whatever it takes to ensure that every student goes on the class trip. I’m proud to say that in nine 8^th grade class trips, we’ve only had to leave behind four students (One because he and his parents never got around to applying for his passport despite repeated reminders, one who enrolled in our school the week before we left for the trip, one who discovered at the airport that she’d need an entry visa, and only one who I did not allow to attend due to behavior and academic issues).

#2. The destination should be a place that most of the students have not visited before, and are unlikely to have the opportunity to visit again in the near future. And I believe in giving kids a voice in where we go. I know I could simply decree our destination at the beginning of each year, or simply return to the same place year after year. I’m sure there are advantages to such an approach. But here’s what I know: I’ve never had a class complain about their class trip destination (whining on the trip itself however. . .well, they are kids after all!). I think this is because my kids know that this is the trip that they chose through their votes, through their hard work and discipline (or lack thereof—if the kids end up going to Guam or Cleveland they know it’s because they didn’t put in the work for a more spectacular destination). I also know that things have a way of working out—the kids may be all gung-ho for a European tour at the beginning of the year, but reality has a way of saying no as loud and clear as any law I could lay down, and I don’t have to deal with the resentment. So you want to go to Paris? Go for it. Here’s how much money we’d have to raise. Parents, principal, school board, conference board, union board all have to approve. If you can make that happen, then by all means let’s go. Reality takes care of the rest. And hey, those second choice destinations-the ones I’ve been subtly promoting all year--they usually aren’t too shabby either.

The kids originally wanted to go to California, but they ended up here instead. Bummer. (Lacaya Beach, Freeport, Bahamas. June 6, 2011)

ahhh 8th grade class trip, by far the best week in my life! Australia was amazing. Memories of it are still fresh in my mind. Arriving at the airport, waiting for the bus driver, getting to the hotel, arguing of beds, going to church, e...ating those LARGE mangoes, switching hotels, laser tagging, tube riding, that aboriginal park, that skyrail that was VERY scary, kei learning how to wash clothes, SHOPPING, white water rafting, and the four wheeler stuff. AND POOL, i wasted alot of money playing that. It was so much fun and we learned so much from it. All the fundraisers and all the hard work to get there was all worth it. Learning about the aboriginal people was cool too, I did not know they even existed and I bet they didn't know what chamorros or carolinians were. Imagine that, one week in Australia and I discovered a new race--Kono Remeliik (Class of 2008, Australia)

#3. Learning is always on the itinerary. And by that I don’t necessarily mean museums (though those are often included too). A zoo, a classical music concert, a centuries-old fort, a cultural village are great academic learning experiences. But I also want my students to learn about the larger Adventist organization our school belongs to. I make it a point to visit an Adventist institution on every class trip. I also want my students to learn how to conduct themselves while traveling whether right here in America or abroad. Whether on a plane, train, or cruise ship I want my students to learn how to travel, how to make their way in a new place with courtesy, curiosity, and dignity.

One of my students poses with a cannon at Ft. Charlotte in Nassau on New Providence Island in the Bahamas. We took a brief tour of the fort that once housed a British garrison in the late 18th and early 19th century and wandered the grounds a bit on our own.

Finally, I believe the 8^th grade is the ideal time for a big trip because often times it’s on the trip that they grow up. Literally overnight silly, irresponsible children seem to morph into serious, responsible young men and women. Almost without exception my students have raised the bar while traveling with their class. This last group, the class of 2011 maintained the trend. There was none of the buffoonery, none of the constant arguing over instructions, none of the bad attitudes that had cropped up during the year. My students were outstanding, throughout the trip. Not that there was a lack of drama among them or some of the usual minor griping or lack of appreciation of the moment (“Hey guys, look a beach! Let’s swim!” “No, I’ll just sit on the beach here and be bored”). But when it came to following instructions, staying out of trouble, carrying themselves with dignity in public places, exhibiting responsibility and courtesy to those around them, my students were exceptional. I was so proud of them. Of course, I’d had that feeling before: Watching Myoung Hun barter like a seasoned professional with the street vendors in Bali, Ian changing in money in Australia like he’d been doing it his whole life, Fredo falling in love with Thailand, Nicole and Ana eagerly embracing each new experience in Singapore and South Korea respectively, “J”, “Koala”, and “S” exhibiting a heartening spirit of adventure in Australia. Every year I get the privilege of watching my students rise to the occasion and shine.

I absolutely love the fact that I fell in love with Thailand. It became to me more than just a trip. The people were great and I really enjoyed the food, the stores, the culture. It was very good at impressing me. Learning some things and learning social norms in different places is also a very cool and neat thing to experience-Wilfredo Paez (Class of 2005, Philippines & Thailand)

This year our class took a cruise to the Bahamas. Where will the class of 2012 go? If you ask me, the sky is the limit. But no matter where we go, it’s sure to be the trip of a lifetime

I asked some of my former students turned Facebook-friends to tell me about what they remembered from their 8th grade class trip. Many of those kids are adults now, but they still have vivid memories of their 8th grade trip. I shared some of the responses in this entry and you can see more here.

Coming up:

The Cruise: Highlights from the High Seas

Blogging the Bahamas Beaches: Onshore in Freeport and Nassau

"Seaing" an Old Friend

The Endorsement: WonderWorks, Orlando FL

More photos! Pastor Joel Johnson, the father of one of our 8th graders, traveled with us as a chaperone and took lots of photos. He promised us all copies of all his pictures, and as soon as I collect on that promise, I will add a lot more photos to this entry and the others to come. Also, I'm going to work on getting written permission from all my students' parents so that I can post photos of the kids on the blog. After all, it's a bit odd to have blog entries about my trip with my students and never see the kids!

Pastor Johnson armed with multiple cameras. With this kind of equipment, I think you can expect some pretty outstanding photos!

Win-Win: The Dallas Mavericks' Gift to Teachers

2011-06-14T18:15:00.000-07:00

Too often in our world it seems that wrong is rewarded. We try to teach our kids that it’s important to be humble, to be unselfish, to be loyal. We tell them that’s it’s not “all about them.” We tell them it’s important to work hard and pay your dues, stay in school, go to college. But then all around them they see people who are arrogant and selfish, and who, as a direct result of their choices, are showered with success, money, fame, and power. They see so-called role models in sports and entertainment who make it clear that’s “all about me.” They see people for whom the regular rules seem not to apply—they didn’t really need to bother with boring hard work. They didn’t need to stay in school or even go to college. The good life seems to have come to them simply because they demanded it.

