Pastimes

5 Hobbies and why I love them:

Hobbies. Huh.  My first thought was I don't know if I have time for one hobby much less five of them. But, I thought about it for a bit and I realized I do have a few pastimes, even if I don't get to enjoy them as often as I'd like.

In order of how often I get to spend time on these activities:

1. Running
I love running for the sense of accomplishment I feel when I'm done.  I love it because I feel like I'm taking care of myself and my body when I run. I love it because when my pace is right, a good song has shuffled up on my phone, and I'm pushing myself without feeling like crap, it feels really good.  I love it for the challenge.  And I love the camraderie I have with other runners.  I began running more as a social activity, and I still miss running with other people--Vince, the FourRunners, Erwin. But I've come to appreciate the time to myself too, and the chance to think and enjoy my music. Most of the year I run between 2 and 4 times a week.  4 is the goal, 2 is acceptable.

I think it's time to buy some new running shoes

2. Reading
I love reading for the escape.  I love stories (which accounts for my third hobby also).  I love a good novel that keeps me turning the pages, but also provides me with thoughtful insights into life and the human condition. I also love reading to learn new things.  As long as the material is not dry or overly technical, I love reading to learn.  That's why I try to read Time magazine cover to cover every week. If you count reading online, this is actually the hobby I do the most.  I literally read in every spare moment I have. When I was younger, in the days before the ubiquity of online devices I always had a book or magazine in my hand.  Now the phone suffices. It's  number two though because I only sit down for the purpose of reading maybe once or twice a week.  Maybe.  So the reading material I'm meaning to get to tends to pile up.

On my nightstand: What I'm reading now. As you can see, I'm a little behind on my magazines.

3.  Movies.
I love movies for much the same reason I love reading. A story well-told, with complex characters that provide insights into human nature and the human experience are reasons I love watching movies. I don't love all movies.  I never watch horror films.  Few action films interest me. And I'm particular about comedies. Just as I like reading to learn, I enjoy good documentaries as well.  The "prestige" television shows that have been appearing on cable TV for the past few years also appeal to me in the same way that movies do. Unfortunately, with two small kids at home, I don't get to the movies very often--maybe a couple of times a year.  And even at home, it's hard to find time to watch movies. My Netflix queue has over 50 movies in it and that number hasn't budged in years as I tend to add more titles once I've watched some on the queue

Some of the movies in my personal collection. I don't often buy movies but on the rare occasion that I feel like I can watch a movie over and over again, I'll buy the film. I've seen all of these movies multiple times. When Harry Met Sally is my favorite movie of all time.

4.  Live Music
I love live music first and foremost because I love music. But I also like specifically hearing songs that I love live. I like that you're never quite sure what you're going to get in a live performance.  Even the less than perfect moments when the song goes off-key or the band messes up appeal to me. I like the rawness and authenticity of live performances. I enjoy watching my favorite artists work at their craft. I like to be up close where I can see the roadies moving around on stage, trading out the guitars and placing water bottles strategically  for the performers. I love hearing my favorite songs reinterpreted live. In fact some of my favorite versions of some songs are ones that can't be found on any official recording--they are bootleg versions of live songs.  The live versions of "Beautiful Day" and "One Tree Hill" played at my first U2 concert in Tokyo, and which I found the bootleg recordings of a few days later are my favorite versions of those songs.  It's also a special treat when a favorite artist covers a song by another favorite artist (as when Mat Kearney covered U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name" at a show I attended this summer). And of course sharing the experience with thousands of other fans is amazing. Those moments where we're all singing "Pride (In the Name of Love)" with U2 or "The Sound" with Switchfoot are transcendent.  I don't get to pursue this hobby very often.  This year I went to two live shows, the year before two back-to-back U2 concerts.  There are years where I don't go to any concerts at all.

I was at the July 5 show in Chicago at Soldier Field

5.  Cooking
I love cooking because I like to eat good food, and I like to try new things. Now the truth is,  most of the time I don't cook as a hobby; I cook out of necessity.  There was a time when my goal was to make something  new every time I  cooked.  If I could remember making a recipe in the last year, I didn't want to make it. These days I've even given up making new things because my children prefer "simple food" as my older son put it.  Barbara also tends to be. . .selective, shall we say, in what she likes.   I've also become somewhat of pie specialist, and I'm always excited to try a new pie.  The last new recipe I tried was for an apricot pie.  Even though I cook several times a week, I consider this a hobby that I practice the least since it's been a long time since I cooked for enjoyment rather than simply because we need to eat.  There's a lot of room for growth in my culinary experience.  I'm not a real cook in that I don't make up recipes of my own and I don't even taste my own food as I"m preparing it.  I am a rigid recipe-follower, but I wouldn't mind learning more about the art of cooking, and developing my hobby into a real talent.  Maybe when the kids are older.

Pasta bake for my  picky family. Elijah doesn't like the Morningstar Crumbles (fake ground beef), so the top section is his.  Babs doesn't eat cheese so the middle section is for her. And Ezra and I share the bottom third, that contains both cheese and meat.

Come Again

Todays topic: Something I miss


I know they mean something or someone from my past that I miss, and I thought a lot about things that I miss before deciding to go in a totally different direction.  I decided to read it as something that I miss, as in don't notice.  And interpreting the topic this way,  the thing that I miss is. . .what you just said.

I'm notorious for being completely absorbed in what I'm doing. It can be when I'm reading or on the computer, but it can be when I'm doing just about anything. People will talk to me and it will vaguely register that someone is speaking to me, but it usually takes a couple of tries before I come out of the fog and am actually able to hear you.

It drives Babs nuts, and my colleagues will give you a knowing chuckle if you ask them about it.

I don't know why I'm this way, only that I always have been.

Oh, I'm sorry did you say something?

A Day

This is the day that the Lord has made.  I will rejoice and be glad in it.
                                                                                --Psalm 118:24

There's the way I'd like for my day to go and there's the way that my day usually goes. It often feels like there's no such thing as a typical day, but the truth is there are consistent patterns to my day.  They are just not patterns I've consciously chosen or patterns I'm happy with.  This more, often than not, is what a day looks like for me.

