Traditions



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

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

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 of the slow and the speedy is the same.  In so many areas of endeavor it seems that it’s easy for the pros and a clumsy struggle for the novice.  But not so in distance running.  The top shelf runners may be unbelievably fast, but they work as hard as the first-time marathoner-- if not harder--to do what they do.  Just look at the faces of the runners far ahead of the pack—serious, determined, intense with tremendous effort and the will to keep going.   Running is remarkably democratic. Like many things in life, everyone can do it.  But every-one—Olympic athlete and couch potato 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 it the going gets tough.  Put in the work in order to reap the reward.  Push yourself past what you think is possible.  These are the life lessons I hoped to impart when I gave a few of my students what I now call the Buckeye Challenge.

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

“Do you realize how hard you would have to work to even have a 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 you could 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 the annual Buckeye Classic 10K Run, and he readily accepted.   I talked to his parents on the phone that night and they were supportive.  I began to 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 of conversations with him—about the value of that which is not easy.  Today we live in a culture of convenience.  We want things quick, easy, and entertaining.  My students have been impacted by the values of our society as much as anyone.  They bow down to the Altar of Easy without a second thought.  If it’s easy it’s good.  If it’s difficult it’s bad.  They love to shout out the right answer, to win the game, get the recognition, but easily become bored or discouraged at the effort and less than exciting process required to truly understand, to develop real skill, to apply themselves in order to earn the accolades.   They see sports heroes and media celebrities for whom everything seems to come easily.   I shared with “EK” this mashup of a Michael Jordan ad and Lebron James footage, Mike’s dialogue epitomizes the misperception so many of us have today about how success is achieved.

“EK” wanted in, and I was ready to take him on, but it took him a little longer to get his family on board.  In the meantime, a student I’ll call “B.SteaLth” became the second member of my little crew.  He doesn’t say much (to me any way—with his pals, it’s a different story!), so I was surprised when 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 days a week at nearby Innis Park.  “EK” joined us a week or two after we’d begun training, after he finally got the go-ahead from his folks.  At the outset, it was tough—tougher than I’d imagined.   During the weekdays we only ran for thirty minutes, but at first we couldn’t even hit two miles in that time.  I knew the boys might be a little out of shape, but I wasn’t prepared for gasping pleas for a break after just a few minutes of running.  At first I thought we could run straight through, but when I realized that they weren’t up to it, I reduced the time to run 10 minutes, walk one minute.  Even that proved to be too much, and we cut it back to run five minutes and walk one—a (barely) manaegble task for our crew of new runners.

There was much to learn, and not just for the three boys.  I was quickly realizing that talking tough about hard work was a lot easier than actually doing the hard work.  The running at this pace was a breeze for me, but the coaching was proving to be much harder.  It turned out I too had fallen sway to the Hollywood promise of easy gains.  I imagined myself transforming these boys in one fell swoop, as they quickly picked up the lessons of discipline, effort, and focus with me providing Oscar-worthy inspirational coaching.  I realized I needed patience.  I needed to practice the discipline of encouragement and positive thinking even when it appeared we were making no progress at all.  I needed to push the boys, yes, but to achieve their best, not mine.  It was tough, and I realized that I would grow as much, if not more than the boys through this experience.

And it was a growing experience for all of us.  I felt I grew to know the boys better on our thirty minute  conditioning runs after school and on the longer distance runs on the weekend.   I watched the boys grow to learn the importance of pacing and saw their stamina grow as well.  Slowly but surely the boys were finding their groove, beginning to complain less and less about being tired.  They were starting to discover the reward in the run.  All three boys are in great physical shape—“The Win” in particular is quite fast in a sprint.  Kids this age can often do much more than adults can, so with these boys it was all about the head game for them.  They hadn’t been used to pushing themselves mentally, but they were learning and growing fast.  Every run they did better than they had before.   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 he didn’t even realize how long he’d been running.

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

Race day dawned dry and chilly, but warmer than expected.  It was good running weather.  I picked up the three boys and we drove out to Highbanks—their families would be there later to cheer them at the finish line.  I was so excited for them to be a part of a real race, complete with bib numbers, timing chips, and complimentary technical t-shirts.  They were excited too.  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 us off at the start line, a gesture of support and encouragement to me and the boys that meant a lot.