But every now and then, the values that we strive to teach are vindicated in the flashy world of popular culture. Every now and then hard work and teamwork triumph over exceptional talent and individual superstardom. Every now and then humility and selflessness triumph over braggadocio and self-interest. Every now and then those who paid their dues get paid back at last. Such was the case Sunday night when the Dallas Mavericks defeated the Miami Heat in the sixth game of this year’s NBA championship.

Of course, most readers know that I’m the farthest thing from an avid sports fan, but this season’s contest piqued my interest. As I bantered with my students about the game as we cruised the Caribbean on our 8th grade class trip, I sensed that more was at stake than a mere game.

Like most Ohioans, I was familiar with basketball star LeBron James' ungracious departure from the team of his youth, the Cleveland Cavaliers last summer. For months before his decision James let the rumors swirl about whether he would stay with the Cavs or sign up with another team. The intense anticipation culminated in an unprecedented one-hour primetime special on ESPN entitled “The Decision.” Like Results Night on American Idol, James milked the full hour, before dramatically revealing to the world (and his former team) his decision to leave Cleveland and join his friends Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh on the Miami Heat. Together this powerhouse Trinity would chase the championships James had been unable to snag with his less talented teammates in Cleveland.

The Cavs were horrified, Cleveland was devastated, and basketball fans quickly divided into two camps. There were those that felt that James showed tasteless arrogance in the way he left his home team (all but the most die-hard Clevelanders respected his right to choose another team, but many objected to the self-indulgent way he unceremoniously dumped his former team before millions of viewers). And then there were those that felt that “King James” had the right to do what he had to do in whatever manner he chose to get a championship ring.

And for much of the year, it appeared that LeBron James had made the right move. Any hopes that Cleveland would somehow beat the odds and succeed without him quickly evaporated. Meanwhile, Miami proved a dynamic force in NBA basketball, muscling their way through the playoffs and into the finals against the Mavericks, a team with only one big star Dirk Nowitzki, oldsters such as Jason Kidd, and a bunch of relative unknowns. The outcome of this matchup seemed a foregone conclusion.

But something strange happened as the finals began. Miami won the first game at home, lost the second, then won the third game which was played in Dallas. Game Four, last Tuesday, is when I began watching—following the action an TV poolside on the deck of our cruise ship in port in Nassau, Bahamas. It was noted that LeBron was having difficulty, especially in the fourth quarter when his outsize talent was especially crucial. He just couldn’t seem to deliver when he was needed most. Was it nerves? The pressure of the game, the media, his own exorbitant expectations? No one seemed to know, not even LeBron himself. In a sense, it didn’t matter what the reason was—the fact was James was virtually scoreless in the fourth quarter of the fourth and fifth game. The games were close with both teams just points a part right down to the buzzer—had LeBron been himself, there’s no doubt Miami could have won.

By the time Game 6 rolled around and the action shifted back to Miami, Dallas definitely seemed to have the momentum and while the two teams remained close in the first three quarters, in the fourth, Dallas pulled away opening up a lead that Miami was powerless to chase down. The final score was 105-95.

Granted, if the Heat had won and James’ choices had been seemingly vindicated, as a teacher I still could have carved out a teachable moment of sorts. I could have made the argument that though LeBron might have won the basketball championship, in the game of life personal character is what really counts, blah, blah, blah. But the argument would have been a tough sell against the obvious tangible benefits LeBron would have been reaping.

I’m not here to make a judgment about LeBron James as a person. I don’t know him personally. I’m sure he has many fine qualities, and I dare not claim to know his heart. However, we can and should judge his actions, and we can decide whether his public image is worthy of emulation. This is the critical thinking we want to teach our students to engage in. The critical question is not: “Is LeBron James a good person?” The question is: “Were his actions good? Is his public persona worth imitating?” The lack of payoff for his choices makes answering those questions just that much easier.

Count this week’s win for the Dallas Mavericks, a win for teachers and parents as well.

This post by Andrew Sharp on the SB Nation website provides some great insights into why "King James" failed to live up to the hype as well as several links to some other great articles on the subject.

ElijahQuotes on Twitter

2011-05-28T17:47:00.000-07:00

So, I finally joined the Twitterverse. I did it in order to hear Mat Kearney's new single, "Hey Mama" which he had released on Twitter for 24 hours a few weeks back. After taking a listen, I did nothing else while I pondered what to do with my newfound outlet to the world. I always knew that if I ever began tweeting it would have to be something more than inane updates about "what I'm doing right now."

I finally hit upon an idea. When J and I were student missionaries in Chuuk, we both made a habit of writing down quotes--funny, insightful, and just plain weird things that our students and colleagues used to say. Those quotes, more than our full journal entries, do more than just about anything else to take us back to that special year of our lives. So, with that in mind, I've decided to use Twitter to record all the new, funny, and interesting things that our son says from time to time. It seems like every day he says something that makes us smile or laugh, something that indicates growth in his understanding of the world around him. Twitter, with it's 140 character limit, seemed the perfect place to share these little pearls from our Little Feller.

Now I know for many the musings of a toddler are about as inane as what I had for breakfast this morning, but that's okay. But for those that know and love Elijah and think you'd enjoy keeping up with what he has to say, I invite you to follow me on Twitter at @maycocksean.

The first two quotes are already up!

Family Worship

2011-05-07T17:00:00.000-07:00

Family worship on a Friday night. Winter 2011

The three amigos.

For the past six months or so we've been having semi-regular gatherings for food, fellowship, and worship on either Friday or Saturday evening. J and I had been talking about organizing something like this, something reminiscent of the Friday night missionary gatherings that were a part of our history back in the islands. I was particuarly inspired by the Stafford's Friday Night Haystacks tradition they'd established in Saipan. While we rarely went when we lived in Saipan, we did join them on Friday night when we visited last spring. I loved it. The simple but scrumptious food, the company of good friends and new acquaintances, the joyful singing, the kid-friendly worship thought. We need something like this back home in Ohio, I thought to myself.