• Wake up too late.  Ideally, I need to get up by 4:30 A.M., because the only real time I have to get non-teaching work done is in the very early morning. Ideally, I'd be up by 4:30 to have devotions, then work from 5 A.M.to 6 A.M. Then from 6 to 6:30 get the kids up and ready for school. Then 6:30 to 7:00 to get the car loaded up and the kids out the door (Yes, it really can take up to 30 minutes just to do that--especially in the winter).  Ideally, I'd arrive at school early enough to get a few things done in the classroom before latchkey starts. The few times I've actually achieved this, the results have been fantastic. But typically, I get a late start (see the end of this entry to find out why).

• Here's how it usually goes.  Wake up around 5:30 or 6, get dressed and ready for the day.  Have a rushed devotion (a quick reading from Isaiah or 2 Samuel and/or the Jesus Calling devotional).  Look at the sink piled high with dishes and despair that I don't have time to do them unless I commit to being really late for latchkey.  6:30, wake up the boys.  Elijah dresses himself, while I dress Ezra while he remains in bed asleep (I can dress him completely including shoes without him waking up).  Load the car, carry Ezra down and put him in his car seat, while Elijah scrambles to bring a dozen toys with him in the car along with his busted-up but still working iPad.  Pull out of the parking lot of our apartment complex around 7:00 A.M. or shortly after.

This was today at 6:50 A.M.  He's out like a light

Four minutes later, all dressed and still in bed

Ready to go and still sleeping.

• Latchkey.  Arrive around 7:30 or shortly after.  Drop Ezra and Elijah at the pre-school room.  Go park the car at the school and walk back across the parking lot to the church where Ezra goes to pre-school and I run the morning latchkey program.  Bemoan that I can't honestly put down 7:30 on my timesheet, because it took me 5 minutes to park the car and walk back.  Pick up latchkey kids (including Elijah) from the pre-school room and walk down to gym.  Watch the kids and try to grade a few papers at the same time.  Ms. Vonna serves a delicious piping hot breakfast to all the latchkey kids and me.  At 8:22, exactly I call the latchkey kids to line up to walk over to the school

Walking across the parking lot from the school to the church. I was 30 minutes late today thanks to my oldest son feeling a 25 minute call of nature right when we were about to head out the door.

• Morning routine, worship, HK. 8:30 to 8:45, I enter my classroom, open the blinds to all the windows, take the chairs down from the tops of the desks, and greet my students cheerfully as they walk in.  At exactly 8:42 remind students its time to turn in their electronic devices.  At exactly 8:44 give my students the 1 minute warning that it's time to wrap up conversations, take a seat, and make sure their desks are clear.  At exactly 8:45, worship begins led by my student worship team while I take attendance.  At 8:55, it's HK time (Housekeeping) where I give morning announcements and my student "administrative assistant" takes the lunch count.

On entering my classroom

About 15 minutes later, as worship is starting

• Morning classes: 9:00 or shortly after until 12:45 or a little later than that.  I will typically see two classes each morning.  One class will have a "long day"--they are with me from 9 to 12, the other has a short day from 12:05 to lunch.  Every class begins with boardwork--two to five math problems that reflect the math objectives we are either currently working on or will soon be working on.  The boardwork is probably the single most important thing I do every day.   It's how I know how well the students are learning the content, how I determine what I need to teach and to who, how I pre-assess students to see what they already know.  I go over the boardwork answers with the students as soon as they finish the problems. After that it's meeting with students in small groups, tailoring instructions and assignments to the needs of the students.  Math takes up most of the time, but I also do social studies with the group that has the "long day."  Social studies might be grading homework from the day before, a short lecture (I try not to talk from the front for more than 20  minutes at a stretch, ever), maybe a video, or "work time." For the "long day" group there will also be a 20 minute recess period somewhere in the morning.  Most days for a good portion of the long class period, the Title 1 Tutors take groups of students out of the classroom to work with them, and then I can't do any whole group activities without those students being left out.

Today's boardwork for 7th/8th Grade Math

• Lunch: Between 12:45 and 1 until 1:20 or 1:25.  Basically, I go to lunch whenever the lunch lady comes to watch my class so I can get a break. She is often late, but I don't mind.  I'm just glad she's there everyday.  I work, make copies--there's usually a checklist of things to do during lunch. Most days I don't bring my own lunch, but eat whatever is leftover from the hot lunch served to the students. I usually have 10 minutes or less to eat and often take my lunch back to class. My colleagues Ms. Desha and Mrs. Kulemeka are also in our tiny little "lounge"/copy room and it's nice to connect with my team for a short bit in the middle of the day.  I bemoan all the stuff I meant to get done during lunch but couldn't get to.  I've never had a lunch period in my career as a teacher that hasn't felt rushed.

A working lunch. . . as usual

• Afternoon Class:  My third class I have from 1:30 to 3:25.  Usually we'll start the period with a short after lunch recess, which I keep meticulous time on the stopwatch on my phone.  It's exactly 20 minutes from "seat to seat"--from the time the students leave their seats to line up until they are seated again and ready for class.  How much time the students spend of that recess getting quiet in line before we go out and coming in from recess after that "one last basket" or "one last pass of the football" is up to the kids.  I monitor the time it takes them to come in and use that to determine when I call them in the next day.   Once the recess is over, the afternoon runs pretty much like the morning long period, with the boardwork, small group teaching etc and split 70/30 between Math and Social Studies.

• Dismissal:3:25 P.M. My homeroom students come into the classroom. I remind them repeatedly that their's no talking during this time (because they move a LOT slower when they talk), and occasionally write some names down because that's the only way they will actually not talk and focus on getting ready to go home.  At 3:35 P.M. the kids sit down in their desks, presumably packed and ready to go and I go over end of day announcements and homework reminders.  Then the 8th grade class pastor offers prayer, and we wait for the latchkey, car riders and buses to be called.  Usually by 4 the kids are all gone.

