It's Something Like That...

Week 1, Day 2

2009-11-07T22:38:00.001-06:00

So, day two of workout 1. I have to say I wasn't too excited about today. I forgot to stretch after my run/walk on Tuesday, so I was feeling it today. But, grudgingly, I pulled out my shorts and laced up my running shoes and hit the door. It was a mellow mood all day and my play list showed it. I studied music for a time in college, and there I was introduced to Bach's cello concerto's. This was the perfect day. I started off with the one from the American Express commercial with all of appliances and what not that are pictured as having faces, etc. you know the one. And off I went. The first run had to be the hardest. I have a feeling this will be a trend. My ankle felt stiff and my calves were attempting to throw up their second stomach, but I pressed on. As I went and as Bach was interrupted by Sgt. Robot, I started playing a game. I looked for things I would have otherwise missed had I not taken this jog. 1. A purple El Camino. I always think of Brad Pitt in "The Mexican" "Ellll Cam-EE- noh" as he runs his finger along the side. So funny. 2. At least 20 bags of leaves stacked ever so neatly on the side of a driveway next to a leaf-less lawn. For someone to appreciate it in the same way you must suffer, as I do, from CDO (its like OCD, but alphabetized like it should be). 3. I saw a guy drying off his Tahoe with a leaf blower. It makes perfect sense! Why go through the trouble of wiping when all you need to do is blow?

Anyway, that's the game I played while I jogged/walked. It makes the time go by and eases the pain. Although, Day 2 didn't seem to cause that much pain...I think I may be getting ahead of myself.

It's something new...again.

2009-11-03T16:34:00.003-06:00

I'm 32 years old. I'm not sure you knew that. A couple of weeks ago, I asked my parents if they were celebrating their 30th or 40th wedding anniversary so I'm not sure that knew that. I started something this evening and I'm not sure why. It's not New Years Eve, nor is it a milestone birthday. I didn't get bad news from the doctor or get orders to make a lifestyle change...I just started.

A week or so ago, I felt like the urging to get into shape. I know that fastest way to do that is by running. I hate running. This will be a common theme in this post, I'm sure. The second realization came as I looked back on all of my attempts at achieving physical fitness. I've run by myself. I've run with friends. I've run on the road, on the treadmill and on a hiking trail. I've walked a mile and run half a mile, then given it up altogether. So, I realized I needed a plan. I need to aim at something and work my way through the obstacles and over the hurdles to achieve that goal. So, here we go. I've started. And I'm blogging about it. I know that if there's something I want to achieve and I don't feel like I have the tenacity to see it through, if I tell someone else about it, I will work harder for fear of embarrassment and disappointment. So here we go (again). Goal #1: to run a 5k (3 miles) in 9 weeks. Oh, look! A handy iPod Touch app to help: Couch to 5k. Goal #2: run a half marathon (13.1 miles) (hopefully with my wife Jennifer and buddy Matt). Goal #3: run a full marathon (26.2) (with anyone crazy enough to do it).

Matt has run in at least one marathon that I know of and I was present for a half marathon in Nashville. So, to the authority I turn. He sent me to this site: Cool Running which, in turn, prompted me to look for the iPod app. So, here's day 1:

Workout 1 Day 1
This workout consists of a five minute warm up and alternating 60 seconds of jogging with 90 seconds of walking. So, I start "Alligator Pie" by the Dave Matthews Band, hit the Genius on my iPod and off we go. "Alligator Pie" goes off without a hitch. My five minute warm up outlasts Stella whining about being put into a song. I start enjoying the fall wind and the colors of the remaining leaves when I hear "ding, ding ding...RUN!" What the...? Oh yeah, I'm supposed to run now. Apparently, "audio cues" on the website become a "Speak and Spell" with a drill sergeant tone. I pump my legs. My heart starts beating and my lungs fill like they are about to burst. All of a sudden, I'm noticing that Dave is now crooning, "Save Me" and I'm praying along with him. "ding, ding, ding...walk." Whew, that was crazy! Look at me! I ran...wait, how long was that? Oh yeah, 60 seconds. At this point, I'm sure I have made an error in judgment. There is no reason that anyone should voluntarily jump off the couch and subject themselves to this torture. Next song: from U2's new album, No Line on the Horizon, "Breathe" comes on. I couldn't make this up. I'm not that creative. With Bono reminding me that breathing, while involuntarily, needs to become voluntary. No, that's not in the lyrics, but when you are hyperventilating, you focus on the one thing that keeps you alive and that happened to be coming from Bono. "ding, ding, ding...RUN!" SIR, YES, SIR!!! Bono's encouragement bounces around in my head like the mass of flesh around my gut and keeps me going through the next few segments of the workout until eventually, the "ding, ding, ding" involuntarily makes me alter my pace. On at least one transition, I cheat on the last ding and walk before Sgt. Roboto tells me to. "RUN" "walk" "RUN" "Cool down period." What? I mean...I didn't...Wow, it's over? I would love to tell you that's what I was thinking, but all I could think was, "Jehovah Jireh! God has provided a way out of this torture!"

I finish my cool down and do some stretches thinking about how Day 1 is in the books. Only 8 weeks and six days left. Don't forget to Breathe.

Mr. Obama

2008-03-19T17:03:00.000-05:00

A New Pedagogical Approach

2007-09-20T11:48:00.000-05:00

Today marked a departure from the norm. "Norm," of course, is a very subjective term. Can I have a "teaching norm" if I've only taught four classes over two semesters? Anyway, I have been struggling through teaching THEO 422 "Christianity at Work." It's the final class for the Biblical Studies required courses for gen. ed. credits. So, there are several juniors and seniors and one or two sophomores. To sum up, I'm more of a discussion-oriented teacher and find that if I'm well-prepared, the discussion seems to come more freely and go more smoothly. However, this class proved me wrong. I have gone to class un-prepared, hoping to spontaneously produce mass amounts of discussion. Nada. I have gone to class with several anecdotes or other outside material hoping to spark conversation. Zilch.

So, last night, I was preparing for a lecture on "role models." We are talking about living out our character/ethics in such a way that people follow our example. In order for this subject matter to work, there has to be a conversation. I can't just tell them about Mother Theresa and say, "Go and do likewise." So, late into the evening, after Yadier Molina smacked in the go-ahead run to finally beat the Phillies, I started racking my brain. I googled "role model" and came up with this website which got their brains working towards who a role model is. This site mentions Christopher Reeves, Brad Pitt, Barbara Bush, etc. and was useful in trying to figure out why a person is deemed a role model. Then, I started thinking about the procedure of a fellow professor. He told me he uses video in as many lectures as possible. So, I hopped on the ol' YouTube.com and started looking for "role model" videos. That, quickly, took me to "hero" video content and the creative juices started flowing. I used five videos in the class all embedded in a PowerPoint presentation (which required this and this in order to just present the stuff. All of the things that YouTubers suggested wouldn't work for embedding the videos, so I had to look here for some help.