Here in America, we're all so busy with our lives. We generally don't live clustered together in a mission compound as we did overseas; here getting together may main a drive of at least 20-25 minutes rather than a thirty second one from one apartment to another. There's not the automatic sense of camaraderie missionaries often feel that comes with being far from home and extended family in a different culture. Here, biological family is close at hand and there's little need to create a sense of family beyond that circle. In short, family worship beyond the nuclear unit seems impractical and unneccessary. But just because it isn't needed in quite the same way doesn't mean it can't be a rich blessing anyways. And indeed, we have been blessed each time we've found an opportunity to get together for family worship here in America.

The core group has been three couples, all with a history in the islands. There's Erwin and Rachel Capilitan. Erwin and Rachel met while she was serving as a student missionary in Saipan back in 2004-2005. Erwin, the brother of one of my former students, had just moved to Saipan from the Philippines to work. They eventually fell in love, moved to the States, and got married and settled down, ultimately right here in Columbus. Just a few months ago they welcomed the third member of their family, little Deagan.

J and Evelyn Carlos also met in the islands, when both were missionaries on the island of Chuuk. They were the first to relocate to the States, moving to the Columbus area from Guam, I think around 2003. Their son is almost exactly a year younger than our little Feller.

And then there's the three of us rounding out the group. On some occasions one couple will be missing from the gahtering, and on others the group as enlarged by others--visiting family members or other friends from the area. Whoever is there, the atmosphere is always warm, the food is always good, the music enthusiastic, the Spirit of the Lord present.

Story time with the boys.

These gatherings are all the more precious now because soon our group will lose three, as the Carlos family moves to the Chicago area this summer. They didn't plan to move, but circumstances made it necessary, and they are going trusting the God who has led them always in the past, to continue to do so as they head into a knew and unknown future. The Capilitans and Maycocks will continue to gather for worship from time to time after theyre gone, and perhaps others will become "regulars" in time. These gatherings by their very nature are all-inclusive after all, and there's always room for one more. But for now we'll treasure the Friday and Saturday nights we have left with the Carlos clan.

We'll miss J, Evelyn, and Benji of course, but we'll plan to visit every now and again--most likely on weekends, when once again we can gather for another family worship.

At the table with the Capilitans. The Carlos family was away that particular weekend, but Rachel's parents who were visiting were able to join us. Deagan was just a few weeks away from being born when this photo was taken.

Rachel reads to the boys during worship to end the Sabbath. Sabbath, April 30, 2011.

Our Feller loves the guitar. Here he "plays along" with J during worship at the Capilitan home, April 30, 2011.

Still Learning

2011-04-23T15:34:00.000-07:00

This entry began as some random notes I jotted to myself on my laptop while sitting through a belle plates rehearsal Mrs. Arthurs, the principal of our school, was conducting with my students. It was Friday night, the last night of the first annual Allegheny West Conference Arts Festival, and the entire experience had been one of learning—for students and staff.

What I’ve learned:

Talk less. Just talk less. I talk too much. The kids talk too much. We all talk too much. The more I talk, lecture, explain, cajole, threaten, the more I lose the kids. The gift of gab can be a curse. A few words of instruction, well-chosen are far more useful than long lectures or explanations. I’m as guilty as the students of wasting time with talking.

You’ve got to have your stuff together. Dead time is deadly. It’s better to do a few things well than to attempt too much and have it turn out poorly.

There comes a point when all you’re going to get is diminishing returns. Learn to recognize when that is and let it go.

Recognize when kids are (and aren’t) giving their best. Allow time for growth rather than blaming them for not listening. At the same time, don’t settle for subpar when the students can give more. Remember that most things are easier said than done.

It’s easy to criticize. It’s harder to do the work.

Follow through. Once you say something, you have to back it up. Understand that you will not want to do that when the time comes, but you must do it any way.

Focus on prevention, rather than the cure.

When speaking to students, think about how you would feel and how you would respond if someone were saying the same words to you and in the same tone of voice.

I’ve been learning a lot lately and I’ve been trying, with some success (and with a fair amount of failure too), to put what I’ve learned into practice. Two books have had a profound impact on the way that I approach my work as a teacher.

It wouldn’t be an overstatement that these two volumes have literally shaken the foundation of everything I thought I knew about teaching.

The first book is Soul Shapers: A Better Plan for Parents and Educators, by Jim Roy, a volume that focuses on radically different take on classroom management and discipline. In the book Roy seeks to draw parallels between William Glasser’s educational philosophy of Choice Theory and Ellen White’s counsels on education. (For readers that are not Seventh-day Adventist, Ellen White was one of the founders of our church, a prolific writer on topics from health to education, and considered by many Adventists to be a prophet). According to Roy, the crossroads of these two educational thinkers is that ultimately classroom’s must be “lead-managed” rather than “boss-managed.” Students cannot be (or perhaps more accurately) should not be forced to conform to the will of the teacher, but instead teachers should seek to encourage students to take ownership of their choices. There is much in Roy’s book that challenges me, and I’m not sure I entirely agree with all his conclusions, but I have also found a great deal of wisdom and truth in what he says and already I’m seeking to change the way I manage my classroom to reflect greater respect for my students free will and encourages them to truly take responsibility for themselves.

The second book is the textbook for the class I’m currently taking for my Master’s degree. Classroom Assessment: Supporting Teaching and Learning in Real Classrooms by Catherine Taylor and Susan Bobbitt Nolen is about techniques in assessing student learning but really it is about a new approach to learning—one that emphasizes authentic classroom experiences (tasks that have real-world application and importance) over rote learning, quality over quantity, and the use of assessment (often better understood as “testing” to the layperson) as a means of enhancing the quality of instruction. In this approach the test is not taken at the end, but essentially taken throughout and used not to judge the student, but to help the student succeed. This book and this class has been revelation to me. I’ve been a bit overwhelmed by the magnitude of it all. I look at some of my classes and feel like they need a complete overhaul. A lot of that will have to wait until next year, but at least some of what I’ve learned I’m beginning to try to put into practice right away.

Learning is a funny thing. It is one thing to intellectually comprehend something and another more difficult thing to actually put it into practice. But that process of learning leading to change is what makes any learning meaningful.