• After School Special: My after school schedule varies from day to day. On Wednesdays and Thursdays, I usually leave right after school, though by the time I gather my stuff, get Elijah to gather his things which he's usually scattered around my classroom within minutes of arriving, and pick up Ezra from pre-school, it's usually around 4:30.  On Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays I stay at the school longer and Barbara picks up the boys. On Monday, I work until 5:30 and then leave for drama practice at Worthington SDA Church.  On Tuesdays we have staff meetings, and Friday is my "work" day when I usually try to get my lesson plans done.

Today's after school special was a staff meeting

• Evening Rush:  This is part of our day is the key to everything else and it almost never goes according to plan. The goal is that the kids eat by 5:30,Barbara bathes them at 6 while I clean up the kitchen and pick up the house, we have family worship at 6:30, and from 6:45 to 7:15 time I have Time Together with the boys (Time Together is when I spend time with the boys, usually about 15 minutes each. With Ezra, I might color, do a puzzle, or play with Ezra's Hot Wheels collection.  With Elijah it's usually playing some sort of My Little Pony storyline with his ponies).  From 7:15 to 7:45 or 8, is supposed to be work time. Then I have an hour to read and relax, shower, and spend time with Barbara going to bed by 9.

Heading home

• The reality is that most days it seems there's either something going on that causes one or all of us to come home past six..  And on the uncommon days when we do all get home in a timely fashion, the evening tends to grind to a halt somewhere in the process.  Maybe supper takes a long time to make, and we end up not eating until 6:30.  Maybe Barbara gets a phone call from her mom and they end up talking for awhile, while the kids get on their tablets (which their not supposed to do after supper) and we don't get started on baths until after 7.  Sometimes we just do a bath skip, or skip worship or skip Time Together (which is always a huge disappointment to the boys).  These adjustments don't really seem to matter.  The kids still end up going to bed around 8 or later, and as a result our post-boys-bedtime schedule gets truncated also.  At shortly after 8 when the boys are in their room (but not yet asleep, and often calling out for drinks of water or coming out of the room on one pretext or another--they don't usually fall asleep until after 9), I'm typically faced with tough choices. Work is not on the agenda. I'm still hoping that I can get to bed at decent time and get up early to do school work I haven't had time to do.  But there are things that need doing. Do I fold the laundry so we're not digging through the laundry basket trying to find a matching pair of socks?  Do I work on the budget so we don't overspend?  Do I try to get the kitchen in some semblance of order?  .  I can only choose one and the others won't get done.  It's usually after 9 by the time I'm able to shower, relax, and talk with Barbara a bit for bed.  I almost never get around to reading.  For me it's usually not until sometime after 10, usually by 11 that I go to sleep.  Which is why the next morning, I get up later than I want.  And it all begins again.

Another late night. It's 9:30 and Elijah still isn't in bed. He's finishing up a diorama project for his science class.

As you can see certain vital tasks are usually left by the wayside.  Working on grades doesn't often happen, so it's easy for me to fall far behind in my grading.  Keeping the house picked up and the dishes done gets dropped as well, so most of the time our place looks like a bomb went off. I'm embarrassed to even post pictures!

I usually begin the day feeling behind before I begin and end the day feeling like there's so much left undone.  And yet. . .taken together, I don't feel bad about my life. When I think back on the last year, the last month, the last week, even yesterday, I don't feel bad or depressed about my hectic days. My memories are good, and I feel at peace with the work I've done. The individual trees are ugly and uncomfortable, but taken together, the forest is beautiful.

It makes me think that maybe I should make my peace with what the day brings in the moment.  Perhaps it's possible to rejoice and be glad in the day He's given me, even if it's a day short on sleep and long on unfinished tasks and dirty dishes.

It's funny how often I hear this song on the way to work, when I'm living the very things described in the lyrics ( though I'm partial a 64 oz sweet tea from McDonalds to get me through the day rather than  my "third cup of joe")

Hawaii

Where I would live if I could live anywhere in the world:

Truthfully, there are many places where I'd like to live.  It seemed like every place that we took the 8th graders on a class trip, I found myself thinking: "I could live here."  Thailand, South Korea, Singapore, Australia--they all seemed like they'd be great places to live.

Also, I'm an island guy.  I think I'd be happy living on just about any tropical island whether in the Pacific or the Caribbean.  The "zorry life" (zorries are the word we use in Micronesia for flip-flops) agrees with me.  Saipan, of course, holds a special place in my heart. I could easily have lived there for the rest of my life.

So, there's not really one answer. But today, I think I'll choose the place I always envision us retiring:  Hawaii.  The Hawaiian Islands are beautiful and the climate is perfect.  I love the laid-back culture, even if Honolulu does have some of the worst traffic in the country.  It has the conveniences of the Mainland and is fully part of the United States, so I'm still here in America, but it doesn't feel quite like it.  I can picture us living in a humble home on the windward side of Hawaii. I'd volunteer at Kailua SDA Elementary School, maybe work part-time at Safeway to make ends meet.  We'd go to church every Sabbath at Kailua SDA Church, and spend multiple days a week relaxing on or near the beach.  Talk about golden years!

The only real draw back to living in Hawaii is that it's expensive. I knew that of course, and figured I'd be willing to work a part-time job in my retirement just to be able to live there.  But recently, I looked up what it would cost to buy a house there and my jaw hit the floor.  We'd almost certainly have to rent. Realistically, given the financial choices we've made so far, I'm not sure that retiring to Hawaii won't remain a dream.  But it is a lovely dream.

Wisdom

Words of wisdom that speak to me:

I don't have a pithy quote by a famous person. I do have some wise words, the exact phrasing of which I can't recall,  said by a 19 year old just out of high school.  These words sparked a change in my outlook and have been a guiding philosophy in my life ever since.

The words of wisdom went more or less like this:

"The important thing to remember is that the only thing that really matters is getting through this life and getting to heaven."


