Baby Baby - Amy Grant Songs

Grace Abigail McCumber
December 15, 2007
4:56 p.m. PST

7lbs. 15 oz.
21 1/2 inches long
brown hair

She's beautiful.
I cry more than she does.
I love her dearly.
Pictures coming soon.

(bad attempt at Haiku, but I am sleepy).

Baby Photo

Here is the first pic of the baby to be. Still no idea about gender.

Say It Ain't So, Joe

Disgusted. Dismayed. Not surprised. The Mitchell Report is out and tons of baseball players were named as part of the steroid scandal. What a terrible example to our youth. The only way to be the best is by cheating. By using drugs that will destroy your body. By lying. Great example from our national pastime. How can I sit in judgment? Easy, because professional sports have gotten way out of hand. I am ready to boycott baseball again. It hurts my feelings to know this, more than a 50 million dollar deal for a Japanese baseball player. Get a grip, pros. We can't afford to see you play anymore. And why would I want to see a bunch of cheaters. I'd rather watch a little league game. At least then, the only assholes there are poor-sport parents. I remember it used to be for the love of the game. I hope it gets back there again soon.

Oprah for President

Oprah did her big speech endorsing Barrack Obama. Much like a Jonathan Franzen novel, Oprah has said that Obama is her President of the month. Oprah's a powerful voice. Why I will never actually know (much like why we will never know how twinkies stay fresh forever), but she can convince the unconvinceable that something is good.

It got the little cogs of my brain working overtime. Could we actually ever elect the uber-minority President? Black, female, lesbian? Are we ready for it? And then it hit me. Why waste the time being the voice behind the curtain - Oprah, throw your beautiful nubiosity into the POTUS ring. She needs a spouse though, because Americans are not ready for a bachelor(ette) President. Could we handle Stedman, the First Lady? I dunno, but I wanted to take the time to imagine the world with Oprah as POTUS.

First and foremost, Oprah is totally qualified. I mean, she has obviously shaped public policy with her wisdom and leadership. And big business better watch out, look what she did to the Texas Beef Group. Lest we not forget her welfare program ideas - what homeless person wouldn't want a brand new Pontiac G-6. It's also great for single parents who need to run to the store to get milk in style. And economic policy, one only need look at her generosity with the cars - talk about fiscal responsiblity, this woman knows how to stretch a dollar.

Second, she already has a great cabinet in mind. Oprah & Friends would be fantastic. White House Press Secretary Gayle King. Secretary of State (and foreign affairs genius) Dr. Phil. Federal Reserve Chairwoman Jean Chatzky would put this country on a wonderful debt diet - we'll be whipped into shape in no time. Presidential Physical Fitness guy Bob Greene - ooh, gorgeous, physical - women would run laps for him. Dr. Maya Angelou (sorry, not even I can poke fun at her) as Secretary of Defense. Dr. Oz as Surgeon General (no "friends of dorothy" jokes, please - this is serious journalism).

Third, people love her. Much like the student union elections of our youth, the US Presidency is really just a popularity contest. OMG, everyone knows Oprah. Do you think Puty-Put Putin would dare do anything that might piss O off? No way, he'd be in the studio audience in no time with a lot of 'splainin to do. Coalition forces would bring peace everywhere because Oprah says so.

And here are some other minor reasons. She already has her own show. No more interrupting Heroes or Deal or No Deal or America's Got Talent. Oprah's already on 5 days a week. Talk about a President who would really reach us. And hey, with her readership of O and O at Home, nationwide referenda could be held to repeal that silly "no white after Labor Day" rule. Did I mention the lesbian thing? Shh, I think we can all wink to that! She covers the hard-hitting issues that I care about: "Is peace for real?," "Bobbi Brown's make-up tips," and "cooking on a budget." This is presidential material.

So, keep your Obamas and Clintons and Romneys (oh my!). In 2008, I'm voting for the big O.