So, I used the "online" approach and was able to see the videos and use them as conversation stimulators. I started with this: and talked about the people who do not want to be role models and how that is thrust upon them. Then, I moved to this: to illustrate a good role model. He wasn't someone with fame or success as we measure it, but saves a stranger's life and becomes a heroic figure. Then, we went to this: to illustrate the difference between good and bad role models. I talked about the pedestal we lift sports figures upon and when they come crashing down, our world is destroyed as well. I also talked about Mark McGwire and how St. Louis fans really don't know what to think about him, now. That was "on the fly" so no video on that. Then, we talked about ethical vs. non-ethical role models. The non-ethical role models are people who are successful and who's strategies and/or hard work we can emulate to make ourselves better. The ethical role models are people who's ethical standard exceeds our own. I used the foremost ethical role model who shaped generations of children, Mr. Rogers: Then, I finished with a song by John Lennon performed by Green Day: in order to show how these ordinary people became extraordinary heroes by simply surviving.

I was really happy with the discussion that created. I wasn't going for something political and could have used several examples of people here who have overcome circumstances, but with the limited time this is what I came up with. I used this last video to say, How will you be remembered? Is your example something worth emulating? Are your role models people who are worth emulating?

Any thoughts? Criticisms, etc.? I'm trying to engage this class and utilizing a medium with which they are very familiar seems to be helping. The three cups of coffee I had before class seemed to help me sell it.

A Change of Direction

2007-08-17T10:39:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking that I needed to do something different with this blog. At first, I was planning on creating a brand new blog with a catchy title and several contributors. Now, I just think I might add some contributors to this blog.

The catalyst for this movement came in the form of an offer to teach at Evangel University again. My thoughts were to create a biblioblog and force myself to think critically about this field I have chosen. The plan was to contribute a book review a week (with contributors rotating reviews) and posting thoughts on theological stuff, world events, or whatever we felt was necessary at the time. I'm still hoping to reach that goal, but for now, I'll have to take the reins myself and see if any other bloggers jump on.

In the midst of all this, I still have to prepare for three classes (Yay!) at Evangel and figure out how to manage the childrens' new schedules as well as spend time with my wonderful wife. So, posting might be sporadic until I can figure out a schedule and wrangle up some other bibliobloggers (to continue with the equine/Western theme).

I'm sure there will be random posts about hiking, the family, etc., but the focus will primarily rest on theological issues that concern us. We'll see what happens!

EDIT: Oh, and I'll still be posting my journal from my hiking trip oh so many months ago...

He drives!!!

2007-07-14T10:20:00.000-05:00

It's very frightening being a parent. Not only are you responsible for another human being. You have to make sure they're healthy make sure they learn what to do and what not to do and teach them how to survive on their own. Well, he's learning.

He has begun driving. if you'll notice, in the background there's an actual car zooming past going the opposite direction. This is not the "drive around the parking lot" or "drive through the field" driving, this is actual, on the road crossing busy streets driving.

Yesterday, I took him to the DMV and he took his permit test. He passed with only reading the first few chapters of the book (something he'll have to finish before he actually drives a lot). We celebrated at Taco Bueno, then I drove across two busy streets and he drove the rest of the way home.

When he got into the driver's seat the second time, he put his permit (now a card instead of a piece of paper) right in front of him on the dashboard. It promptly fell down behind the dashboard. So, I had to take the dashboard apart before I realized I could have just stuck my hand behind, under and around to get it.

Ahh, the adventure that is parenting. This is going to be so much fun. I've gotten to the point where if he is getting too close to the edge of the road on the right side, I'll just tap on the dashboard instead of grabbing it with both hands and yelling, "WATCH OUT!!!" He stays more calm that way...

50 days?

2007-07-13T07:33:00.000-05:00

Wow, it doesn't seem like 50 days since I last posted. Here's the short of it: Colorado was awesome, we have a new puppy, new Jeep and new house to move into. I'll post as soon as possible, but it might take me a bit. I have to pack!!!

Three days to go...

2007-05-22T23:30:00.000-05:00

Here it is, Tuesday, almost Wednesday. Man this was a long day. This morning went like a normal morning. I took the youngest to school, came back to watch SportsCenter and drink a cup of coffee.

Then, 'bout 9:30, it all went haywire. A friend called and told me that he had a used tire that I could come by and have installed because I decided to run over a huge nail this weekend. And as I was at his dealership, I came across an Architectural Digest in which was an advertisement featuring a Patek Philippe watch. *sigh* I miss working at the jewelry store.

Anyway, I decided last night that I was going on a walk today. Boy, did I walk. I filled my water reservoir last night, another bottle and two Clif bars this morning. I have to say that my new backpack is really cool. I weighed just my body and it came in at a certain weight. Then, I put on my backpack and came in at 30 lbs. heavier. Now, if I may remind you that here, here and here I walked with 20 lbs. It really is amazing how much difference 10 lbs. makes. It's huge...

I trekked, again, down the Galloway Creek Trail. This time, I started at the cemetery and walked north to the school and back, again. Another 7 miles with 10 more lbs. on my back, did I mention that? I managed to do all 7 miles (with a potty break) in 2 hours and 5 minutes with 10 more lbs. on my back. It was heavy. The first mile or two was pretty rough, then I realized that I was going to be late picking up the boy from school, so I got a move on and managed to make it.

It was too crazy after that for any in depth, life-altering moments of inspiration, but I accomplished something closer to what I had intended. If you can walk 7 miles in just 2 hours with a small elevation change, then you can probably walk 7 miles with thousands of feet of elevation change in a day. I think I will gain the most in my attitude. I managed to push through the pain and physical hindrances to accomplish my goal. Now, with that same motivation and intentionality, I'll be able to push past the pain and accomplish whatever goal I have set for that day.

I'm getting so excited I can't stand it. I'm planning on journaling and taking lots of pictures. So, when I get back, I'll fill you in on all of the details and life-changing moments.

The day after that

2007-05-18T08:08:00.000-05:00

Wow, it's been five days since Mother's Day. That means six days since my trek under Battlefield Road and through Sequiota Park. I'm not trying to be a big, fat slacker. No, really, I'm not. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

A brief recap: Well, Monday, I went to Evangel University. That's the school that let me come and spread my heresy last Fall. I knew that they wanted me to come back, but hadn't heard what classes or how many and it just so happened that I had borrowed a book from the department chair. How convenient. Towards the end of the conversation, he asked the million dollar question: How is it going with getting your credentials. What? Credentials? Oh, yeah, that's the application that's been sitting on the counter for a few weeks. Here's the backstory: The president of Evangel requires all the Theology professors, adjunct or full time, to have their minister's license with the Assemblies of God. Needless to say, my motivation to get my license is dependent on teaching at Evangel and not on actually preaching. My wife and I talked about this long and hard. We both feel that my expertise lay in the classroom and not the pulpit. I hesitate to say never, but I don't see myself in the pulpit. I guess I can see the president's point, but it doesn't make it any easier.

So, chair asked the big question and I had to tell him the truth. To make a "brief" story shorter, I have been working for the last four days on getting everything done that I can do. That means, meeting with people, passing out references, getting transcripts, all that's done. Now, I have to wait for the references to get in, then go take a test over all the things the A/G believes. What could be more fun??? Well, I've already been to the dentist and I don't have any cavities, so that's out.

I have talked to the chair recently and he told me that those who are seriously pursuing their credentials will have the opportunity to teach. So, that's the good thing. That means that I'll still be able to teach even without the paper in hand. That's a good thing.

So, now I'm six days removed from my last hike. That means I better get my new pack and get moving.

Day 7

2007-05-13T15:27:00.000-05:00

Today is sort of a lazy day. It's Sunday. It's Mother's Day and she decides what we do and I get to benefit because she just wants to have a nice, simple, relaxing day.