Some context:  I had just graduated from high school and had been battling depression since the second half of my senior year.  I was on the phone bemoaning to my friend J Carlos the hopelessness and futility of life and he said these words.  I don't know why--but for me his words, which I'm sure  to some would seem a cliche and cold comfort, flipped a switch in my mind. Suddenly I began to see things from a different perspective. I realized that whatever I was going through, I could get through.  This life was the journey, not the ultimate destination.  J's words sparked the beginning of period of reinvention, growth, and joy in my life. Since then, this philosophy has not only provided me comfort in the face of struggle and mortality, but also joy in the journey.

It's been said that "Some people are so heavenly-minded they are no earthly good."  I haven't found that to be true of those who are truly heavenly minded. Sure, there are church folk all bound up in the keeping of various rules and hewing to certain precise orthodoxies, but they don't strike me as particularly focused on heaven at all.  I just don't know too many folks sitting around dreaming of heaven and doing nothing.  I know people like James Appel, the folks that serve with Adventist Frontier Mission, people like Rich Mullins, my mother, my grandparents, my father in-law.  People like J Carlos.  If anything, it seems to me that the more heavenly-minded these people are, the more earthly good they do.

In short, what J gave me that day in the summer of 1992 was perspective, perspective that prevented the lows of life from defeating me and the highs of life from deceiving me.  Anticipation for the next world  has helped me live a joyful, full, and hopefully giving life here in this one.

Blessings

5 Blessings in my life:

1. My work.  My job is challenging, often stressful and I have to make a conscious effort to stay positive every day.  But it is also very rewarding.  There are two specific aspects of my work that are a particular blessing.  First, I've been blessed to work where I work. My entire professional career has been spent in small (but not too small) Adventist schools. I love what both Saipan SDA School and Columbus Adventist Academy have been able to offer our students: a safe, loving, environment where it's easy to know each of my students personally and hopefully meet their unique individual needs. We've been big enough to field sports teams and even win a few championships, put on a big Christmas program, and offer some extracurricular opportunities, but small enough that it still feels like a family.  I honestly don't know if I could teach in a larger, tougher school, and I know for sure I wouldn't enjoy it.

One of the richest blessings of being a teacher is with my students after our time in the classroom has come to an end.  This photo was taken at the annual dinner I treat my former students to when they  graduate from high school. I began the tradition in Saipan--I think the 8th grade class of 2000, high school class of 2004 was the first class I did this with.  This was my 2012 8th graders who just graduated from high school this past spring. All but 3 of my 12 former students were there at an absolutely lovely dinner at Brio in April 2016.  We were joined by my classroom aide that year, Mrs. Pat Fountain, sitting to my right.

The other blessing of my work is my students. My students are what make the struggles and stresses worth it. Much of the time the blessing manifests itself after they leave my classroom as I watch them make their way in the world and we can enjoy a friendly relationship now that I'm no longer required to manage their behavior and grade their performance. From my first students in Chuuk, through my years in  Saipan, to the CAA graduates, I feel so blessed to have been a part of my students lives.  But my students are a blessing while they are in my classroom too.  They grow me, teach me, challenge me, and inspire me.  Just this week I had a young lady in my math class who had been struggling with long division.  She was so focused on working to get the concept that she asked if she could use her recess to keep working.  What a blessing to watch her eyes shine with joy as she began to understand and master the math!

2. My health, particularly my teeth. Of course I'm grateful to be in good health, to be fit and able to be active.  I know this is not a given and try not to take it for granted. But I'm especially and I think unusually blessed when it comes to my teeth.  They may not be the most beautiful (I never got braces) but they make even the strongest of dentists weep with joy.  I've been told many times by dentists how amazed they are by my teeth.  They seem to me made of titanium, seemingly impervious to decay.  Even more remarkable, because we grew up without health insurance, I never went to a dentist until I was an adult.  I know what a literal pain it can be to deal with tooth decay and I am blessed to not have had to deal with that.

3. My  Facebook friends. I always feel blessed when I look through my Facebook likes and comments. It's not the volume that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, it's the names.  Friends from Saipan years, church members at Ephesus and Saipan Central, former students,college, high school and elementary friends, Marriage Encounter friends, current and former colleagues, and family members.  Each name represents a person that I've shared a portion of this life journey with.  It's like a digital version of our wedding weekend every day--all the people Babs and I have known all in one place sharing in our joy.  A blessing indeed.

4. Living in the United States of America. It seems like an odd time to claim this blessing, I know.  Many feel that the ship of state now a has a captain of uncertain abilities and certainly poor character and judgement at the helm. I share this deep concern. Furthermore, I'm not an American exceptionalist. I'm  not a nationalist.  I love my country for the same reason I love my family.  Because it's mine. Not because it's better than the rest.  Indeed ours is a hypocritical nation of worthy and noble ideals built on a foundation of theft and slavery.  Our nation, like most nations, has largely grown based on its crimes, and now the best we can do is attempt to refashion it according to the ideals in it's founding documents retroactively, even though it's now conveniently too late to practically give back what we have stolen.

 But despite all of this I do feel that being an American citizen and being able to live in the United States is a blessing.  We are rich here, every one of us, compared to much of the world.  And while that does that bring its own set of problems, especially of a spiritual nature, I feel it would be ungrateful and entitled of me to not acknowledge the relative ease and safety I am blessed with here in America.  In that sense I'd probably feel the same sense of being blessed if I lived in Australia or Japan or many other developed countries. But this is where I live  and I do love my country, because it's mine.  I am also grateful that the principles of this nation allow me to critique and even protest the actions of my government and fellow citizens.  I'm grateful for those who served and even gave their lives to defend those rights. And so I am both grateful and motivated to make sure that my country becomes finally great in actions as well as in ideals.

This song, long one of my favorites captures the blessing of living with struggle. I had never heard this live version before and I love that it's unpolished performance reinforces the confessional lyrics.  It is more beautiful to me than the studio recording.