The Music War

It's funny how music can start a fight. Believe it or not, religious music can start a fight. Or rather, the people who make the music start the fight. I am part of the United Church of Christ, whose motto is - Wherever you are on life's journey, you're welcome here. At our church, it is becoming more, "you're welcome here, as long as you don't wear jeans but like 300-year-old hymns, all others need not attend." I am a jeans guy (I wear suits all week). I know there is supposedly some concept that respect for God means you wear a suit. However, I don't recall Jesus wearing a tie or loafers. Anyways, the music war raged today, with our music director fighting the praise band. It was awful, and the worst part about is that people lost sight of why music ministry matters. There is line from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade that sticks with me ("Why do you seek the Cup of Christ? Is it for His glory or for yours?") Why do you do music ministry? Is it for His glory or for yours? The war reminded me of a speech I gave during my senior year in high school for a choir scholarship I received (we were in Gulf War I at the time):

Music.
A collection of tones and sounds and words.
An interplay of melody and harmony.
The movement and measure of our existence.
There is so much that music brings us.
Music stirs the soul and touches the wellspring of emotion.
Music moves us in battle, but encourages us to find peace.
Music tells of the love for another.
Music honors those we have lost through the years.
Music brings forth a smile and laugh.
Music covers the heartache and sometimes the tears.
Music is hope and wisdom and faith.
Music unifies people behind a common song.
I could not imagine a world without music.
No songs to be sung.
No horns to blast a brassy tune.
No strings to soothe the savage beast.
No beat and rhythm to which the pace of life is set.
When I was younger, orchestras, bands, minstrels would play in my head.
Now that I am older, I make music.
With every breath, an opus for all time.
Music.
A bit of us all that makes something better and greater.
(the rest is the thanks for the scholarship stuff)

I hope people read this and see God and music in a new light.

Ch-ch-changes (and other song lyrics)

Two weeks ago, I learned that I am going to be a dad. Yep, the call came in and here it is - two weeks (or so) till birth. I am scared. I am elated. I am nervous. I am confused. I am joyful. I get the honor of adopting a child, raising it as my own. Most people are supportive, as they would be, because hey - they aren't raising the child. Some people are confused (why I would do this, what is my sexuality, all that). One person is against it - mom. Yep, my mom is not okay with this. She has her reasons and I acknowledge them (I don't agree with them). So, as December 5th draws nearer, I wait. I could write a thousand more things about that, but I need time to soak it all in.

My senior pastor is leaving to accept a call at a church in Ohio. Last year at this time, our associate pastor took a senior pastor call. I miss his leadership. Our senior pastor's leadership is different to me, but no less important. I stepped up as youth minister. There ain't no way I am stepping up any higher (and thankfully, there is a plan for that - yay!)

I saw "Fred Claus" today. Was it cheesy and predictable? Yeah. And you know what, I liked it. Vince Vaughn is a comic genius (and producer of this movie). It made me happy to think about the Santa story in a new light.

That's it - no more rambling, especially since I watched "America's Most Smartest Model" (and wondered why I even own a tv anymore).

National Youth Workers Convention - Part 1

Okay, so for two and a half days, I have been soaking in the atmosphere and rocking nature of the convention. Here are some things I have learned in St. Louis:

1) While I dress like most other youth workers, I do not have the obligatory chin forest that some male youth workers have. It's not a goatee, but rather a bearded concept like Scott Ian of Anthrax. In fact, I think Scott Ian of Anthrax is here (or his brother).

2) There are a lot of Methodists in youth ministry. Yes, 3 of out every 4 youth workers I have met are from the United Methodist Church. That is not a bad thing, just a curious fact. I did find some UCC people. They are easy to spot, even in youth worker crowds.

3) The music rocks. I have seen great bands so far: Flatfoot 56, David Crowder Band, Matt Maher, Jars of Clay, Aieysha Woods, Family Force 5. Wow, talk about some diverse music. Amazing.

4) The speakers are good. Some are amazing. Some are okay. One was a tad repetitive and boring. But, that doesn't mean I am any better. Speaking of which, this morning (Sunday morning), I ended up leading a seminar on Middle School Ministry. It wasn't organized or planned out. However, it was weird to take some youth workers through an awkward topic (What do I do to make youth ministry work?) The best speaker, and most humbling, was Zach Hunter (the 15 year old abolitionist). Yes, I learned the most from the kid. The person who represents what our ministry is all about and has inspired me to encourage the souls of these kids.