So, here's to all the mom's out there. I hope your day is simple and relaxing. I hope you're pampered and taken care of. I hope the kids are helpful and cooperative and I hope you are appreciated for everything you've done.

So, there's no hiking, no conditioning, no worrying. It's just sitting with my lovely bride and appreciating what she is: mother, wife, friend, encourager, etc. She's simply the best at everything she attempts. There is nothing at which she doesn't succeed. She's the best and I'm glad to have her as my wife and the mother of our kids. It's a lot less weird giving a Mother's Day card to my wife than it was giving it to my girlfriend. Happy Mother's Day!!!

Days 5 and 6

2007-05-12T14:53:00.000-05:00

Day 4, Friday, started with good intentions, as far as conditioning for hiking. However, my responsibilities with the family took over. I ended up subbing a half day at Glendale High School for the baseball coach. Which was cool because Taylor is on the team under a different coach. It was a good day.

Today, however, I kicked butt! Today was the first Saturday that we had no major plans. Thursday and Friday were off days, so I wanted to really push myself and put some miles under my boots. So, after a bit of a lazy morning, I took off around 10:30am and went to the Galloway Creek Greenway Trail. I hit the trail at 11:00am, straight up. It was a really easy trail with minimal elevation changes and no tricky footing (it's all paved). So, I wasn't worried about strength as much as I was worried about challenging my endurance. I wanted to hike 7 miles in 2 hours with a 20 lbs. pack. Of course, the entire way, I was thinking: Colorado is not flat, and this 20 lbs. is half of what I'l be carrying. So, I was excited about what I had done, but realized I had much farther to go. I feel like I did challenge myself by revving it up every time I started to slow down. I didn't want to just walk. I wanted to get on the move. I wanted to see if I could push past the exhaustion or the desire to quit. I successfully completed over 7 miles in exactly 2 hours.

One thing that helps when you're on the trail, whether it's on a mountain, valley, or paved sidewalk is that you have to get to where you're going. You can't stop. The motivation that comes from realizing that stopping and staying is not an option pushes you past the exhausted muscles and transforms your state of mind. You can't quit. Your car, or campsite, is miles away and you have to make it there before you stop. You have to get there before you can enjoy that "enlightening" moment when the weight drops from you shoulders and the constriction eases off your feet and you start eating that Clif bar, setting up camp and thinking about dinner.

A lot of times I'm asked why in the world would you walk that many miles with all that weight on your back? Well, other than the fact that you can't see a lot of the stuff I've seen in your car; you can't experience hearing a water fall, then coming around a corner to be blown away; you can't isolate yourself so completely in an RV; it's the sense of success when you get to the campsite. It's the ability to look behind you at all those miles and feet of elevation and say, "What's next?" Hiking challenges me on levels that I've never challenged myself before. Camping is the reward for a long day's hike. That's why we do what we do.

Day 4

2007-05-10T21:41:00.000-05:00

Day 4

Well, I took today off. No core strengthening. No hiking. No walking. Just planning. I talked to the buddy who invited me and we settled some things. Everyone packs their own food. Everyone cleans up after themselves and I'm going to get the rental car and they are going to pay me back. I'm going to get to Colorado by 7:30-8:00ish and set everything up with the car and first campsite.

We'll be staying at Olive Ridge the first night, them going to the Wild Basin Area for the remainder of our journey.

Today, I started planning my meals. I love backcountry camping. It's great to be able to plan out the meals and take time to really get an idea of how I want to eat and how I can prepare it on the trail. Jennifer was gracious enough to let me get a cookbook, too. This book is the coolest. There's also a Vegetarian one. Boy, hiking tastes good!

Day 3

2007-05-09T12:20:00.000-05:00

And Day 2 recap:

Yesterday I did what I said, I grabbed my new boots and loaded up a daypack. I knew I wasn't going to get lost or be out long enough to need food, so I just filled my new Camelbak with water and went to it.

First, however, I grabbed a fleece and added some weight to the pack to make it 20 lbs. and started walking. Our dog was so excited when I started getting ready, I took her with me. So, my 2 mile walk that should have taken 30-45 minutes ended up taking over an hour. It turned out pretty good. We mainly walked on the street so there was nothing really challenging as far as elevation or tricky footing. Afterwards, I jumped in the Jeep and drove the same route just to be sure of my mileage. Yep, 2 miles. Man, that's a long way from 10 miles...

So, today, I did the same thing: had the 20 lbs. pack and took off down the same route. I ended up taking a longer route just to add some miles. When I drove it on Tuesday, I thought is was 5 miles, but I double-checked today and it's just 3.5 miles. Hey, that's better than only 2! As I was walking along, I started to feel the rain. The forecast called for scattered thunderstorms for the entire week, but as the forecast was the same last week and didn't rain at all, I just took off in some cotton shorts and a performance T and planned on dealing with whatever happened. Well, it did rain. It started with the light sprinkle and then came the fat, drenching drops. It wasn't all that bothersome and as I came to the end of yesterday's route, I made the decision to keep going. After all, I was as wet as I was going to get. So, I trekked on through the rain with my toes nice and toasty. The boots have, after all, a Gore-tex membrane to keep the wet out and the warm in. Have I mentioned I love my new boots? Yeah, they're the best.

The rest of me was drenched, but I didn't mind. It reminded me of hiking the Ozark Highlands Trail on Spring Break my senior year. We hiked a 55 mile section from parking lot to parking lot, basically. It was day 3 when the rain came. Over halfway through the day (maybe 5-6 miles down the trail) when the rain started. We hiked through the mud and ended the day in a shelter that was carved out of the side of the mountain. Around the turn of the 19th century, they carved out the stone and shaped what they carved out into bricks and put them around the outside of the shelter stacked to meet the celing with two spaces for doors. It was just amazing sitting there on the floor of that shelter listening to the rain outside. Ahh, nostalgia.

But at the end of this hike, I was able to come home, take off my wet clothes and jump into a nice, hot shower. I finished the 3.5 miles in in just 65 minutes. That's better. I'm thinking about either doing that same route the next couple of days, or heading to the Ozarks Greenway Trail
that starts just south of where we live. That trail is 5 miles one way and I would have to go all the way down and back. I might leave that for this weekend or next week... Get into shape a little more, you know?

Day 2

2007-05-08T10:14:00.000-05:00

So, Day 2 comes only 7 weeks after the last post. Well, what can I say, it's been a busy two months. Taylor and I did get to Hercule's Glades. Aaron, the naturalist, tree-hugging, frog-licking, owl-petter, went hunting with his new uncle. Yes, I am aware of the contradiction, but the kid who cried over slaughtering cows for hamburgers wanted to go try to shoot a turkey. I don't know why or how, but that's what he wanted to do.

Friday morning, the day we were to leave, was spent with Aaron getting his hunting gear and license. Then, Taylor and I went out to get what we needed. We went from hunting stores to Wal-Mart to outdoor specialty stores. In order to enjoy the next day in nature, we spent the previous day entirely in the car. One stop was made picking up my new friends:

With Aaron headed to Waynesville around 6:00pm, we loaded the car and took off at 7:00pm to make the hour drive. We ended up arriving well into the evening and setting up camp, cooking and cleaning in the dark, but it was a good experience.

