Heroes Reception Hits New Heights

Me with one of my heroes, former student and soon to U.S. Marine Corps officer, Keisha Paez.  As has been my pattern lately, I have virtually no pictures of the evening. I was so busy running around "managing" the event that I didn't think to take photos.  From now on, I'm assigning someone to do the picture taking at events like this.  Thanks to Babs for taking this photo.

My first goal for this year's heroes reception was to take it up a notch from the first one.  I want each year to be better than the last until we achieve a level of quality that is worthy of the men and women we seek to honor.

We accomplished that.  The kids beat themselves up over all the things that went wrong, and I too felt it could have gone more smoothly, but on balance a lot of things came together really well. 

This event was bathed in prayer.  In the week prior as the stress of this huge event took hold, we found we had no choice but to put it all in God's hands.  Each day we spent a season of prayer together as a class, lifting up to God our needs for the reception.  And God came through in a big way.

The gym looked spectacular. The kids came up with the color scheme and decoration ideas.  This year our colors were black, white, and silver with red accents.  A big thanks to Mrs. Arthurs, herself an honoree, who helped me kick it up a notch.  She came in to look at we'd done so far on Friday and then went shopping with me to find a few more things add to polish the look.  Saturday night, when she could have simply kicked back and basked in the accolades, she was working along side the students on the last minute decorations right up to the start of the reception.

  Of course in terms of decor, the highlight were the 100 posters.  Each glossy 11 by 17 poster featured a photo of a hero and beneath the students' written tribute to their hero. Throughout the reception the heroes and their guests could browse through the venue looking at the pictures and reading the tributes, and at the end of the evening they were able to take their poster home as a keepsake.  As at the past reception, seeing all the heroes in the flesh, was a little like meeting a celebrity.  I'd read the tributes and seen their pictures, but there was something quite thrilling in meeting these heroes in real life!

Keisha and our Feller at the dinner table at the 2012 Heroes Reception.  You can see the posters lining the wall behind them.

The food was delicious.  The kids chose the menu, but Mrs. Madelyn Boddie, our regular substitute teacher and a serious chef, was responsible for taking the kids' ideas and transforming them into delectable reality.  Mrs. Boddie has fed hundreds before, so it was no big thing to her, but it meant a lot to us, especially because she provided her considerable services gratis.  Mrs. Boddie got a  huge assist from the King's Daughters, an association of Christian ladies who volunteered their time and talents to help with the food prep and service that night.  Also, my lovely wife took on the dessert and made all the peach cobbler served that evening--twelve trays worth, enough to feed two hundread people!

The invitations looked sharp, and the invitations committee also did a lot of work on creating a seating chart for the evening, something we lacked at the last reception.

The program was well planned. I was so excited to have some live music to honor our heroe this year.  The 8th grade class president played an instrumental number on the piano, and three young ladies sang a beautiful acappella rendition of Mariah Carey's "Hero."  This year, due to the number of students in the class, the students opted to categorize the heroes and honor them by category, rather than having all 24 students get up and share their tributes.   Selected students read a tribute they'd prepared to the heroes of that category and then all the names of the heroes were read, and those that were present were asked to stand so that students could honor them. It was a bit harried because the students were trying to serve food at the same time so they felt the need to rush through it.  As a result the ideal of each student presenting their hero with a flower and their little gift bag of candy didn't always happen.  Often times it was just a random student rushing up to anyone they found standing and thrusting the gifts into their hands.

All of this cost money--lots of it.  With the much bigger turn out this year, we spent about $1500 more than double the amount we spent in 2010.  However, we also raised a lot more  money this year thanks to  our fundraising committee--a two woman show.  Two girls in my class took it upon themselves to shore up our meager stockpile of funds by planning some special activities at the school the week of the reception.  The dynamic duo with the help of a couple of classmates raked in just over $200 for their efforts and managed to collect another $125 in donations the night of the reception.  We still fell far short of what we needed to fund the event, and we borrowed heavily from the 8th grade class, so the fundraising will continue as we look for ways to pay that money back in the next few months.

There were a few things that didn't go as planned:  Our music once again failed to materialize, at first because we couldn't locate a device to play it on, and later because the soundtrack had been so carefully curated to match each moment of the evening (most of which had already passed) that there was little flexiblity for some nice dinner music to play between program segments.  I'd also like to flesh out our gift bags a little more--God bless, the same two girls who were our fundraisers went out and spent their own money for the candy in the bags.  I know they would have liked to have given more.  Perhaps next year we can partner with local businesses that would be willing to donate items for the gift bags.