So that is just a brief glimpse into the first few days. I will blog a bit more tonight about stuff. Tune in for more - or don't - it's Sunday and you should try to enjoy it.

PS: It was Sleep Out Saturday this past Saturday (where our youth at St. Matthew raised money for homelessness programs and slept out in the cold to understand the problem). 13 kids, 4 adults, and $3,000.00. Talk about coming together to serve, but more importantly to enjoy and appreciate God's message for us - LOVE GOD and LOVE OUR NEIGHBORS AS OURSELVES).

Truthfully

Okay, so I was going through my CD collection (which after working for radio station, is somewhat vast). Of course, I found an old album by one of my favorite artists - Lisa Loeb. The song is called "Truthfully." It's a love song, but when I listened to the lyrics, I found that it really defines how I view my relationship with Jesus. Here's the lyrics:

This isn’t what I like to call flattery,
But I know that I believe that I’ve found what’s true,
That I’ve found what’s you.
Truthfully i
I’m finding finally.
Truthfully you
You helped me find at last.
Truthfully we
Are finding out what’s true.
And truthfully I am finding out what’s you.
Surprise, cause I was flying the plane.
Surprise, cause now I’m smiling again.
Surprise, cause you showed up with your parachute.
Surprise, I’m kind of happy you showed up.
Truthfully i
I’m finding finally.
Truthfully you
You helped me find at last.
Truthfully we
Are finding out what’s true.
And truthfully I am finding out what’s you.
Truthfully, I really can’t explain, I’m floating, I’m smiling again.
Truthfully, I can’t ignore you, cause I’ve been waiting for you.
Truthfully, I’m not desperate, I haven’t changed my mind since we first met,
But the last thing that I want to do is to tell you that I’m right for you.
Truthfully i
I’m finding finally.
Truthfully you
You helped me find at last.
Truthfully we
Are finding out what’s true.
And truthfully I am finding out what’s you.
I’m finding finally.
Truthfully, I’m finding out what’s you.
I’m smiling again.
Truthfully

So, when I think of being lost and aimless, I know that Jesus is always waiting and finding ways to help me find out the truth. And He's right there waiting. How awesome is that?

When Jesus and Potter Meet

So last weekend, we had a lock-in at church and we watched the Harry Potter movie quintology (don't ask where the 5th movie came from). Anyways, in the stupor of minimal sleep, the youth and I came up with "Hogwarts High School Musical." Over the next few weeks (as I have time), I will post the new songs (which are just Disney High School Musical lyrics with a Hogwarts twist - please, movie companies - don't sue because this is a parody):

WE'RE ALL AT HOGWARTS TOGETHER
Together, together, together everyone
Together, together, come on lets have some fun
Together, we're there for each other every time
Together together come on lets do this right

Here and now its time for celebration
We took Voldemort out (yeah yeah)
That all the death eaters are in incarceration
That's what its all about(yeah yeah)

All four houses are special in their own way
We make each other strong (we make each other strong)
We're not the same
We're different in a good way
Hogwarts is where we belong

We're all in this together
Once we know
That we are
We're all stars
And we see that
We're all in this together
And it shows
When we stand
Wand in hand
Magic dreams do come true

Together, together, together everyone
Together, together, come on lets have some fun
Together, we're there for each other every time
Together together come on lets do this right

Wizards here
and speaking out with one voice
Elves will rock the house (YEAH YEAH!)
the party's on now, muggles make some noise
come on scream and shout

We've arrived becuase we stuck together
Champions one and all

We're all in this together
Once we know
That we are
We're all stars
And we see that
We're all in this together
And it shows
When we stand
Wand in hand
Magic dreams do come true

We're all in this together
On our brooms
We can fly
Know inside
We can make it
We're all in this toghether
Once we see
Theres a chance
That we have
And we take it

Hufflepuffs sing along
Yeah, you really got it goin' on
Ravenclaws in the house
Everybody say it now
Slytherins everywhere
Wave your hands up in the air
That's the way we do it
Gryffindors
Time to show the world

We're all in this together
Once we know
That we are
We're all stars
And we see that
We're all in this together
And it shows
When we stand
Wand in hand
Magic dreams do come true

We're all in this together
On our brooms
We can fly
Know inside
We can make it
We're all in this together
Once we see
Theres a chance
That we have
And we take it

Potions masters everywhere
Wave your hands up in the air
That's the way we do it
Let's get to it
Come on everyone!