We took off at 9:00am on Saturday after a good breakfast and packing everything up. I stuffed as much in my pack as I thought I could carry and set off down the trail to Long Creek. We hiked a couple of miles and stopped to explore the creek a little bit. I brought some purification tablets with us because I knew we couldn't carry as much water as we needed. So, the plan was to hike to Long Creek, grab some water from the creek, then keep hiking. Now, this wasn't my first trip to Herc, so I knew that water is pretty scarce, but there had been several days of rain preceding the trip, so I thought finding water wouldn't be a problem. Well, that's what I get for thinking... Water, needless to say, was scarce. We ended up filtering water from a puddle through Taylor's, then using the tablets.

As we ate lunch, the ominous clouds to the south made me think another long-lasting rainstorm was approaching. Normally, we would have stayed and just hiked through it. Rain is your friend on a hot Missouri day. However, I had hiked ahead and tried to find the right trail that would cut northeast and take us to the eastbound trail that lead back to the parking lot. Well, the topo map that I had bought from the Conservation department didn't, exactly, match up with what I was experiencing on the ground, so I didn't feel like taking my son bushwacking through the forest and possibly getting lost until well after dark. So, we turned around and headed back. All-in-all, we did about 6.5 miles from 9:00am to 1:00pm, the last two, with Taylor in the lead, took us 45 minutes and from 800 ft. to 1300 ft. I was doing fine through the first few miles, even thought I was doing great, but then Taylor took off up the hill and I couldn't nderstand why my legs and lungs weren't working. The trek up the hill was a reminder that I haven't walked with 40 lbs. on my back up 500 ft. in a long time.

The weeks that have passed since then have been strange and full of all the little things that keep us busy. So, today is the day. I'm headed out with a loaded pack to get some miles on my new boots and try to get these legs into some semblance of shape. I have three more weeks and am going to try and get out everyday in order to push my body to a level of fitness that will keep me going in the mountains of Colorado. So, here's to walking 'til my legs fall off!

10 weeks

2007-03-21T09:56:00.000-05:00

Okay, here's the story. A good friend of mine called me last week and asked me to join him and a couple of guys he knows on a hiking trip. Right now, the destination is one of three places: Pueblo, CO, Tucson, AZ, or outside Las Vegas, NV. Vegas would be fun, after killing myself physically for four days, I could kill myself financially! How great would that be?

A little background: If first started hiking when I was in high school with some guys from my church. I live in the Ozark Mountains of Southwest Missouri, so hiking trails are plentiful. In two years, I had racked up almot 200 miles on the trail. The longest outing was a five day trip doing a 55 mile loop of the Ozarks Highland Trail in northern Arkansas. Everything I had was either on my back or distributed throughout the five hikers. Man, good things happen on the trail. We made up several random trail songs, slept in natural structures, tents and underneath the stars the last night. We hiked seven miles one day averaging 1500 foot elevation change, 14 miles another day averaging just a few hundred feet elevation change. We saw huge rivers and dribbling creeks, bright, sunny skies and torrential downpours. It had to be the most amazing nature trip I've been on to date (excluding, of course, my honeymoon). That was all 10 years and almost 40 pounds ago.

So, in order to get in shape for this hike, my wife and boys have decided to help me. I have ten weeks. Ten weeks seems like an eternity. I should be in amazing shape in ten weeks, right? Sure, that would take discipline, though. I'm not the best at discipline. It's not my forte. We have set up a training schedule. Each week, I'll increase the mileage and weight in a backpack with the goal of 15 miles and 40-45 lbs. in the pack. My thought is that if I get up to that mileage and weight, I should be able to do less mileage at higher elevation. I'm starting small: 1 mile, no pack on Missouri roads. I'd rather not overexert myself on the first week.

Next week is Spring Break. That means, no substitue teaching jobs and time at home with the kids. This should be the perfect week to take the boys out into nature and show them how the old man does it. I hope it turns out that way. Both have been in Boy Scouts, so they should be able to help with the camp responsibilities, so we should have a great man trip. Last time didn't go so well. We tried to camp out in their grandparents' acreage. Well, we got a late start and had to set up camp in the dark and the next day, I foolishly let them go off alone while I tried to clean up the campsite (leave no trace).

This time, we're going to Hercules Glades. That's my favorite spot in southwest Mo. I've logged several miles at Herc and know a lot of the trails by heart. There's enough elevation change to get a pretty good trail workout, but a limited supply of water. We've had a lot of rain this week, so, hopefully, we'll be okay.

Man, I can't wait! It's time to get out into the woods. Why? Because it's there.

My Fair Lady

2007-03-16T08:30:00.000-05:00

Five years ago, my wife and I went on our first date. Surprisingly, given my penchant for touching the leather of my shoe to my uvula, it went well. We took in a show, had dinner and great conversation. It was, dare I say, magical. Somehow, that lovely lady decided I was okay to marry and in May of '03, she actually said, "I do." (insert shotgun joke here)

Three years, nine months, fifteen days and seventeen hours after getting married, I sill miss her when she's gone. I still scramble to her side of the bed to hold her before she wakes up. I enjoy walking from garage sale to garage sale with her. I love teaching with her. I just like having her next to me. She's become my best friend and that's the highest compliment I can give her: I can be stupid and ridiculous and completely immature and she shakes her head and holds me close.

Here's to you, baby, and to 80 more years!!

Sorry I've been away.

2006-11-15T17:39:00.000-06:00

Since my last post a few things have happened. I am teaching New Testament Literature at Evangel and am enjoying it, immensely. I'm not landscaping anymore for which my back and knees thank me. My wife has recently scored a great career-type job with Patterson Dental which will blow anything that I have ever attempted to make out of the water. Our oldest is 14 and on the 8th grade basketball team. Our youngest played Mighty Mites football which he loved. After that, he broke metatarsils 2, 3, and 4 and can't play basketball. So, that's that.

Oh, did you hear the Cardinals won the World Series? I love what these guys had to say:

After Anthony Reyes won Game 1 with 8 innings and 2 earned runs pitching the game of his life and Albert Pujols hitting his first World Series home run:

The Cardinals entered Game 1 with fewer regular-season victories (83) than any team in World Series history except the 1973 Mets (82). The Tigers, like the Cardinals, struggled badly in the second half. Both teams entered the playoffs on a dubious note, with the Tigers being swept by Kansas City in the final regular-season series and thus handing the NL Central to Minnesota while settling for the Wild Card.

It didn't matter. (by Mark Newman)

When Moses came down the mountain with the stone tablets, upon which God's fundamental instructions to mankind were written, he may not have fully understood the full meaning of the 11th Commandment:

"Do not pitch to Albert Pujols when something is at stake and first base is open."

You can see where this commandment might not have the moral weight of those commandments forbidding, for instance, murder or adultery. But in its own way, it is just as basic. There are things that you just can't do. Maybe the waters of the Red Sea can be parted. But, eventually, Albert Pujols will get you. (by Mike Bauman @ MLB.com)

After the Cardinals won game 3 5-0 behind a Carpenter 3 hit, 0 earned runs pitching clinic:

The Tigers are playing as if they'll be charged a late fee if the Series lasts seven games. Carpenter handcuffed them to the bedpost and noogied them to death, allowing just three hits, issuing no walks and striking out six. He was more efficient than a Swiss train schedule. (By Gene Wojciechowski @ ESPN.com)

Chris Carpenter could not be hit by the Tigers. But he also could not be questioned by the authorities. (by Mike Bauman from MLB.com)

"Nothing is more important to a new house than a good Carpenter." (Tim Kurkjian on ESPN Sportscenter)

After the Cardinals won the World Series in five games behind great pitching from Jeff Weaver.