Together Again

2011-04-09T17:23:00.000-07:00

The whole family in July, 2009, the day we left Kimo behind for the States. This was the beginning of the Great Seperation.

The whole family in April 2010, when we returned to Saipan to visit. This was a reprieve for Kimo from the Great Seperation. The whole family in April 2011. This was the end of the Great Seperation. At long last we are all together again!

It's been just over a week now since Kimo rejoined the family and so far her adjustment continues to be seamless. She's into a regular schedule and eagerly looks forward to her brief visits outside in the early morning and early afternoon and her longer walk in the evening. Babs has been doing most of the Kimo walking duties during the week, but I took her out this morning and after church, and I have to say it's a very peaceful thing, this buisness of walking the dog. I'm usually constantly engaged in something. If' I'm not working then I'm watching TV, reading, blogging, surfing the web, browsing a magazine--something. I rarely leave time to just be with my thoughts. But walking Kimo provides me that time, and I have found it very soothing.

In just a week Kimo appears to have put on weight. Her coat is shiner and fuller in appearance. She's showing a little more energy, scratching at the door to go out like she used to do in Saipan (she's still learning that here in America there is no unsuprevised wandering of the compound at her leisure). The other day she and I had some fun playing together in the house. Elijah wasn't sure what was going on with all the racing up and down the hall and Kimo's playful yips.

Speaking of which, our son and our dog seem to be doing really well. The Feller has taken to Kimo like he has no other dogs. He really loves her and considers her "his dog." He likes to pet her, lie next to her and put his face next to hers. Kimo, for her part, will patiently endure as affections. She rarely walks away from him or tries to avoid him as she used to do in Saipan. We still keep a close eye on them whenever they are together and we are continuing to teach Elijah how to properly approach and treat Kimo.

It's good to be together again.

Babs, the Feller, and Kims out for a Sabbath afternoon walk in our neighborhood, last Sabbath, April 2, 2011, the day after Kimo's arrival. Elijah is clutching our mail, which we picked up while out on our walk.

Kimo enjoying a car ride.

Babs and Kimo. April 9, 2011.

What a difference a week makes! Spring has definitely sprung this past week, as evidenced here by the absence of coats, scarves, and hats that were present in the photo of these three from a week ago.

"Well my mom told me if anyone hits me, I should hit them back!"

2011-04-09T13:18:00.000-07:00

What do I say to this kid, in trouble for hitting another kid—usually because the other kid messed with him in some minor way? What I usually say is, “Well, there may be times when you feel you need to defend yourself, but you need to understand that our school is never going to have a policy that you can fight with another student if provoked and not receive any consequences. If you feel you have no other choice but to fight, you need to also understand and accept in advance the consequences that will come with that decision. If you’re man (or woman) enough to fight, you’re man enough to accept the consequences of fighting”

What I want to say is this:

Well, your mom is wrong. If mom is teaching you to lay out anyone who lays a hand on you, she's simply teaching you how to live a life where problems go unsolved and trouble dogs you at every step. No one needs to “teach” his or her child that if “anyone lays a hand on you, you hit them back.” Just about everyone, including kids, are smart enough to know when they are in real danger and will fight back in self-defense. A few years ago, a good friend of ours literally had to fight for her life for hours against an assailant, who she remarkably was able to fight off. Ordinarily she is one of the most gentle, unaggressive people I know. I’m reasonably certain her parents never taught her “hit back if any one lays a hand on you.” They didn’t need to. The instinct to protect one ’self is inborn. “Fight or flight” is the technical term, I believe.

We’re fortunate that in our school fights are rare occurrences, but often times the “mom/dad told me I should always defend myself” argument comes up during lower level disciplinary events, and when a schoolyard scuffle does break out, invariably this argument makes an appearance.

Okay sure, there may be times when a kid needs to stand up to a bully. But I find when parents take it upon themselves to teach their children to “hit back” the result is often hyper-aggressive, hyper-sensitive children who fly off the handle in “self-defense” at the slightest provocation and who are often bullies themselves. These are the kids scowling in the principal’s office yet again, because “Johnny pushed me” or “Jane got in my face” or “Jason was calling me names.” These are the kids shouting down the hall at other kids to “say it again and see what happens.” These are kids that are as likely to throw the first punch as put up fists to defend themselves. Children often times aren’t mature enough to discern when to apply their parents’ advice to “handle their business.” Dad might be thinking this is to be applied if his son gets jumped by some thugs on the street, while “Junior” assumes this means to lash out if another student bumps him.

If parents seriously believe their children are under constant threat of physical harm then the least they can do is provide their child with proper self-defense training, whether martial arts, or even basic fighting skills. But to send a child off with little else but a supposedly street-savvy admonition to hit back can only lead to trouble.

I understand the impulse, though, as a parent. No one wants to see or imagine their child hurt by someone else, picked on, or bullied. On occasion my two year old son will report that one of his little playmates at the daycare hit him. I have to admit telling him “Well, if he hits you, you just him back” sounds a lot tougher and more effective than the wimpy-sounding “Well, if he hits you, you just tell Miss Rose.” But when I put my ego aside, I realize that except in the most extreme circumstances (like my friend’s experience above), “telling Miss Rose” is exactly the appropriate response in civilized society. For us adults, “Miss Rose” is better known as the police. We deal with aggressive situations while still following the law. In the real world, the law generally frowns upon the kind vigilante justice some of us expect our kids to mete out. So for now, I’ll keep telling my son to take his concerns to the proper authorities. My boy, like most toddlers—and most of us for that matter--is willing enough to hit if angered. There is no need for me to encourage or teach it.

The Perfect Dog

2011-04-02T08:48:00.001-07:00

After 42 hours of travel, Kimo is finally home here in America

We always felt that Kimo was the perfect dog, but we never expected her to be. . .well, this perfect. She came to us perfectly housebroken without a day of training by her previous owner; she didn't chew up things; didn't bark incessantly; didn't bite; wasn't overly hyper. She was more civilized than a lot of people. But surely, I theorized, a transPacific flight will put her into a state of severe emotional distress and all those wonderful traits will evaporate. I had steeled myself for the worst, and expected days and weeks of stressful retraining before she gradually readjusted.