5. My spiritual struggle.  Not all blessings are "good" things. Sometimes the struggle is also a blessing and in my spiritual life I've come to believe that this is the case.  I've never had what you might call complete peace in my walk with God.  I've had a lifelong struggle with accepting at heart level God's love for me. Intellectually I know it's true, but emotionally I have a hard time accepting His love.  I have trouble trusting Him. I often fear getting too close to God and would prefer to keep Him somewhat at arms length. The guilt that used to plunge me into obsessive anxiety as a younger man has receded some, but has never entirely gone away.  As Rich Mullins sang, "I'd rather fight Him for something I don't really want than take what He gives that I need."  I've often wished I could just somehow let it all go and feel complete spiritual healing but so far that hasn't happened. But in a way, I feel blessed even in this.  I am not by nature the most humble of men (my friends can tell you the extent to which I succeed--or fail--at cloaking this tendency towards arrogance), but at least in the spiritual arena my lifelong struggles have not allowed me to congratulate myself very much.  I'm ever aware that I will make  it in to the kingdom, only because of His grace and His love for me.  My love for Him would  never get me there. Hopefully that knowledge keeps me from being a total jerk.

Alternate History

When I consider my life so far, I have to say the most significant decision I made was to go to Chuuk as a student missionary during the 1994-1995 school year.  That single decision changed the entire trajectory of my life.  This becomes abundantly clear when I ask this question:

What if I hadn't gone to Chuuk?

If I  hadn't gone to Chuuk I would likely not be a teacher today.  When I took the mission call to teach 5th grade for ten months at Chuuk SDA School, I had no interest in teaching as a career.  I was going to be a missionary--teaching was just the vehicle.  I was a psychology major and if I hadn't gone to Chuuk there's  no reason to think I wouldn't have continued on that path. I would have graduated with a BS in psychology in the spring of 1996, and probably gone straight into graduate school.  Presuming that everything went according to plan, I would have finished my PhD in the early 2000s and would probably be some kind of a therapist or counselor today.  Dr. Sean Maycock, clinical psychologist. It has a nice ring to it.  But I don't know if I really would have stayed with it, and if I had, I don't know if I would have been happy doing it.  I was never really passionate about the field.

My first classroom

If I hadn't gone to Chuuk, I would probably never have met or married the love of my life, Barbara Leen.  And of course I would not have my two boys Elijah and Ezra.  Imagining that What if makes me sad.  I met Barbara through Chuuk even though she never set foot in that part of Micronesia. Her good friend and roommate when I met her was Kristina Brown.  Kristina and I had become close friends while we were both serving on Chuuk and I would never have met Babs if I hadn't been there. I probably wouldn't have met Barbara in any other context because we didn't run in the same circles at Andrews.  She's three years older than me and had just graduated with her Bachelors degree when I was heading off to the mission field.

 I'm sure I would have gotten married, just because statistically most people do and I guess I'm the marrying kind.  Right before I went to Chuuk there were a couple of friendships that might have had the potential to develop into something more.  There was a rather romantic moment with a girl I'd been hanging out with a lot right before school let out for the summer in the spring of 1994.  I wrote a poem for her, and there was an unexpected kiss and then I drove away the next day, and spent the next few months pining for her.  She would have still been at Andrews if I had returned that fall but I can't honestly say that the kiss really portended anything serious.  I also met a girl in Florida that summer--a cute redhead going to school at the University of Florida. We hit it off quite quickly.  She wrote to me a few times the first few months I was in Chuuk but then we fell out of touch.  Would we have continued to stay in touch if I had stayed in the States? I have my doubts, and because we didn't share the same faith commitment, I don't think I would have found we had a lot in common.  The truth is I never experienced the instant, deep, and lasting connection I had with Barbara with any of the young women I knew prior to my year in Chuuk, so if I hadn't gone to Chuuk, I can only guess that my wife would have been someone I had yet to meet.

I owe this girl my wife! Kristina Brown relaxing on Sabbath afternoon up at Xavier High School in Chuuk, Late 1995

If I hadn't gone to Chuuk, I wouldn't have gone to Saipan and I most likely wouldn't be living in Ohio today. Barbara is my connection to the Buckeye State and without her, I don't know where I would have ended up.  Would I have stayed in Michigan where I went to school? Maybe moved to the Chicago area?  Or would I have ended up returning to Florida?  I can only guess that I would have ended up living near my wife's family, wherever that turned out to be.

If I hadn't gone to Chuuk, I can't say that I'd be as close to my friend J as I am today.  I'd like to think that our friendship would have remained strong regardless, and indeed it might have.  But there's something to be said for the power of proximity in sustaining friendship.  His parents moved to Ohio the same year I started dating Barbara so I often saw him when I was visiting her folks during our vacations.  Then we were both in Micronesia at the same time. We were in Saipan, while he was in back in Chuuk and then in Guam.  When he and Evelyn relocated to the States, they moved to Columbus to be near his parents.  And we moved to the same city for the same reason back in 2009.  For a few years we lived a mere 20 minutes apart and were able to get together on a weekly basis.  The Carlos family has been in the Chicago area for the past 5 years, but by  now I think the foundation for a lifelong friendship has long been cemented.  But without Chuuk, this fortitutous chain of coincidences might not have happened and our friendship might not be what it is today. (And this is not even considering that we spent that year in Chuuk together, and those shared adventures are crucial part of our bond).

J and I attempting to multi-task.  Grading papers and playing Risk at the same time, with our friend and fellow SM the inimitable Big Will Hawthorne.

If I hadn't gone to Chuuk, I'm not sure what my spiritual life would be like. I did experience something of a spiritual renaissance in the spring of 1994, but I wonder if it would have lasted without the refining fire of that incredible year in Chuuk--a year I often describe as the hardest and best year of my life.  In Chuuk I learned what it really meant to rely on God.  I never felt more alive than I did out there, way out of my depth, encountering the most incredible situations.  To this day, I  still can't quite believe some of the preposterous things that went on out there.  I could write a book, and indeed someday I think I will.  He sustained me every step of the way out there and I grew to love Him through it all.  The relationship I have with God today was forged in Chuuk.

What if. . .It's an interesting exercise,but I am glad for the way that my life has turned out.  I feel that my life has been incredibly rich, and I wouldn't trade it for an alternate version.