Dancing, then falling as a group before 46,638 paid, the Cardinals, a team seemingly splitting at its seams weeks ago, celebrated the redemptive power of October more than any team before them Friday night.

The first team to baptize a new facility with a World Series championship since 1923, the CArdinals won their first Series title since 1982 by completing a five-game domination of the Detroit Tigers with a 4-2 validation oat Busch Stadium.

(by Joe Strass @ The St. Louis Post Dispatch, the one with "YES!" on the cover. I have one...had to wait for an awfully long time and guard it with my life leaving Barnes and Noble, but I have one.

In his 1,851st game as the Cardinals manager, regular season and postseason, Tony LaRussa got it don. The number on his back is no longer 10 pounds of burdenome weight, or the symbol of an unfulfilled promise. It stands for 10 World Series championships. An imperfect team delivered a perfect 10.

(by Bernie Miklasz @ St. Louis Post Dispatch, same paper)

In the end, Adam Wainwright, who said he didn't know if he'd make the team out of spring training and hadn't closed before September, finished the World Series for the Cardinals, who (censored) near blew a 12-game lead, and the final game was won Jeff Weaver, who was designated for assignment in Anaheim because he lost his job to his younger brother. Oh, true, the Cardinals had the lowest winning percentage of any champion, and there were all those mudstains from Tiger pitchers whose throws went bump in the night...

But who is left standing at the end is not about wrong or right, but good -- and bad -- and the convergence of time and place. And this wet, frigid World Series will forever stand as testament to the rusted signs we ignore throughout our lives, choosing the shiny ones instead. It's not about the best player at every position. October baseball is like March college hoops -- random, streaky, proof that most of the sport's predictions are invalid and intellectually dishonest.

(by Peter Gammons on ESPN.com)

I guess that about says it all, huh?

Three days shy of two months.

2006-03-27T22:01:00.000-06:00

My wife quietly slumbers on the couch and I lazily trapse through blog after blog. Looking at insights and ramblings. If I shared my feelings at the moment, they would leak out like an old faucet; one drip at a time. No better place exists than just to be.

I finished my ginormous freaking paper. You know, the one in which I chronicled my entire seminary education and distilled it into thirty pages? Yeah, that's the one. Now, I sit and wait. Something must come along sometime. Right now, I wait. For what? Whatever comes next. The greatest emotion in the world rests in its absence. No stress. No laughter. No anger. No worries. No excitement. Just peace. Existing to exist. When what continuously occurs strikes me as new, then I know I have ignored the simplest things. Existing supercedes essence. How I live bears more impact than the outcome.

Ode to Dr. McGee...
The craziest thing: I find I try to limit the use of 'verbs of being' as I blog. Count 'em: two!

One last and final semester

2006-01-30T08:16:00.000-06:00

It's almost over. My last semester is here and in full swing. I shall soon be a Master of Arts. Lisp, leotard and all. Gives a new meaning to "spiritual fervor" doesn't it?

So many cliches come to mind. My final semester dawned with no great fanfare or celebration. The end of Hebrew beckons and the final (big ass) paper threatens. I only wish this would fulfill my dreams of corrupting the young minds of tomorrow and disrupting the forever docility practice of faculty lunches. See, I'm smart, now. I can make up words! Crap, I looked it up. It's already a word. Maybe I'll do better after my Ph.D. Professors are always making up crap. I can't wait!

The great thing about this semester is that I only have four classes. One's done, one is a practicum and one is Hebrew with lots and lots of take-home assignments. The other course is designed to help us successfully write the final paper. The syllabus says 35-45 pages. Colleagues and professors say 80-100 for a really good one. What the crap? That would be the equivalent of a Master's of Theology final thesis which is about one-third of the doctoral thesis. Why do I subject myself to overreaching? One word: and when I find that one word, I'll be smarter than I am, now. For now, just know that I love you. And pray for the wife and kids. They will need it more than I.

Why did the Padres sign Piazza?

Check...

2005-12-16T22:07:00.000-06:00

Hebrew 1A. Check. Christianity to the Modern/Post-Modern Eras. Check. Studies in Johannine Literature: Epistles. Check.

One more semester down. One last, final, ultimate semster to go. The worst thing about school is procrastination. The best thing about school is being done with something. Somehow, the two are intertwined. When the semester begins, there is promise. Hope, even. Plans are made to "stay on top of things." "Do better." "Read more." I can't say that things stay so optimistic. So, at 4:00 am this last Wednesday morning, I finished my paper. I was, however, on time. They don't take kindly to graduate students turning in papers late, I've noticed. I was late on one and I thought my eternal security was in jeopardy. Things are going to balance back out over the next few weeks. Like tonight, I spent three hours of quality family time at the mall trying to figure out what my 13 year old son was going to get his mother for Christmas. I've found that getting this 13 year old to think about anything other than shoes or his hair is quite a feat, or is it fete.

I have to say that through this entire ordeal known as grad school, my wife has been the most amazing person. I don't know a person who has so much class and grace. She has poured herself into me and my work selflessly and entirely. And as she sleeps here beside me because she's worked so hard at keeping the boys from hating me because I'm never around or I'm cranky when I'm trying to read and they're trying to play basketball or because she's working so hard to provide that which is lacking by my part time hours, I just want her to know that I'm grateful. She's the best friend I've had in my life and she deserves this degree way more than I do.

So, here's to her!
May she find rest when we finish this step and strength to take the next. May her patience endure for rest of the 77 plus years we have left.

P.S. She's the one on the right.

Thanksgiving

2005-11-28T12:45:00.000-06:00

I love my grandparents.

That was good to get off my chest.

See, it hasn't always been the case. I have the most normal, uneventful family in the world. My ancestry has its alcoholics and servicemen, but no horse-thiefs or moonshine runners or underground railroad rebels. It's just a normal family. So, this post might seem to be boring to some. But to me, it's a revelation.

I remember as a kid everyone at school and church would speak fondly of their grandparents. They would go over to their house and be treated to strange and extravagant meals and have gifts lavished upon them. It was weird to me that this only happened at one grandparents' house. The other grandparents' house had a stifling air of intolerance. I was never beaten by my grandparents, nor molested. I was never physically abused by any stretch of the imagination. But there were comments that I heard. Once, I had split my head open and received 28 stitches. I had to have peroxide poured over the wound every night so the scabs would allow the skin to heal. While I was receiving the treatment from my mother, my grandmother poked my gut and said, "Josh, you're fat." My mom tried to soothe the remark, but to a twelve-year-old, this was devastating.

Other memories included my mother sobbing because the same grandparents said they didn't feel welcome in our house. I didn't understand this; everyone else, on both sides of the family felt as if our house was as comfortable as theirs (the exception, of course, being the blow-up beds).

I heard my dad tell me the story of how he and my mother were engaged. He asked her to marry him in the back of her dad's car as they went to a gospel concert some miles away. His token of love was a pendant that she still wears. It was a pendant and not a ring because they had to keep the engagement from his parents. The story goes: my dad had been dating their pastor's daughter and everyone was excited at the prospect of their marriage. Well, everyone except my dad. So, he quietly broke things off with her and noticed my mom in February of their senior year of high school. The engagement was in the late spring of 1969 and the wedding on November 21 of that same year. So, the enmity between my mother and grandmother goes back over 36 years.