Exactly one year ago, we piled on a plane and flew to the other side of the world to see Kimo (among others) in Saipan. This year, it was her turn to make the trip. Babs took this video of Kimo in her kennel, just after Babs arrived to pick her up at the airport.

I couldn't be more happy to be totally wrong. I've joyfully conceded that Babs was right all along. Kimo's adjustment has been essentially perfect. Her travel time, including an overnight stay in Detroit was 42 hours. She arrived in good spirits and extremely excited to see Babs. Her kennel appeared unsoiled and it would appear she "held it" that entire time, and gratefully relieved herself--for a long time, Babs reports--once released from the kennel here in Columbus. Since then she seems to have automatically continued with her housetrained ways even though now we have to to take her out, rather than just letting her out to take care of her business at her leisure.

Kimo finally gets her potty break in a grassy area by the airline cargo office where Babs picked her up Friday morning, April 1, 2011. She arrived about 8:30 Friday morning and Babs was able to take her after completing all the paperwork and such by around noon.

Kimo's health is actually quite good, all things considered. Her skin is in pretty bad shape, but should improve with time. Babs took her for a deep-cleaning at Petsmart after picking her up at the airport and then to the vet for a check-up. The vet put her on a couple medications to deal with the infections in her ears and to clear up a couple of other issues. Babs says that Kimo charmed people everywhere they went.

Kimo looking elegant and graceful as always while waiting at the veterinarian's office.

Her temperament seems virtually unchanged despite what must have surely been a very confusing and disorienting journey for her. She has seemed a bit more tired than usual but not sluggish or lethargic. She's a bit more clingy than is typical, but not excessively so. She watches Barbara carefully whenever she moves towards the door, and I think she was very relieved that we took her with us to return the rental car this morning (We wented an SUV to pick her up from the airport, as the kennel was too big to fit in our car). By and large she seems about the same as she's always been. As I type this, she sits curled up on the carpet by the dining room table while Elijah plays with his play-doh in his booster chair at the table.

Kimo hanging out with the family in her new home, Sabbath, April 2, 2011

Our one "episode" was a brief spate of barking last night when our neighbors returned late and tromped up the stairs past our front door and then creaked about upstairs. I posted a rather panicked message on a dog lovers thread on Interference where some regulars have been giving me some dog advice. But it turned out that the barking ended after a few minutes and there have been no further incidences since. And that incident itself wasn't actualy unsual for Kimo, as her one vice had always been barking furiously any time someone approached the door of our home in Saipan.

And so it appears, at least so far, that Kimo will make a smooth adjustment to her new life in here in America, a world away from the tropical island where she was born. We are glad to have our family whole again, and even though we now have new responsibilities (and expenses--yikes!) added to our already busy life, we don't mind. Kimo asks so little of us as it is--to give her what we can is no sacrifice at all.

Welcome home, Kimo.

Kimo's number one advocate looking quite pleased with herself. . .as well she should. Babs always believed that Kimo could handle the journey here and that she'd be all right once she got here. And to her credit she did virtually all of the work on this side of world to get her here, working in tandem with Virle in Saipan. It must have been just like the old days for Virle and Babs working together again. And since Kimo's arrived she's taken the lead in her care as well.

From Magic Kingdom to Rainbow's End: The Disney Princess Half Marathon

2011-03-09T20:32:00.000-08:00

My account of running the Disney Princess Half Marathon on Sunday, February 27, 2011 with my cousin Yvette and her friend Carrie: A series of vignettes accompanied by selected lyrics from the songs on my run playlist.

Carrie, Yvette and I at the finish line of the Disney Princess Half Marathon. Sunday,February 27, 2011.

Not the Easy Thing

It’s 3:02 A.M. and I’m finding it hard to get up. The alarm went off moments ago, and with only four hours of sleep, the simple act of getting out of bed seems far more daunting then running 13.1 miles. How much easier it would be to just roll over and go back to sleep. But today is about the hard things, not the easy ones. Today is about the hard journey from grief and loss to remembrance and healing. Today is about the hard work of cancer research—hard work that takes money, a lot of it, for a long time, until a cure is found. Today is about running to raise money to fund the work, all in memory of a woman who worked hard for years upon years just to stay alive. Today is about 13.1 long, hard miles, a token distance in comparison to the hard turns life—and death—can bring. In light of this, getting out of bed at three in the morning turns out to be pretty easy.

“Love is not the easy thing. . .it’s the only baggage you can bring, all that you can’t leave behind."
--“Walk On” by U2

A Sort of Homecoming

Some forty minutes later, I’m driving the near empty streets of my hometown. An orange crescent moon hangs low in the sky. The street-lit palmettos and live oaks draped in Spanish moss remind me of high school, out late with friends, up to adolescent hijinks or buzzing down to Tampa on a whim. In those days I hated running. In those days my family was an annoyance, a duty that kept me from my all-important friends. In those days, I found Orlando the most unimaginative place possible—couldn’t wait to get out and live somewhere that hadn’t been Disneyfied, somewhere that had a history. And now, here I am 37 years old, pumped up to go running. At least one old high school friend will be among the throng of runners, and while I’m glad I’ll be able to see her, I’m here for my family—for my cousin, for my aunt—and thankful for the weekend, short though it’s been, with mom and brother and sister. And as I race along I-4, I muse to myself: This wouldn’t be such a bad place to live.

“Here I am, back where I began. . .all of these roads that lead me to roam lead me back home, back where I began”
--“Where I Began” by Caedmon’s Call

Zoo Station

4:23 A.M. The first thing I see when I get out of the car in the parking lot of Epcot Center is a scrawny Asian man in a muscle t-shirt (the ones with massive biceps, imposing pecs, and six-pack abs painted on), Captain America boxers, and large cartoony boxing gloves. Right away I know this will be no ordinary half marathon. I follow the Asian-American hero , and join the crowd streaming in the direction of the thumping music and white bag-dropoff tents. There are tutus & tiaras everywhere, sequins and sparkles, matching pink outfits, Snow White in spandex running shorts. Some are even running in full-on Cinderella ball gowns. I hear there are only six hundred men running out of something like fifteen thousand participants. More than a few of these princes, as the race organizers call them, are wearing tutus themselves; big, strapping football player types, strutting around in tulle and glitter. I know of at least two fellows that came dressed as frogs. In this carnival atmosphere, I feel rather plain in my San Francisco Marathon t-shirt and black running shorts. But the fun is infectious and the open friendliness among the runners warms me against the morning chill.