"Had to walk the rocks to see the mountain view, looking back, I see the lead of love."
                                                         -Cademon's Call
                                                                   

No Fuss

Something I feel strongly about:

I don't believe in or respect complaining. I'm a big believer in toughing it out.  I sometimes feel that I'd make a good Englishman. I love the whole stiff upper lip and gallows humor approach to the trials of life.

This conviction that one doesn't whine or complain comes out in a number of ways.  Here are three:

I don't like to gripe about my aches and pains when I'm not feeling well, and I tend to be impatient when others do so.  I think I could work on my empathy in this regard.

I don't like to fuss over food. I generally eat whatever is put before me without complaint, even if I don't love it.  And when I go out to eat I rarely send food back or complain that's cold or under or overcooked.  My approach tends to be you git what you git and you don't throw a fit.  Even in a restaurant where presumably I should have it my way.

I feel strongly that other people don't owe me anything.  I don't demand "customer service",  I don't feel that others need to make special acknowledgement of me or my feelings or what I'm going through. Which is not to say that I feel I or my feelings or experience don't matter. I just don't think they matter more than anyone else's feelings or experiences. I strongly believe that most people are doing the best they can under the circumstances.  I believe that people can only be who they are.

I feel that my no-fuss, low-maintenance approach to life is good most of the time. But I also know that sometimes I should complain and I don't.  My conviction about no griping can bleed over into an avoidance of conflict and an aversion to making other people uncomfortable. There are times when the right thing to do is to complain--loudly, to protest.  And unfortunately at those moments I find often prefer to stand down rather than stand up.  That's when my dislike for complaining becomes a liability rather than an asset.  The Bible says there is a time for everything, and I suppose that means that there is a time to grin and bear out, but also  a time to cry out and complain.  My goal is to have the wisdom and the courage to know the what the moment calls for, and act accordingly.

Excited

The things you get excited about as a working parent can seem pretty mundane. The most ordinary things become rare and valuable commodities--reading, sleep, watching a movie, not having to cook.

I'm so excited about the upcoming Thanksgiving Break. Normally I tend to want to catch up during vacations: Do some organizing in the house, get caught up on some projects, take care of another few of the endless round of non-teaching tasks that I can't get to on school days.

But this coming Thanksgiving vacation I plan to totally relax. I've been daydreaming about sleeping late, reading, watching movies on Netflix.  Maybe I'll do a Thanksgiving morning Turkey Trot. Perhaps I'll make some pies.  But mostly this break I just want to rest.  Of course I know this isn't entirely possible. You can't take a vacation from parenting.  But I'd like to get as close as I can to total indolence for that week.

And I'm pretty psyched that hard on the heels of Thanksgiving is the Christmas holidays and 11 luxurious days in Florida with my family!

Childhood

When I first thought about childhood memories, I figured this would be easy and kind of fun. But I found that all the "random" memories that popped into my head were negative. My childhood wasn't terrible, I don't think.  Despite some very dark early early years up until the age of 7, the rest of my childhood left little to complain about it.  I was cared for by a loving mother who worked from home so she could be with us. I was watched over by two stern but loving grandparents.  My siblings and I spent our formative years in a big house with a massive yard and a lot next door grown wild-it was perfect for exploring and adventures.

I remember this photo session in St. Croix around 1981-82 vividly. 

So I'm not sure why the memories that seemed to come to mind weren't happy ones. I've often said that my life started at the bottom and has been getting steadily better ever since.  I know school was not enjoyable for me. I don't suppose I felt terribly bullied or anything. But I don't know that I ever felt I truly belonged until at least high school.  There was a lot of outright racism that I just sort of lived with in school and at church.  Whether it was one of the pathfinder parents joking about running over a black guy during one of our can drives, while I sat in the back seat or the math teacher saying that he hates n*****s (helpfully clarifying that he didn't mean all black people, just the "bad" ones.  I breathed a sigh of relief knowing I had always been a "good one"--or so I was often told), casual racism was a part of life for me growing up.  I don't feel like I carry any bitterness over it, and at the time I wasn't angry.  Mostly, I was just confused.

Maybe because I'm a teacher, it was mostly school memories that came to mind.  But I find I didn't really want to dwell on those memories.  Home was a happier place.  So:  three of my happiest,most vivid memories from childhood


Christmas with the cousins:
My mother's sister Patsy, and her family often came down from Michigan to spend the Christmas holidays with us.  We counted the days until their supercool two-tone blue GMC van would pull into our driveway.  The visits of the Saliba family were always so much fun.  My cousin William, my brother Vince and I would play "sneak" at  night after bed time, crawling in what we thought was a stealthy fashion out into the living room where the adults were talking until we'd be caught by grandma sent back to bed.  There were magical visits to the Magic Kingdom. Even though for lunch we had to eat egg-salad sandwiches packed in grandma's blue Pan-Am bag instead of eating tasty (and pricey) Disney food, we loved our days at Disney.  I remember Christmas mornings when the tree would be dwarfed by a sea of presents that spread from the base of the tree halfway across the living room floor.  And then there were the family movie productions.  The best one was the first one, a Trinidadian take on the Christmas Carol that we called "A Christmas Creole."  Grandpa played Scrooge, William the young Scrooge of the past, Uncle Robert the hip, motorcycle riding ghost of the future. I was lucky enough to get the role of the ghost of Christmas past, and delivered my lines in a trembling high pitched voice. In our version of the Dicken's classic it wasn't Marley or the Christmas Spirits that cured Scrooge of his stingy ways but a visit from someone far more fearsome--Tante Merle, my uncle Slimen dressed in hilarious drag and delivering a stinging rebuke in heavy Trinidadian patois.

Summers at the Beach:
In the late 80s the Uncle Slimen and Aunt Patsy started making summer trips to Florida as well, and the whole Thomson tribe would get a condo at Bradenton Beach, Sanibel Island, or Anne Marie Island for a few days.  I remember well hours of swimming (in the pool more than the beach as I recall), watching rented VHS movies that sounded good but turned out awful or not for kids or both (Room with a View and Death Before Dishonor are burned on my brain to this day).  I remember sleeping on the carpeted floor of those luxurious condos laughing with William and Vince for hours and then falling asleep to the comforting hum of the air-conditioner.