These anecdotes and more, which were pushed to the back of my memory, were brought to the surface on Thanksgiving evening as I sat beside my grandmother's bed and watched a machine pushed oxygen through her body. I remembered the comments and the feelings and the confusion as my dad spoke fondly of his mother. Also, I remembered that I hadn't been the best grandson. Since my grandmother had been ill, I had been the grandchild that visited her the least and called her even less. I remembered that God doesn't call us to like what people do, but to love them and forgive them. I sat there and told her that I forgave her for what had happened to me. I asked for forgiveness for the bitter feelings that I kept in order to excuse myself from feeling anything. I realized at her bedside that I didn't want to hold any grudges. I realized that she was about to pass away and I didn't want to know that things were not resolved. I got resolution in my heart that night. I prayed that God would help her forgive me and that God would take my forgiveness and reassure her if she needed it. I am thankful for that opportunity.

A couple hours later, Myrtle Marie Mattix breathed her last breath a few short weeks shy of December 19, 2005 which would have been her 83rd birthday. Her entire family, minus a daughter that died in 1992, was there to visit her before she died. The memorial service was Saturday in order for everyone to be able to attend and get back to various appointments and responsibilities on Sunday.

If you could remember my dad and my grandfather in your thoughts and/or prayers, I would appreciate it. They miss her a lot.

You say you want a Revolution

2005-11-01T16:30:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time, I wanted to use this blog as a means to hone some skills. In my graduate work, I have to write several book reviews and other assorted papers. So, this summer, for instance, I wanted to read some fiction and write about the strengths/weaknesses and breadth/limitations of those books. Well, since summer has gently sweated its way into fall I see no reason of starting, or returning to that now. And, trust me, you don't want to hear about what I'm reading, now. The most interesting book has been: The Life and Thoughts of Hanzo Uchimura.

Of course, there is Exegetical Fallacies which is a candle burner. I can't tell you how many nights I have stayed up just to get through to the end. And, of course, everyone's bedside companion The Dictionary of Later New Testament and It's Developments.

The list goes on and so do the hours I put into reading these books. The redeeming part is that the end is in sight. At least, the end of this stage. Then, I can return to fiction. In all of this school work, I'm learning a lot about dissenting viewpoints that, in effect, didn't win the debate. Of course, all of the viewpoints that are discussed in my classes are held within the realm of "Christianity." This term encompasses all the divergent movements such as Protestantism, etc. Historically, there was one Church. The Catholic Church (as it has come to be known). Around 500 years ago, this guy got it into his head that there was something wrong with this Church that had been around for 1500 years or so. So, he made a big deal and wrote a series of arguments and nailed it up on a door. Well, the world has never been the same. This is severely abbreviating 2,000 years of Christian history, but that's a real turning point. All of a sudden everybody can think for themselves and the Catholic guys are just pissed because they have to support their traditions with something other than tradition! Talk about a lot of work!

What I think is really hard to grasp for us in the twenty-first century is that when this guy disgreed (and made it public that he disagreed) he upset the entire social order. In those days, there was one Church and pretty much everybody belonged to it; being European was being Catholic. It was a part of your identity. Individualism or existentialism would have landed you in the funny farm, or worse at the stake via the Inquisition. There were Muslims, Buddhists, pagans, etc. But most of the world held the same fundamental beliefs. Can you imagine, for those of you in America, that if you were to, oh, I don't know, publish a dissenting opinion, maybe on a blog site or something, and someone of any authority read it and, immediately, demanded you recant or you would lose your ability to peacabley live in the United States? In the Medieval world, this is kind of how it worked. If there was a disagreement with the church, you were excommunicated and it affected everything in your existence. Your friends would no longer hang out with you. Your business was going to be limited to whoever you could find that wasn't a part of the Church and that was extremely difficult to do.

It's easy to talk about moving away and starting over when all you have to do is move a few miles away and get another job, but what if we couldn't do that? What if the only way to make our opinions heard is by turning society on its head?

Old Busch

2005-10-18T21:03:00.000-05:00

These are some of my pictures of Old Busch Stadium. They were all taken when my wife and I spent our second anniversary there in 2005.

There will be more coming.

Katrina

2005-09-11T21:09:00.000-05:00

I know that there are several other blogs that more eloquently berate the slothful response of the government or the amazing communal response of those in Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, etc. I don't want to address either situation. I know that most of the people that read this are Christians or sympathetic to Christianity because you have either put a link on your site, or you find me via someone who has. So, my request and my address is to you is this: Pray. When you think you've been inundated with the images and emotions of the horror in New Orleans, keep praying.

I work with Joel and, like him, the tragedy has touched my life in a way that I have never imagined. The range of emotions experienced by the people that call our offices are from rage at inaction to tears because we have, finally, been able to offer some assistance. I have sat in my dark, bleak cubicle with some reminders of things that are lovely (i.e. my wife and kids...and, of course, the Cardinals), but these things don't ease the pressure that builds behind my eyes as I answer another call to offer another perspective of the same tragedy. I hear a father staying in his son's dorm room. The rest of his several-member family was forced to leave the room because there were too many people and the facilities could not support them. Or there's Mrs. Boudreaux, with her fitting French Quarter-sounding name, she tells me that her husband is aware of the damage to their house because he is a police officer in New Orleans and has returned home while attempting to maintain some semblance of peace. Speaking with her reminds me of talking to my mom when she was worried about my dad during a recent surgery. I respond to her quaking voice attempting to reassure her that everything will be okay.

In an attempt to ease some of the emotional strain, my wife suggested I make a list of just a few people with whom I have spoken and bring them home to pray for them. I have found that if it is by my phone at work it's easier to keep my calm after an angry caller if I just glance at it and pray that God will keep them safe and give them supernatural strength. I would encourage anyone who is tired of seeing the water and waste and crying mothers: before you change the channel to whatever show or game that helps you escape from the images say a prayer. It doesn't have to be a theologically based expansion of Moses' blessing to the Israelites (Numbers 6:25ff.), but just ask God to strengthen them and bring peace. I'm not one for idolizing those who have taken people into their home. If this is your way to minister, go for it. Demands on daily life are still there even through this tragedy. On that note, this guy I went to high school with is in Baton Rouge starting on his doctorate in history. He just started this semester. When he heard how many people needed somewhere to stay, he opened up his one bedroom apartment to a couple of families totaling 13 people. That humbles and amazes me.

Pray for him, too.

Super Student to the Rescue

2005-08-24T09:08:00.000-05:00

We have reached that time of year when all parents rejoice. At least, the ones who don't have to gather the apples of so many parents' eyes and try to inscribe something on the tabula rasa. It's time for school! The excitement is lost on me. I can't help it. I'm glad that I don't have to worry about them killing each other while I'm at work, but with the boys' return to school comes my return to school. No, I don't accompany them because I'm in the same grade, thankfully. I have to return to the sacred and most hallowed halls of seminary so that I can become equipped to indoctrinate the next generation of students. Well, maybe the generation after that. See, I'm not stopping with my Master's degree. I have warped myself into thinking that it won't be too difficult to get a doctorate with a wife, two kids and a job. Surely, not. Nothing is too difficult for me, I'm super-human. I can deflect criticism with the power of my mind. I can read faster than a limping sloth. I can write theses better than a trained monkey. This doctorate thing should be no problem! Greek? Hebrew? Pah-shaw I say. I know several words in Spanish. I can learn a language that doesn't use the same alphabet (and is no longer spoken). It should be a cakewalk. I always use that excuse: "Well, how do you know what it says? It's a dead language!" They get some vindictive pleasure when the reduce their students to blathering piles of defeated, non-critically thinking undergrads. It's really not fair. But what else do I expect? They paid their dues and it's only right to put us through the wringer.