“I’m ready. I’m ready for what’s next. I’m ready to duck, I’m ready to dive, I’m ready to say I’m glad to be alive. I’m ready.”
--“Zoo Station” by U2

Princesses gather for a photo at the staging area for the half marathon (Photo taken from Yvette's iphone)

The Gathering

5:10 A.M. It seems like we’ve walked a couple miles already and we haven’t even gotten to the starting line! An endless ocean of runners has crept along a lengthy route towards the starting corrals. I’ve been texting my cousin Yvette Saliba and long-lost high school friend Pamela Foard Jansen pretty much since I’ve arrived, but so far I’ve not seen either one. I finally reach the corrals—here the sea parts, with rivers flowing to my left towards the first corrals and to my right towards the later ones. Yvette and Pamela both text me that they are at their respective corrals. I peel off to the left—I’m assigned to Corral C, but I won’t be going there. I’ll be running with Yvette in Corral F, but first I want to touch base with Pamela—a friend I haven’t seen in over fifteen years. She’s waiting at the entrance to Corral D with her sister-in-law: a friendly greeting, it’s been a long time, a big hug, look at you—we both look so different, childhood has long been left behind. We make small talk, and promise to catch up after the race. It reminds me of another crowd, more numerous than the sands of the sea. There’ll be reunions there too—friends and family we haven’t seen in such a long, long time. Perhaps, we’ll barely recognize each other then too, having been changed in a twinkling of an eye—no longer children and yet forever young. We’ll promise to catch up later, because then, we’ll have all the time in the world.

Me with high school chum Pamela Foard Jansen. This photo was taken when we met up again after the race.

“All God’s children of love and light, every heart will be unified. . .on the day of the Gathering”
--“The Gathering” by City On a Hill

Run Together

5:15 A.M. In F corral with Yvette and her purple-clad Team In Training comrades. I’d begun to worry of late that perhaps I’d feel out of place—that Yvette would have her close knit team of TNT runners and I would be the fifth wheel. But Yvette is so genuinely glad to see me, and her fellow runners, each sporting on their shirts the name of someone they are running to honor, make me feel right at home. Perhaps these especially know that life is too short to leave any one out in the cold. Yvette and I lean on each other for warmth and we all pass the time in friendly conversation. Within half an hour the first wave of runners is off, and we begin to inch towards the starting line. Yvette and her friend Carrie leave the corral and race off for one last bathroom break. I look back anxiously for them as we continue to move towards the starting line and I move closer to the barricades at the edge of the corral where they can see me when they come back—I want to be sure they are not left behind. And this is how we’ll run. Looking back, making sure the other is okay, taking care of each other. We won’t leave each other behind.

Yvette and I hanging out at the starting line.

“Come take my hand, we’ll walk this road together”
--“Not Afraid” by Eminem

I Want to Run

6:20 A.M. We’re off in a burst of fireworks and a cloud of fairy dust. Immediately I encounter difficulty. My right foot is hurting. The top of my foot feels pinched as if my shoe is tied too tightly. I’m not hobbling yet, but I can’t imagine that I won’t be soon if it hurts this much and I haven’t yet run a mile. I didn’t expect this. I confess, I thought this run would be easy--a mere half-marathon, running at a much slower pace than I had trained for. This would surely be a walk in the park, a no-sweat lark. It would be easy. But now, quite unexpectedly, 13.1 miles feels very long indeed. I joke to Yvette and Carrie that it looks like I’m going to need those inspirational songs on my ipod more than I thought. I want to run, but I will crawl if I must.

“I will hold out hope. . .I will find strength in pain.”
--“The Cave” by Mumford & Sons

In the crush of the crowd as we move towards the starting line (Photo from Yvette's iphone).

The Foolish and the Wise

The five foolish virgins. That’s what Yvette, in reference to the Biblical parable, calls the women who stop off for photo opportunities with a bare-chested Aladdin and square jawed John Smith. It seems terribly nefarious of Disney to plant this endless array of distractions along the race route—a full size pirate ship, with a motley crew of Caribbean pirates led by a very authentic looking Johnny Depp impersonator, a pumpkin carriage with Prince Charming standing by, male gymnasts bounding about on a trampoline, a stock car attended by rakish racecar drivers. Gathered around each of these are lines of runners waiting to have their pictures taken. But all we can think about is the 2000 plus runners who ended up being cut from last year’s race barely four miles in, because they fell behind Disney’s required pace and were stopped by the dreaded fence they pull across the course to blockade slowpoke runners. We remember the yellow flags that pop up to warn runners that they are behind the required pace, and the buses that swoop in to scoop up runners that have been disqualified. I joke that they are probably driven by Disney villains, though I doubt even Disney would be that cruel. Of course not everyone stops for photo ops. Just an hour after the race began we see the first runners coming back with just a few miles to go until the finish. Somehow I doubt these women--lean-muscled with grim looks of determination on their faces, powering forward at unbelievable speeds, unimpeded by foolish tutus and party-favor decorations--took the time to stop for a picture with Goofy and his golf cart. We might not be as hardcore as these serious athletes, but we are determined to be as wise they are, determined not to be distracted, determined to finish the race no matter the cost.

“It’s a beautiful day. Don’t let it slip away.”
--“Beautiful Day” by U2

I don't think this is the same Pirates of the Caribbean ship that we saw along the course. There are some pretty good pictures out there of the ship and the pirates, the handsome princes along the way and so on, but most of them were posted by other bloggers who ran the Princess half that day and I felt bad to use their personal photos without permission (especially since we were somewhat critical of our fellow runners in that regard).

The Magic Kingdom.