The House in St. Croix:
We lived for a year after my parents divorce with my grandparents in St. Croix in the U.S. Virgin Islands before we all moved to Florida.  Grandpa was the conference president and I remember him and grandma leaving for work every morning in their Volvo station wagon, grandma wearing her brown and beige conference office uniform. I remember the rambling house, the wooden louvers on the windows, watching the lights of petroleum plant twinkling in the distance from our living room window.  I remember the stacks of old Time magazines neatly stored on shelves outside of grandma and grandpa's bright airy master bedroom.  I remember eating porridge (what we called cream of wheat) with condensed milk and raisins for breakfast in the kitchen in the middle of the house.  I remember the somewhat creepy playroom we hardly ever went into, even though it had clearly been designed as kid's paradise with giant cartoon figures painted on the walls.  I remember how beautiful the house was when my grandparents were hosting big dinner parties, when they turned on the colored lights around the garden fountain outside and the house was filled with laughter and warmth and the smells of good food. I'm realizing now that the house in St. Croix is one of the places I felt most safe and most happy in my childhood.

This is the St. Croix oil refinery whose lights used to comfort me when I was child looking out the living room window of my grandparents hilltop home on Red Rock Road. It's closed now.

Air Guitar

Something I wish I was great at.

I'm actually pretty good at air guitar (Aren't we all?)  But I've always wished that I could play the actual guitar.  I love music.  As you may recall, the perfect song is one of things that makes me really happy.  So for someone who enjoys music as much as I do, to not be able to actually play any music is kind of sad.

It's not that I even need to be "great" at it. I don't have a longing to create amazing, original songs.  I've never fantasized about writing music--I can't even fathom how musicians do it.  I don't think I've ever imagined an original melody (not a good one anyway) in my head. I just want to be able to play what other people have written.   I don't wish I was in a world-famous band (though it does sound fun), but I wouldn't mind being able to be in regular not-famous band, to help out with praise and worship on Sabbath.  To be able to lead worship in my own home (I've always hated singing without accompaniment during worship--excepting those awesome acapella moments when the band cuts out and the whole audience sings along together).  I wish was good enough to learn to play the songs I love.

But the truth is, I've had opportunities and I squandered them all.  My grandmother taught me piano when I was a child, but I got bored of it and quit.  Nobody forced me to keep playing whether I wanted to or not, and I kind of wish they had.  During high school, I took a semester of piano, but again did nothing else with it after the class was over.  In college I briefly took guitar lessons--but that also didn't take.  Most recently, when we moved to Ohio, my mother bought me a guitar as a birthday present.  It's the one you see pictured above. I got a book of chords and decided I would at least teach myself some chords so that I could play for my children during family worship.  I didn't follow through on that either. The chord book is in the closet, the guitar sits in a corner in its case,  with a broken string, gathering dust.

This is one of the great wishes of my life, that I could just play effortlessly.  And therein lies the rub. It's  not effortless.  At least not at first.  Effortless playing has to be earned through, well. . .effort.  And I just have never been willing to pay the cost.  I still tell myself that one of these days I'll finally do it--finally learn to play.  In the meantime, there's always the air guitar.

Winning

5 ways to win my heart.

 I've been thinking about this all day--primarily thinking about what it means to "win my heart."  The way my friend Mai responded, it seemed to suggest "things I appreciate".  You could also think of winning my heart as things that touch my heart, and make me feel loved.  I decided to go in a different direction though, and consider "winning my heart" to mean "making me fall in love."  So throughout the day I've been thinking about five things that made me fall in love with my wife of nearly twenty years.  What was it that enabled her to "win my heart."  I suppose it's kind of arbitrary to settle on five, so I wouldn't consider this list necessarily exhaustive.  But it gives a pretty good idea of what drew me to her.

So here's what it took to win my heart:

1.  She was beautiful--and she still is. Some will say it's shallow, but it's reality.  I was instantly attracted to Barbara from the first day I met her.  If her beauty inside hadn't matched her gorgeous outside, obviously that attraction would have faded.  But her inner beauty shone through and complimented her sparkling eyes and bright smile.  I can still her picture her sitting on my couch at the Sabbath potluck when we first spent time together and she was hot!

2.  She was smart.  I quickly learned that Barbara was sharp, a quick study.  Already more educated than me when we met (she'd finished her bachelors in Public Relations and Marketing, and was just starting.) I found her to be more than merely educated.  She was knowledgeable, interested, curious about things. She wasn't bored by politics, world issues, or other cerebral topics.  While I confess I can fall into "mansplaining" Babs always makes it clear that such condescensions are neither necessary or welcome with her.

3.  She was a talker.  One can be smart, but if one lacks the inclination to articulate that intelligence, it's hard to relate. As anyone who knows us well can attest, we are both talkers.  I'm sometimes embarrassed by my own ebullient verbosity, but never around my wife.  She loves to talk as much as I do, and I get as much joy from listening to her as I do in sharing my own many thoughts.  Our origin story says we talked for 11 hours that first day we met, and haven't stopped talking since.  The line from the Mat Kearney song "Billion" describes a scene that has played out a hundred times in our marriage.  "You never want to sleep, so I talk all  night to the only one."  Some of my favorite memories, right there.



4.  She was spiritual.  The first Friday night after we met we had our first Bible study together with a small group a friends.  I think it's important, if you're going to spend your life with someone, that you not only be on the same page spiritually, but also that you're headed in the same direction. That was the case with Babs. She loved Jesus and wanted to know Him better, just like I did.  At the same time, she wasn't overly enamored with orthodox Adventism. She wasn't a blind foot soldier in the church army, and was prone to question and make her own decisions, just like I was.

5.  She had just had that something.  In every one who wins your heart there is something--a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts.  Taken individually, or together the previous four can't create chemistry.  That's just there.  It was there between us when we met, and still there today.  The Beatles tried to articulate it, but even their song expresses a sort of speechlessness.  "Something in the way she woos me, I don't want to leave her now. You know I believe and how. . ."