Hippos

I have learned in my many years to never underestimate the value of hippos. They make you laugh, especially when they sing. Don't believe me? Check this out:
www.ebaumsworld.com/flash/hipponoodles.html

Heifer Ranch

On July 22, 2007, 11 youth and 5 adults departed from church to begin the long journey to Heifer Ranch, part of the Heifer Project International. We drove to St. Louis, our first stopover on the way, to assist Pilgrim Congregational Church with their summer urban outreach program. We set up the service in Visitors Park and listened to some wonderful music at an ecumenical service with the UCC, the Church of Christ, and the Presbyterian Church. We then spent the night at Pilgrim Congregational Church before we began the rest of our journey to Heifer.

Shortly before arriving at Heifer, we were delayed by some serious car accidents on I-40, which delayed traffic. Late Monday evening, we arrived at what is affectionately known as the Heifer Hilton, where we spent the night before heading to customs. Well-rested, we loaded up into our hayride to customs to begin our journey. When we arrived, we faced harsh airport officials, stolen luggage, and long delays. Our youth were sent to different regions; some of us arrived in the Mississippi Delta region of the United States, some landed in Tibet, and the rest of our youth were sent to Mozambique.

One of the difficulties we faced was the segregation of our group. Would we still have a good mission trip if we were all in different villages? What about this other church that was also split up with us? Yes, we shared our experience with Fieldon United Church of Christ, in Fieldon, Illinois (outside of East St. Louis). When we arrived at our villages, the St. Matthew Tibetans were assigned to the upper class (living in a well-constructed, albeit warm, yurt), as were the St. Matthew Mozambiqans (living in a multi-room brick home). The remaining St. Matthew Mississippi Deltans and I were assigned to the lower class (living in an abandoned school bus with a tin covered kitchen attachment).

On the first day, we worked our fields or tended to our animals or simply learned about our own family and our neighboring family. We were allotted a certain amount of supplies, given recipes, and we made dinner from the region. The second day was more intense. We work up early and completed our chores. Then it was time to work, since we would need food for lunch, which had to be purchased at the market. Unfortunately, every family faced some disease or affliction which severely cut into that income. Lunch was sparse and people began to realize what having no food may feel like. The Mozambiqans faced a different challenge. Not ordinarily having meat in their diet, they were blessed by finding a lost rabbit and capturing it. The decision had to be made – save the rabbit or save the family by eating the rabbit. After a long, long debate, the family, by consensus, decided to take the rabbit to the market to be butchered. We learned about power and control after lunch, but during our lesson, the unthinkable happened. A flood ripped through Mozambique, destroying possessions and bringing disease to the lower class Mozambiqans. We returned to our villages to come up with ideas to help them. Many of us wanted to take in refugees, but resources were scarce and money was short. So we began relief fundraising – by making jewelry, by giving tours of our regions, by working in the fields for extra pay. Slowly, the Mozambiqans were saved.

On the third, and final full day, we began the day much like the second day – chores and work and lunch. Before lunch, we were taught how to make cheese, which provided a very nice mid-day snack until lunch. Lunch was a tad different because all villages came to the market and we could trade with them. The Mississippi Deltans, who appeared to have more, traded well for sugar (a huge luxury) and as a result, had a decent sweet cake dessert with their lunch. After lunch, we learned about development projects and began to work on them: the Tibetans learned about building a solar powered electric fence to pen their animals to prevent overgrazing; the Mozambiqans worked with another village to pass on their knowledge of rabbit-raising and passed on one of their rabbits; and the Deltans developed a program to supply their own meat and produce to the local school system, thus improving the health of local children and keeping money invested in the community. The entire Ranch ate a meal prepared by the Deltans and all were treated to a special helping of goat-milk ice cream.