Five miles in and we enter the Magic Kingdom. I haven’t been here since I was a kid. The Salibas would drive down from the frigid Michigan winters at Christmas time and a trip to Disney World was often part of the schedule of holiday events for the family. The last time I’d arrived at the gates of the Kingdom, I’d probably piled out of the Saliba’s blue-toned GMC van, excited at the prospect of a day of Disney. The last time I’d run these fantasyland streets, I was probably racing to be first in line at Pirates of the Caribbean—the animatronics rides were always my favorites. I got sick on Thunder Mountain Railroad and dared not even consider Space Mountain. The Pirates, and even the nerdy Hall of the Presidents were more my speed. Yvette was there, but I barely noticed her running about with my kid sister and her other cousin Nicole, busy as I was trailing her older brothers William and Nabih with my brother Vince. Uncle Slimen had the chunky VHS video camera to capture the memories. Aunt Patsy kept us laughing with her wit. Grandma, ever the thrifty one, brought contraband egg sandwiches repacked in the bread bags. Uncle Roland and Uncle Robert were cool as always. Aunt Colleen was as pretty as any Disney princess. Mom was there to comfort and care. And Grandpa, the patriarch, presided over the whole brood with dignity and wisdom. Disney was fun, but the best part was being with family.

Running through the Magic Kingdom

And now here I am again. So much has changed. Everything seems smaller than I remember, even the centerpiece Sleeping Beauty castle. There is no blue GMC van, no VHS camera, no egg salad sandwiches. The family has grown up and grown old. Aunt Patsy and Grandpa live only in our memories. But some things haven’t changed. Yvette is still here, running beside me, no longer the kid cousin but instead a good friend. Running through Disney is fun, but the best part still is being with family.

"This was not your dream
But you always believed in me.
I want to go home. "
--“Home” by Michael Buble

Bridge

"All your life you were only waiting for this moment to arrive.
Blackbird, fly."

I don’t suppose I ever knew Aunt Patsy as well as I feel as I do now, as we leave Frontierland behind, and the course winds through the backstage areas of the Magic Kingdom. That’s no slight to Aunt Patsy—it’s just how our family is. We are close in that we always make time to be together—Sabbath lunches for those that live in town, regular holiday gatherings for those who don’t. We are close in that we look out for one another—just about everyone has shared a roof with someone else in the family at one time or another. But beyond the immediate families there is little in the way of heart-to-heart talks and deep sharing. We keep things light, we laugh a lot, but the troubles and heartaches are passed along in respectful whispers, in third person.

"Do you remember when we used to sing. . . "

I had asked mom the night before if she knew of any her sister’s favorite songs that I could add to my playlist for the run. These are the songs she gave me—“Blackbird” by the Beatles, “Brown-Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison, and “Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Simon & Garfunkel, and I’ve grouped them together to create a moment of reflection in the midst of this run. These songs. . .these songs are the bridge. They give me a glimpse of the heart of Aunt Patsy—a parent’s heart, something I can now very much relate to. Like her, I know the heartbreaking joy that comes at watching your brown-eyed child dancing, laughing, and playing innocently. I know what it is to hope to see your child fly. And I know too the longing to comfort and protect. And in knowing all this, I feel that I know her.

"When you’re weary, feeling small
When tears are in your eyes
I will dry them all
I’m on your side
Oh, when times get hard
Like a bridge over troubled waters
I will lay me down"

Though this entire run is a tribute to her memory, we’ve not dwelt long on the reason for the run. I can imagine Yvette’s mother would have had little patience with13.1 miles of teary eyes and gloomy hearts. And Yvette, ever stalwart and cheerful in spite of her loss, would not have been one to indulge her sadness that way. But at this moment, with Aunt Patsy’s favorite brown-eyed girl trotting beside me unawares, my eyes mist over and I allow myself to miss her.

“I see you now and then in dreams. Your voice sounds just like it used to. I know you better than I knew you then. All I can say is I love you.”
--“Treasure of the Broken Land” by Mark Heard, Performed by Chagall Guevera

Beautiful Day

We are entering the long stretch, slogging through miles 7, 8 and 9 on Floridian Way, heading back towards EPCOT. The crowd has barely thinned since the race began. We are constantly jockeying for position, passing or being passed. We run on the grass. We dodge and feint to avoid colliding with other runners. The sun has risen. The morning grows warm. It’s going to be a beautiful day.

The course

“It’s a long road, baby, running away.”
--“Here We Go” by Mat Kearney

Carrie On

Ten, eleven miles behind us and it’s obvious who the real hero is. I’ll be frank. My foot is feeling much better, and the truth of it is, this run has proved to be physically pretty easy for me. Yvette seems to be doing well and is on track to meet her goals. But the hero has to be Carrie. She amazes me. It’s not just her will to keep putting one foot in front of the other. It’s not just the way she digs deep to start running at the end of the too-short minute of walking. It’s not just that she’s on track to blow all her previous records out of the water—that she’s moving faster for longer than she ever has. That’s all run of the mill distance running heroics.

No, it’s that she calls on her training as a nurse and stops to comfort and encourage a woman who’s panicking. It’s that she thinks to pick up Tylenol at the medical station because she knows my foot has been hurting. It’s that she’s worried that she might be holding us back when she could be celebrating her own achievements. It’s that she’s here, alone—her family all back in Connecticut—running for one of her patients. This run is hard for her—it would be well within her rights to forget about everyone else and focus on just getting through this. But she keeps looking out for others, not just herself.

What an honor to run with a woman like this! I don’t know who came in first, but I know with a doubt who has won the day.

Carrie, on the left, with Yvette and me at the finish line. Strong work, Carrie!

"Every hand that reaches out, every hand that reaches out to offer peace
Every simple act of mercy, every step to Kingdom Come
All the hope in every heart will speak what I have done
For as long as I shall live I will testify to love
I will be the witness in the silences when words are not enough "
--“Testify to Love” by Avalon

Over the Rainbow

9:12 A.M. It’s like the end of the rainbow. You can’t quite see it, though you know it’s there. It’s one blind corner after another as we leave the iconic EPCOT globe. Disney employees are shouting encouragement: “You’re almost there!” It’s that point in the run, when you know that you’re going to finish. That goal that seemed as ephemeral and impossible as some magic kingdom on the other side of the rainbow back at the start, at mile 5, and 7, 8, and 9 miles is now not just possible but definite. But still, you can’t see it. It’s the layout of the course—there’s no long, open approach to the finish. So we are left to wonder, Will it be around this corner? No? Then perhaps this one? It’s disappointing not to find the finish, but only a little. Because we know it’s there, only moments away.