My only saving grace is that I do like what I'm learning. I get to figure out what all this theology stuff means. I get to look at the checkered past of so many religious institutions and peek at the skeletons in their closets. It amazes me when people steadfastly cling to archaic maxims as if directly from God to man. I can’t help chuckling when someone orgulously quotes a pastor as if his recounting of history is more accurate than what actually happened. I’m all for being zealous, but I think we need to have the facts straight before we start persecuting people because they don’t agree with us. But I digress.

So, as my boys head back to school, so do I. I return to the sacred halls of learning to prove myself worthy of entrance into the holy, ivory tower.

Let's Get Physical

2005-08-04T12:50:00.000-05:00

He he. I'm sorry. I can't stop giggling a little bit.

I am the step-father of a 13 year old boy. They make me giggle. He's headed to the seventh grade in a few weeks and with that comes the aspiration of Junior High Football. He's been incredibly amped about it for weeks. We've been in the backyard throwing passes and making diving plays until he collapses. This is all him, mind you. I'm doing my best to not be that dad that makes his kids do things they don't want to do, but they do them because they want to meet your expectations. Two exceptions: keep your mouth shut with food in it and respect your momma.

In anticipation for the upcoming foray into the mini Grid Iron, he learned that he needed a sports physical. We both had a general physical before he went to Boy Scout camp, but that wasn't a real physical. It was a blood pressure, heart rate, have-you-had-a-heart-attack kind of physical. No disrobing. Sans coughing. So, he hadn't experienced the joy of having your manhood manhandled. I didn't really know if I was going to prepare him. It's one of the vindictive pleasures a parent has to pay back all of the worrying. Needless to say, I hadn't said anything about it until he asked me last night. I was fixing dinner (grilled chicken and spaghetti) and put some chicken out on the grill when he walked out the door and sat down in a patio chair and, very seriously, said, "I need to talk to you for a second." I had to run inside to wash chicken slime of my hands and then I rushed back outside. He was relentless. I couldn't help but grin when the words came out of his mouth, "What happens during a hernia check?" *giggle* I looked at those beautiful brown eyes and just had to tell him. I explained everything to him and encouraged him not to worry. If he wanted me there, I would be there. So, the rest of the evening, I couldn't help tormenting him just a little bit with small, random coughs.

What is it about sports physicals? I remember my first one. It's always the prettiest nurse that takes you back. This does nothing to make you more comfortable. While we were waiting, he saw the nurses and his voice shook as he told me he hoped it wasn't a girl that checked him. Why does the old doctor insist on trying to make you laugh while doling out nuggets of wisdom and examining your nether regions. This morning, it was "Don't be afraid to get hurt, the alternative is just sitting in your house."

I have to say that Tay took it like a champ and was just fine. We were in and out in about 45 minutes and he gave me the old "That wasn't so bad" nod as we got into the car and drove home. I can't wait for football season to start.

P.S. I know you ladies have it 100 times worse, but I'm a guy and he's a guy and I wanted to share.

It's Gettin' Hot in Herre

2005-07-28T11:45:00.000-05:00

Fahrenheit 451.

This was a hard book to review. It's not that it was difficult to read or understand, but the reputation that comes with the book invokes this feeling of responsibility to unearth a hidden truth or profoundly state the true meaning of the work. I'm just not like that. The feeling that was evoke most prominently, after the aforementioned one subsided, was fear. I was scared that our country could develop into this sort of society. The society that demands conformity to ignorance. You are labeled and perform. There is no consideration of society. Everything is laid out in a neat little pattern and failure to conform means you have been provoked by outside forces and your possessions must be searched and the offending ones exterminated. I know what I fear will not come about in my lifetime or even my children's lifetimes, but if there is a leaning today, there may be a movement tomorrow.

The point of this review is not to spout socio-political rantings (God knows there's enough blogs like that out there), but the book provides the springboard for such a conversation. So, I'll keep this review short and sweet. I like Montag's development in the story. There is this nagging thing in the ventilator at his home that urges him to open a cover and discover. I like Clarisse who pushed Montag to think about things for himself. I want to be one of those people. One of the reasons I want to be a college professor is so I can engage in intelligent debate and, hopefully, challenge students (and colleagues) to try different perspectives and to never be satisfied with what they are being fed. I don't want to be stuck in the rut of accepting things at face value and fear challenges. When we hesitate broaching a topic of conversation for fear of having to defend ourselves, we are more than likely holding to a position that is too weak to defend. Whatever passion burns in us, we must constantly reflect on our motives and methods to determine whether we are out of touch or we need to step back and help some others along.

For the political side of things: I'm with the people who are shouting "Injustice!" when government goes to far and starts indicting those who have done their job and happen to have exposed the not-so-pleasant side of things.

This book made me ecstatic.

Watch your step.

Up next...As you can probably tell by my lengthy absence, life has been crazy for the past few weeks. The parents have visited, three birthdays have happened, the kids have gone to West Virginia, the wife and I have been spending some much needed quality time together and I have only read the sixth Harry Potter book. My priorities have suddenly shifted. I tried to adjust the look of things so that it's not so annoying to look at and I'm working on a couple of books. I'm trying. Maybe next will be my Cigar Aficianado magazine. It's got Michael Jordan!

To begin...

2005-06-30T10:00:00.000-05:00

My intent for the summer was to read a book a week and post a critique or random musings about how I felt about the book. So far, I have finished one novel and three Harry Potter books. So, there's not much there to critique.

When I finish a book, it's like that last swig of wine. It's pleasing as it hits the tongue and flows down the gullet, but when I want return to the glass to have another taste I find that it's over. Finished. There's just that little, annoying drop that never leaves the glass no matter how hard I pound it against my face. Well, it's something like that.

When I finish a book, it's like finishing a long hike that I really didn't want to finish. I want to go around a bend and find just one more stretch of trail, but I find the trailhead instead. So, I walk around the parking lot just to get the last bit out of my legs. Well, it's something like that.

I know that the best thing to do after I finish a book is write about how it impacted me, but I never feel so inspired. At least, not from Harry Potter because my scar is not on my forehead and I don't have a wand. In a book from a series, I find that the big questions are never really resolved.