Oh, and one more thing.  In order to win my heart, my  heart has to be available.  And it was that fall day that I met the love of my life.  You see I believe there are probably thousands out there that have all five heart-winning qualities.  Yes, even #5 (I'm not at all a believer in The One).  But once I made my vows to Barbara I took my heart off the market.  It can't be won anymore.  And that I believe, is one of the keys to a successful marriage--Recognizing there will always be people out there who can win your heart, but only if you make your heart available.  Mine is taken.

Destinations

Five places I'd like to visit.

Five is an awfully short bucket list.  There are so many places I'd like to visit--as close as the historical Jonah's Run church I pass every time we are on our way to visit Barbara's mom, and as far as the Seychelles out in the Indian Ocean--which as about as close to the other side of the world as you can get.  Narrowing it down to five was no easy task.  There are at least four locations on the African continent alone that I want to visit and I ended up eliminating them all from my top five rather than choosing one.  Then there's places I've already been that I want to return to, spend more time in or explore different parts of--Japan, France, Austria, Thailand, Australia and other parts of the Pacific. I decided to leave those off the list as well.

That said, here are five destinations I'd really like to see in this lifetime.

5.  Trinidad & Tobago:  These islands are my roots on my mothers side. She was born in Tobago, raised in Trinidad.  I've heard many stories about her childhood there and I would love to be able to experience those places myself, preferably with her as my tour guide. I want to visit Elizabeth Gardens, see Maracas Bay. This is one trip I hope to make a reality within the next few years.

4.  China:  This is one part of Asia we always thought we might visit while living in Saipan, but never got to. Just this past summer one of my former students Cui Xian Xian, invited us to Beijing to attend her wedding. If we'd had the money, I'd have gone in a heartbeat. Here too, I have roots. My grandmother was Chinese (though she was born in Trinidad), and I would love to visit her ancestral homeland.

3. New Zealand: Between the way cool Kiwis I've had the privilege to know and the dramatic beauty that can be found there, New Zealand has long appealed to me.  We actually got close to taking a group of 8th graders there some years back, but it was just a little too pricey to get there.  We even have friends living there right now, the Bautista family.  Malou was a church member and a good friend, and two of her three sons were students of mine. It would be great to catch up with them.  I'm happy (and not a little jealous) that Mai and her husband will be visiting New Zealand soon.

2. The United Kingdom & Ireland:  Okay, I know I'm cheating here.  But I'd like to think that if I went to visit one of these places, I'd plan a side trip to the other since they aren't so far away from each other.  I've long had a "thing" for Ireland.  I love everything Irish from the accents to the traditional music to the brilliant green landscape. My favorite band is Irish.  I just love the whole mythology of the place, and I'd love to visit even it meant the mythology was dispelled by the reality of Ireland as it actually is.  Somehow, I don't think I'd be disappointed.

1. The Holy Land: If someone offered me a ticket tomorrow to anywhere in the world, I'd book a flight to Tel Aviv.  I'm not much of a pilgrim, but I'd find visiting the actual locations described in the Bible fascinating.  Jerusalem.  Jericho. The Sea of Galilee.  I don't think I'd read the Bible the same away again after seeing all those places for myself.  And while I'm at it, I'd have to sneak in a side trip to Cairo to take in the pyramids as well.

I love to travel, and while we haven't done much since the kids were born, I have a feeling we'll be back on the road and up in the air in the years to come.  Hopefully these will be among our destinations.

Inspired

This is not a particularly inspiring time in our nation's history.  We have two of the most uninspiring candidates to ever appear at the top of the ballot. The level of vitriol, suspicion, and general distrust seem to be at an all time high.  Good news of any kind, like the recent World Series victory of the Chicago Cubs, comes as an all too rare refreshing tonic (and in that case, it was more of a bitter cup for the Indians fans).

And yet in the midst of all of this there are those that have inspired me.  And here's the interesting thing:  They come from across the political spectrum.  This will come as a shock to some, but even among my strongly partisan friends with whom I find myself completely disagreeing and utterly baffled by, there are those who inspire me yet.

There are those on the right, those who feel that America needs a radical reset. My high school friends Heather and Jerry Rice come to mind. They inspire me because despite their passionate views, they are committed to accepting everyone, even those with whom they disagree.  Heather and Jerry, as you know I don't really get it. . . I think you are really wrong on this one. But I get you, and I know I'll still be welcome in your home no matter what things look like on November 9.

There are those who inspire me because they clearly articulate a point of view I often share. These people are champions of the progressive cause, and the articles they share and comment on enlighten and encourage me. There's college friend Crister Delacruz, whose steady stream of shares carping about Trump and his "Trumpers" I will sorely miss after next week.  And  there's my cousin Dee Johnson, who always keeps me woke with his acerbic take on the mess we humans have made.  These two and others like them have been a regular source of inspiration throughout this election cycle.

And I especially appreciate those who are able to see contentious issues in fresh ways, those whose stance on the political battlefield is a little harder to identify.  They don't seem to buy either party line, at least not wholesale.  They are independent thinkers and often it's what that they see and say that is most accurate and most incisive. Another friend from high school Rey Descalso, and one of my closest friends since high school, J Micheal Carlos have inspired me in this way.

And then there's the unexpected undecided.  I was talking to our maintanence/janitoral services man after school the other day, a wise gracious, kind-hearted gentleman who shared with me that with less than a week to go before the election he was truly undecided.  The crowd I run with--it's essentially a given that everyone is anti-Trump.  I mean what reasonable black person would even consider voting for him, right?  Wrong.  Talking with Mr. Russell forced me to question every assumption I'd had about those who didn't see Clinton is the obvious and only choice. I found that inspiring.

There are others that have inspired me in the way these seven have, but these were the ones that immediately came to mind, and who represent,I think, a lot more people than we are inclined to believe are out there.  There are those that insist people's political leanings are an indication of their character, of their heart. But I have Heather, Jerry, Crister, Dee, Rey, J, Mr. Russell, and many more who prove otherwise. Whether they realize it or not, they are better together--and they make our country better too.