The fourth day was our departure day. We were all tired and hungry (and dirty from the lack of showers). But we captured what we learned and planned ways to spread the word about Heifer Ranch. We said prayers for the actual suffering in Zimbabwe. We prayed for the bond that had developed between St. Matthew and Fieldon UCC churches. And we packed up for the Heifer Hilton and the first shower we would have in days. Our youth had a joyous time and learned an incredible amount about combating hunger and poverty. As we journeyed home, we made a stop in St. Louis and took in the Arch. No one stopped talking about their experience the whole ride home.

Hiya

Hey all . . .
I know it has been about forever since I last dropped you a line. I have been a tad busy. A trial or two here and there at work eats into free time because it requires longer hours, which cuts into chores/required stuff outside of work, which reduces free time. I also just got back from my first mission trip as a leader. St. Matthew took 11 youth (2 of whom from another church) and 5 leaders to Heifer Ranch in Perryville, Arkansas. Talk about an adventure (we will in another blog soon). Then there is youth group (we are doing monthly movies on Sundays - today, the youth group saw the Simpsons Movie [yes, the parents knew about it].) I am a tad overwhelmed with all I have taken in over the last month. Youth Sunday is two weeks away so that is a busy planning time period. And next Sunday, I am preaching about clay vessels. I have lots to say, but until then . . . may God shine his face upon you always.

Why Do We Leave Our Hand on the Stove?

Cages or wings? Which do you prefer? Have you shackled your own self to conceptual versions of reality that you clung to once but no longer wish to envision anymore? Not really sure where I am going with these thoughts, but I can certainly tell you that I am enjoying the challenges of this round of self-discovery. In part because it's actual self-re-discovery for me. In part because I have had some really intellectual and sarcastic conversations with people I know. Seminary class (on the parables of Jesus) has also pulled a spiritual growth for me into the mix. All in all, when I clear my head, I won't be some monstrosity to fear. I will likely be a little different, but my personality has not and will not change. Sean remains through it all. What is even better is that I have been writing more. I spent time with my high school choir teacher and we jotted out this cool piano duet (I may play it at church sometime because it blends two cool styles - my teacher writes connectively whereas I write radially). Anyways, I miss my youth group - I haven't led youth group since June 13, and with holidays and family camp, we won't have youth group until July 18. It was suggested that we go see Evan Almighty this weekend - we may do that.

Fear or love, baby - don't say the answer. Actions speak louder than words!

Jump Back to Me Anytime

A lot has been weighing on me lately. Crazy trial schedules and appointments as the lawyer for children. Youth group imploded and I let it happen - cost me some youth - but nothing is perfect (and I expected that I would have a flop youth meeting at least once this year). My family is still family with all the quirks that they have. And with all that, I am still trying to figure out who I am. I hit a point in life where I needed to redefine. I think that is what makes my job with youth ministry a bit easier - the youth are all finding themselves and where they are going in life. I have the benefit of my years of experience to guide me. So, when we all talk, they get a sense that I know what they are going through.

I sat down and gave a more thoughtful prayer than I usually do. I don't do formal prayers, outside of church. I pray as I go, praise as it happens, reach out as the event is occuring. I imagine God saying, "Sean, breathe. Take a moment, write it all down, then call me." It's just me - impatience is something that's part of me. It's not that I don't know how to wait. I just want to move forward on it if I can. I wrote this one down and asked God to shine a little light on things for me - give me a general idea where to take things. He hasn't let me down so far in my life, so it's a safe bet I won't be lead astray.

Anyways, this wasn't meant to be a preachy blog or even a prayerful one. It's a placeholder to remind me to get myself back on track. Trials come and go. Youth meetings should flow, not be carved out. Family is a good thing. It's a reminder that I have something to do still - and when I figure it all out, it will be a pretty cool picture. I just wish that one friend was there to give me the "cheerleading" words that I used to get from him. I miss that.