These are minor quibbles though.  The surest evidence in our success was not in our estimation of how the evening went, but in the response of those we'd invited.   The response was very postiive.  Our guests truly appreciated our efforts.  These ordinary people--people who'd never think to call themselves heroes--were deeply touched.  The following week I was privy to a flurry of e-mails between grateful parents, relatives, and other heroes as they talked about how special the evening was.  Eventually they hat hatched a plan to throw the kids a pizza party for the kids to tell the kids thank you for their thought, care, and hard work.

I'm so proud of my students, and I can't wait to see what's in store as we take our heroes to even greater heights next year.



The family with Keisha at the end of the reception.

A Hero in Our Home: Keisha's Visit

Babs and Keisha outside COSI. Sunday, February 5, 2012

We were so thrilled and I was so honored to welcome Keisha Paez into our home about a month ago.  Keisha flew out to attend the 2nd Annual Heroes Reception as my honored guest.  I was amazed and moved that Keisha would spend the time and money to come all the way out here from Oregon just to attend my students' event.

Of course she did more than just go to the reception.  I feel like I barely saw her for the first part of the weekend, from her arrival Friday up until the Saturday night reception, as I was so consumed with getting ready for the gala event.

But Sunday we had a nice time together.  We went downtown to our favorite Thai place in Columbus, Basil and then stopped over at Jeni's for some splendid ice cream.  Then we finished out the afternoon with a nice visit to COSI, where we spent a good bit of time in the fascinating new exhibit on race.  Sunday night we watched the Super Bowl at home.



Keisha talking to my students.  Monday, February 6, 2012

On Monday, Keisha came by the school in the afternoon and made a brief presentation to my students about her experiences with the Marine Corps.  As soon as school was over I ran her over to the airport and just like that her all-too-short visit came to an end.  As I hugged her goodbye and watched her walk purposefully into the airport, I felt a wistful pang.  All of us Babs,Elijah, and me really had thoruoghly enjoyed having her with us for the weekend, and it felt too soon to be saying goodbye.

We'll see her again this summer when we fly to join her and the whole Paez tribe for her commissioning as an officer in the United States Marine Corps.

Port Land

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

"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!

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

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

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 fundamental part 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

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 to an end.  With it, came the end of my childhood and the beginning of a new, grown-up experience of what makes the Christmas season special.

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

This particular year, for various grown-up reasons that the decision was made that it was time to dial down the gift giving.  I was always under the impression that grandma, the family’s fearsome Matriarch had decided that the holiday excess had become absurd, and that it was time we had a more reasonable spread beneath the tree.  In any case, for the first time 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 away with exactly one present for the entire Christmas (though in truth, I think most of the families exchanged a few more privately.  I know we did.  I received the very nice coffee table book A Day in the Life of America, something I’d wanted for quite some time).  But the decision had been made and no allowance was made for appeal.

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

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

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

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

Until that Christmas afternoon anyway.  When at last we gathered around the Christmas tree, and each of us received our gift, I peeled back the wrapping paper to discover that my cousin William had given me. . . . a crdl.  The fabled crdl was a large magnet encased in a black plastic platform.  The platform contained a mound of shiny metal chips which could be shaped into various abstract sculptures.  You could even brush 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 pieces back up.  It could serve suitably as a unique paperweight or desk ornament—just the sort of thing a business executive or sales rep might fiddle with while talking on the phone.  In other words, the crdl was pretty much boring and useless, particularly for a fifteen year old boy.

I did my best to hide my disappointment (which was particularly crushing since this was my only present for the day), and gamely had a laugh at my own expense.  I suppose it 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 holiday low-light for me, on record as one of the worst Christmases ever.  But recently as I prepared to tell the tale of the Crdl Christmas for the chidlren’s story at church, I came to realize that perhaps that Christmas was more significant than I’d realized.  The Christmas of the Crdl was the year that I grew up—it was the dividing point between when Christmas had been all about the presents and when Christmas became all about the people.  Before the Crdl Christmas, presents had been what 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 the worst one on record then I’m extraordinarily blessed.   Each Christmas that I’ve been able to spend in good health, with all my needs and many of my wants provided for,  that I’ve been able to gather with people I love, every holiday that I’ve been able to look upon with gratitude for the grace of God, is indeed among the most wonderful times of the year.  Each year that I have the luxury of disappointment over a gift that somewhat missed the mark, I have reason to rejoice.

I spent Christmas 2011 with the in-laws, and then on Monday, December 26, Babs, the Feller and I flew out to Oregon to spend a week with Carol Paez and her family.  Already, I’ve had a great week of vacation spending special time with my son.   I find I barely think at all about what I’ll get for Christmas this year. The real gift is in those gathered around 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

                --“Grown Up 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



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