In no time at all, it was time for the race to begin.  With a blast of the air horn, we were off.   “B.SteaLth” and “EK” quickly wove through the masses and soon disappeared from sight.  I shook my head and chuckled to “The Win” “We’ll see them again soon enough.”  I was only partially right.  “The Win” kept a decent pace, and though he struggled at some points, he never quit.  He kept going.  To help motivate him, I picked another runner whose pace I thought he could match and perhaps even exceed, and told him to make it his goal to keep up with her and eventually pass her. He met the challenge, trading leads with her for much of the race before finally pulling into 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 the rest 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 for the finish, with “Win” pulling away to best “EK” and I by just a few seconds.    We had finished in an hour and twenty eight minutes, beating our goal time by just over a minute and running faster than they ever had in training.  As for “B.SteaLth”?  This brother outran us all.  He finished almost a full fifteen 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 runner during our last few training runs, but this performance exceeded my wildest expectations.

And yet, “SteaLth” had done no more or and no less than his peers.  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 they all said it was “terrible.”  But they said it with a touch of pride.  Not the cocky trash-talk pride one often sees strutting about in the school yard, but the quiet pride of having done something really hard and finished it.

“I feel like I really accomplished something,” “EK” declared at 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. Lee and her son “Supremo” (who is a classmate of the three runners) all gathered at Tim Hortons to celebrate the boys’ accomplishment. 

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

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

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

--Hebrews 12:2b

Band of Sisters



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

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

But this year, something has shifted.  What I thought was reserved for the mission field has blossomed right here—a sense of camaraderie and closeness, and the rewards of a shared struggle.  Once again, I have sisters in the fight (sisters because, as in Saipan, my fellow colleagues are entirely women; for those that assume such fellowship belongs only to men, I can attest that a man can find solidarity among sisters as well as brothers).  We’ve talked about it some, and we all sense this new unity, though we can’t put our finger on exactly what brought it about.   

As I reflect I see a couple of things that might have brought us together in a special way this school year.  First the enrollment at CAA has skyrocketed, and with the blessings come the challenges of increase.  And as the challenges have increased, so has our individual and corporate sense of need for the grace of God to meet these challenges.  We are all praying more, and sharing our struggles with one another and lifting 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 we have church in that circle.  The spiritual insights shared, the words of encouragement, the Spirit-soaked prayers, and just that sense that we’re not alone, that we’re in this with each other and with God serves as a morning pick-me better than any cup of coffee and fuel that keeps me going throughout the day.  Despites the recalcitrant students and the jam-packed schedule these moments of morning watch together remind me that God is on the move in our school, moving in us and through us to reach our students with His love.

Another thing that has bound us together this year is our decision to start gathering on a regular basis outside of the school setting.  On the first Sabbath of each month we gather with our families at one of our homes for Sabbath lunch and an afternoon 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 and absence of workweek pressure.  We’ve only had 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 again be in the company of sisters; to sense that someone has your back.  I know that I can depend on my sisters to let one of my students sit in her classroom when a kid needs to not be in my room for a while.  I can count on them for a wise word of counsel and an “I’ll pray for you” that I know is not merely a courteous expression but a promise that whatever burden I bear she’ll help me carry before the Lord.  I know that they will be patient and flexible, always willing to make changes to accommodate the crazy classroom contingencies that are forever popping up.  I know that they’ll understand what I’m dealing with, what I’m rejoicing in, what I’m anxious about, because they are going through the same things I am.

This week when I jump back into the 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. Arthurs right 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 one another in honor; not lagging behind in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord; rejoicing in hope, persevering in tribulation, devoted to prayer. . . .Bear one another’s burdens and thus fulfill the Law of Christ. . .Therefore encourage one another, and build up one another, just as you are also doing.”

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

  

Late

It's 10:12 P.M.


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


Undoubtedly it will be 11 by the time I go to bed, if not later (and that's assuming that I decide not to finish this blog tonight) and as a result I will likely 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 forever failing to do so. I live in a perpetual state of tardiness. Whether it's work or 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 to do, I can't seem to beat it. One late arrival invariably leads to a string of further tardy appearances that can literally stretch on for days.


Perhaps part of the problem is that I haven't been bored since 1994. My life is 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 I constantly double and triple book myself, foolishly hoping that I'll finally be able to get it all done. I also tend to believe that I can do more than I can in 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 the space of an hour to hour and a half). Another issue is that I rarely have leisure time, and so will often take it when I shouldn't, just because I can't bear 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 about it. I'd reflect on it more now, but as it stands, I've got to run. Yep, you guessed 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 ten minutes late there can snowball into an avalanche of lateness that can alter the trajectory not just an entire day, but an entire week.  I apparently never saved that addition because when I opened up the file this evening all I had was the material from two weeks ago.  I just don’t have the energy to rewrite that rather disheartening vignette.  And besides to do so, would send me to bed late yet again and I really am trying to break the cycle of tardiness in my life.


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


I’m not there yet, but in the struggle to get a handle on this hectic life here 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)

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

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

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

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

--Sinead O'Connor