So I guess I have to write about a book I finished in April, or somewhere around there. It's called More Die of Heartbreak by Saul Bellow who is a Noble Prize winning author. The parameters of the book are laid out in the first chapter. It’s narrated by a nephew and the other main character is his uncle. The nephew describes his botanist uncle as being a gifted, scientist-eccentric that wanted to be conscious of the world around him instead of "[claiming] this privilege of human distance." Then, in my opinion, the thesis: "If he had canceled his 'outside connection,' he wouldn't have had so much grief from the ladies." I say this is the thesis because the nephew then recounts how his uncle deals with a new life after he has married an upper class bachelorette. The book discusses the uncle and his life in terms of how the nephew sees himself. The nephew sees himself as more akin to his mother's brother than to his own father who is quite a hit with the ladies and who struggles to understand why his son would move from Paris back to the Midwest to be with a botanist. This motif is weaved throughout the novel winding its way through the nephew's tale of his one-time lover and their illegitimate child and the feelings of inadequacy with her. He parallels this with his uncle's fear that his new bride is becoming less elegant and more masculine (this is discovered in a funny little scene where the uncle is in the basement laundromat of this majestic, up-town high-rise and describes how his bride has developed the shoulders of a man). The uncle arranges the marriage without telling his nephew even though the latter's "assignment was to preserve him in his valuable oddity." The uncle's inadequacy is heightened when his new bride's father, a doctor, takes him on his rounds and keep showing the uncle the genitalia of old people. The uncle is horrified, but the nephew dismisses it as the doctor trying to have some sense of comic escape during his depressing routine.

The important thins are the events that surround the main characters: how they react to each other's circumstances and how they react to their own. The uncle, more reserved and less emotional, as evidenced by his occupation as a botanist, adjusts his perception of things and you do not see him act out any of his thoughts or feelings that are shared with his nephew. The nephew, seemingly mild-mannered, does act out his frustrations on the former lover who bore a child, but did not want any commitment, by traveling to see her and making a mess of her bathroom. “The air was bad” in the bathroom, he claims. “It was worse than bad. The odors of a settled intimacy between man and woman (with child thrown in) rose from the floor, came at me from the towels, the pipes, the base of the bowl, smells of human ammonia, sulfides, organic acids…These stinks, I thought, choking an intruder (me!), were more binding than a marriage license.” This kind of description of relationships metaphorically residing in one or more of the five senses depicts the reality of them. No one thinks about an intimate relationship as being accepting of the various odors that emanate from a body, but this, in fact, is one of the truest evidences of the stability of a relationship.

Noteworthy quote: "The world as it appears to you classifies your mind."

I'd give it a look of indifference.

In progress: Fahrenheit 451.

The nectar of the gods

2005-06-17T15:44:00.000-05:00

Smooth. Rich. Dark. Steamy.

For those of you not thinking about Denzel Washington or Halle Barry, I am actually talking about the nectar of the gods - heaven in liquid form - coffee.

There have been few jobs in my life that I have thoroughly enjoyed. I worked at a jewelry store and the main thing that made me come to work everyday (no matter how perpetually late) was a group of friends. The other job that I enjoyed involved the coaxing of that blissful indulgence known as coffee from the latent vessel of the bean. I was a barista.

Now, the reasons for my entrance in barista-hood were to follow a friend I admired, experience the intellectual sparring behind the counter and get some chicks. The first two were fulfilled most expediently. The last took some time. I had to develop my skills until they were Cocktail-like. The flipping of the whip cream cans were a blur as the grinder hopper whirred and let escape the aroma of ecstasy. Within a couple of minutes, the result was finished and with artistic flair, handed to the expectant customer with salivating palate and I had the admiration of the entire cafe. The best part of working in that small cafe was getting to lead the customers in "Happy Birthday" when someone let slip that they were celebrating.

I can't help but note that the true enjoyment of a cup of coffee takes some time to develop. I can remember, before my palate had matured, heating up a cup of water and mixing in some, dare I say, General Foods International Blend of Cafe Vienna. A friend of mine recounted her boyfriend's method of drinking his coffee: "He drinks coffee like an eight-year-old girl. First, he asks the waiter to fill the cup three-fourths of the way up. Then, he puts in three non-dairy creamers, three packets of sugar and three cubes of ice." Eight-year olds, dude.

Thankfully, my similar experiences with restaurant coffee came to a close with a $17.00, quarter pound bag of Jamaican Blue Mountain The Holy Grail of coffee. It's like a pound of crack to the addict. A full pound will sell for about $50 in the States. It is the smoothest, richest, most incredible cup of coffee you will ever have the pleasure of drinking. Ever since I tasted that straight-from-the-gods cup of coffee, I feel as if the rest of my existence is just the passing of time until that next cup.

Kick back, grab a cup and share some coffee stories!

There is a season...

2005-04-04T13:27:00.000-05:00

In the spirit of spring, this post is dedicated to change.

After reading The Metamporphosis, by Franz Kafka, or at least the part that was allowed in school, I remember thinking that he's one crazy bastard. But I also remember psycho-analyzing it. The withdrawal from his family allowed him the opportunity to change into whatever he felt like. Even if his family didn't like it (which they proved by retaliating violently) he had to change into something.

If he was a teenager, or invoking some pubescent angst, I can relate. Looking back on my teenage years, the days spent in solitary reflection are days that were spiritually vibrant. I wrote, sang, laughed at myself and was at peace. When I was surrounded by family or other teens, I was nervous, anxious and constantly aware of whatever enormous pimple had erupted.

Now, I have a teenager. Well, as of June. The problem with my step-son is that he wants so badly to become a man, but doesn't know what kind of man he wants to be. His father died when he was 5 and I came along a couple of years ago and just leapt into the saddle and dug in my spurs. We have had a hard time adjusting to each other. I tumbled out of my comfort zone and was forced to deal with my short-comings as a man. I have never been so aware of my faults. Short temper, selfish, arrogant, close-minded. Everything has to coordinate with my idea of ideal reality and fitting a 12 year old into adult shoes is insane.

My first major breakthrough came when my wife suggested I not yell and speak to him calmly without getting frustrated with his attitude. It was incredible! I actually accomplished something! Also, this conversation, and subsequent conversations, have opened the door to really feeling like a dad.

I love my wife with intensity. I have devoted my life to her and, in turn, to the boys. They, however, are skeptical, at best, and when trust has broken down, it's really difficult to rebuild it with them. I know that they see through me. I know they see my flaws and shortcomings. I just don't know how to win them back. I'm skeptical, too. The oldest carries around a picture of his dad wherever he goes - even if it's only for a night. This makes me insecure. It's stupid, I'm supposed to be the strong one. Everyone tells me how brave I am for taking on this responsibility. Of course, hindsight is 20/20. The question I keep asking myself is: Would I have taken this on if I'd known how hard it would be? That's the million dollar question. Divorce is not an option, but if I were to do it all over again, I would deal with the boys in an entirely different way. First, I would get to know them and want to know them. Now, I know them and I want to love them.

When something happens and my wife sees my eyes flash red, she tries to calm me down a bit before I go off on them. See, she wants them to grow out of her love for them. Her sense of responsibility comes out of her heart of caring that they grow up to be responsible, well-adjusted adults. Mine comes out of a sense of responsibility. I want them to be responsible, according to my perspective of responsibility. I want them to fashion themselves according to my expectations. I don't want to keep these expectations. I want to let them change and adapt with their personalities intact. I want them to learn what their strengths are. I want them to learn how to love a woman like I love their mom. That's the best example I have for them. I surely don't want them to learn how to love their kids from my example. I am, however, working on it and want to love them like a father should. I want them to grow up and be proud of me, too.

In the beginning...

2005-03-19T20:25:00.000-06:00

There was a man who searched. He took "know thyself" to the extreme and examined his life. Then, when things got too difficult, he gave up. There was too much pain to woork through; too much hurt that stemmed from somewhere too deep to admit. Now, he wants his mind back. He wants to rediscover the agony and the ecstacy that brought him fulfillment. This is the beginning of the rebirthing...