Finally, we turn and the finish is in front of us. But I almost miss it, because I’m captured by a massive handmade sign: “Congratulations Yvette, Carrie, and Sean!” I’m blown away—truly surprised and touched. Who are these people? How did they know that I would be here—I’m not part of the TNT group—and yet someone told someone and someone took the time to add my name to that sign. Without question it is the most precious part of a very beautiful day. I’m so grateful to Yvette’s friends for that gift.

Posing with our sign. Thanks to all who cheered like crazy for us!

And now the finish looms ahead. We clasp hands, run as one, with cheers all around us, and it’s over. We made it. We walk now, arms around each other’s shoulder, comrades of the journey. The hard miles, the months of training, the struggle is past. The dreams that we dared to dream really did come true and now all we feel is: joy.

At the end. Look carefully for us in the crowd, we're hand in hand.

"Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
In the Land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby
Once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dared to dream
Really do come true
Someday I’ll wish upon a Star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
When troubles melt like lemon drops
A way above the chimney tops
That’s where you’ll find me
Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that dared to dream
Really do come true.
If happy little bluebirds fly
Above the rainbow
Why oh, why can’t I."

The end of the rainbow. You can’t quite see it, but you know it’s there.

Yvette and I at the finish line of the Disney Princess Half Marathon. Sunday, February 27, 2011

***************************************
The Complete Playlist
A wonderful collection of inspiring songs –the perfect soundtrack for a run to the end of the rainbow.
1. Where the Streets Have No Name—U2
2. Magnificent—U2
3. Zoo Station—U2
4. Today—Smashing Pumpkins
5. Not Afraid-Eminem
6. Float On—Modest Mouse
7. Billy the Kid-Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers
8. A Sort of Homecoming-U2
9. The Cave-Mumford & Sons
10. Hello Hurricane—Switchfoot
11. You Set Me Free-Michelle Branch
12. Gloria-U2
13. High of 75-Relient K
14. Elevation—U2
15. Don’t Break My Heart--Keawahi
16. Free Fallin’--Tom Petty
17. Walk On--U2
18. I Will Follow--U2
19. Lonesome Day—Bruce Springsteen
20. Beautiful Day/Srgt.Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band/Blackbird-U2 (Live in Japan)
21. Brown-Eyed Girl--Van Morrison
22. Bridge Over Troubled Water--Simon & Garfunkel
23. Home--Michael Buble
24. Here We Go—Mat Kearney
25. Undeniable--Mat Kearney
26. Closer to Love--Mat Kearney
27. Where I Began—Caedmon’s Call
28. Rejoice—U2
29. Testify to Love—Amazon
30. Once Again-Matt Redman
31. When I Think of You—Michael W. Smith (feat. The African Children’s Choir)
32. Mighty to Save—Hillsong United
33. All the Way My Savior Leads Me—Rich Mullins
34. Say (What You Need to Say)—John Mayer
35. Kite-U2
36. One Tree Hill—U2 (Live in Japan)
37. Treasure of the Broken Land—Chagall Guevera
38. The Gathering—City on a Hill
39. Hosanna-Kirk Franklin
40. Pride (In the Name of Love)—U2
41. Lifetime—Mat Kearney
42. Somewhere Over the Rainbow—Eva Cassidy

That Guy

2011-02-13T08:18:00.000-08:00

That Guy look familiar?

I never wanted to be That Guy. And yet there I was, yammering away on my cellphone, most likely driving way too fast. It’s a pity I couldn’t have been sporting a luxury sedan and an expensive suit, as long as I was already filling the stereotype of heedless motorist. I saw the pedestrian in the crosswalk in plenty of time though, and came to a not quite screeching halt to let her have the right of way before continuing my right turn.

The pedestrian, a dark-haired woman probably in her late forties wearing a large coat and mint-green backpack, shook her head disdainfully and mouthed “Put away the phone” as she crossed in front of me.

“I know, I know” I replied, though the phone remained glued to my ear. J was in midsentence and I didn’t want to cut him off. Once the woman was safely past, I drove on, and hurriedly ended the conversation. The incident had been just a moment and yet I couldn’t shake it. The woman’s smug sanctimony was all the more infuriating because she was right. Of course I shouldn’t have been driving while talking. Reprimands are never fun—they sting our pride and prick our conscience. But it was more than the correction that bothered me—it was the sense of having been misunderstood.

The woman’s look said it all: “I know your kind, on the road, in the restaurant, at the grocery checkout line, recklessly disregarding the safety and comfort of others so you can shout your all-important conversation into your flashy smart phone”. And I wanted to cry out in my defense: “No, you don’t understand! I’m not that guy. I usually don’t talk on the phone while driving or in the restaurant. This is not who I am!”

The truth is none of us want to be “That Guy.” The Cell-Phone Talker, the Cheap Tipper, the Rude Driver, the Indulgent Parent with the kid running amok, the Braggart, the Busybody, the Jerk. We view “That Guy” with disgust, disdain, and if we’re feeling particularly generous and not in immediate danger, with condescending pity. And yet, at one point or another we are all “That Guy.” We want to describe ourselves in terms of our best behavior, but to the strangers we pass, we are often defined by our ill-chosen actions of the moment. Remember, when we encounter “That Guy” that his or her actions in that single moment are likely not the sum of who he or she is. We don’t know their story, the good and bad they’ve done. We don’t know the state of their hearts, or what burdens they may be carrying.

So how can we avoid being “That Guy”? Obviously, being more careful and courteous in our behavior and lessening the exceptions to rules of safety and respect we claim to follow are helpful first steps. But I think recognizing that we too can be “That Guy” lessens the likelihood of it actually happening as often. After all, it’s usually those least aware of their own fallibility that are harshest in their judgments of others and are thus most often classically “That Guy”—impatient, critical, demanding.

It’s important to remember everyone is either the tailgater or the slowpoke in the fast lane—it all depends on your perspective. After all, rather than defensively judging the woman in the crosswalk I must extend the same grace to her that I desired for myself. If we can take a spirit of grace, patience, and humility with us as we encounter fellow travelers on the road of life I think we’ll find we see less of “That Guy.” And we won’t be him either.