Weird Facts Return

Every so often, I post a list of weird/odd/strange facts (and add my personal commentary to those facts). Hey, I admit that I am a huge nerd with an unusual amount of spare time on my hands (given my activity schedule). So, here goes:

Scientists believe that a meat-eating plant lives underground with no direct sunlight. (This just in - scientists believe that the moon is made of green cheese)

Monkeys fling feces at each other when agitated. (Which is where we get the phrase "throwing a shit fit")

Yawns are a way of communication. They don't signal that you are tired, but rather you want to do something different now. (Like reading another blog)

Killer whales capture fish by slapping them. (Funny, that's how I keep people away from me)

A shrimp's heart is in its head. (Republicans' heads are in their butts)

A ducks quack doesn't echo, and no one knows why. (LIAR! Mythbusters busted this!!!!)

A cockroach can live for several weeks without its head. (So can Republicans)

Elephants can't jump. (Did anyone ever think they could, c'mon)

The oldest piece of chewing gum is 9000 years old. (Eve had to have something after the apple)

More Monopoly money is printed in a year, than real money printed throughout the world. (And real money is spent just like monopoly money - nothing backing it and we can just print more later or steal it from the bank)

The microwave was invented after a researcher walked by a radar tube and a chocolate bar melted in his pocket. (Sadly though, he no longer could reproduce after that discovery)

Walt Disney was afraid of mice. (and Jews)

Ted Turner owns 5 percent of New Mexico. (Half of which went to Jane Fonda in the divorce)

Polar bears are left-handed. (The scientist who found this out is dead, and was related to the inventor of the microwave)

Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair. (Because we eat pennies)

Mark Twain didn't graduate from elementary school. (Neither did George Bush, what's your point?)

A donkey will sink in quicksand but a mule won't. (Who is experimenting with animals in this way?)

No piece of paper can be folded in half more than seven (7) times. (Go ahead and do it, the blog will be here when you get back)

Donkeys kill more people annually than plane crashes. (Unless you crash near quicksand, then you will be fine)

Sooner or Later

lyrics by Michael Tolcher:

"Pull the hair back from your eyes
Let the people see your pretty face
Try not to say anything weird
Save your questions without answers
'Til your old enough to know that things ain't as they appeared

Before you go out in the sun
Cover your skin and don't get burned
Beware the cancer, it might kill you when you're old

Be first in line, raise your hand
Remember everything you hear
And playing in the rain is worth catching cold

We only want what's best for you
That's why we tell you what to do
And nevermind if nothing makes sense

'Cause it all works out in the end
You're just like us without a friend
But you can build a privacy fence Yeah

Somethings you have to learn them all on your own
You can't rely on anybody else
Or the point of view of a source unknown
If it feels good and sounds nice
Then it's your choice don't doubt yourself
Don't even think twice

Pull the hair back from your eyes
Let the people see your pretty face
You know they like it when you smile Find a reason to smile

Try not to focus on yourself
Share that love with someone else
Don't let the bitters bring you down
Don't let anything bring you down"

This song has been running through my head the past week. I listen to it and think about the advice I have always gotten from adults in my life when I was much younger. And I remember thinking, 'what do they know' or 'why won't they just answer me,' and it bugged me. Sometimes adults would give me platitudes, such as 'you'll know when you are older.' Well, I am older, and guess what, I still don't know. I don't know why bad things still happen. I don't know why people focus on hurting others with words or weapons. I don't know what I am quick to anger the moment I get behind the wheel of a car.

Sometimes adults, especially my mom, would give me blanket advice, like 'never let anyone tell you that you can't.' Yep, hold my head high and stand strong in the face of objections, ridicule, pressure, arrogance, or anger. It's tough when someone calls you out and tells you they think you got it all wrong, or when they flat out disagree, or when they try to convince you of something other than what you believe. Kinda difficult to do, but I keep this quote close to my heart, 'character means standing up for something, even it means you stand alone.'

Then, when I was in college, I joined a fraternity. I was a youngster, and an older member in the house, when I was particularly stressed about soccer, school, and the house, sat me down and showed me a plaque that his dad gave him. It carried this simple message: IN THE RACE TO BE BETTER OR BEST, DO NOT MISS THE JOY OF BEING. Of all the advice I have gotten, most of it became hardwired into who I am (manners, compassion, measure twice cut once, and so on), this nugget is something I have to remind myself of. It is easy to get wrapped up in the pursuits of life, but what really matters is this wonderful gift of just being alive. And we didn't have to do anything to get it. It came free.

So, sooner or later, we will find the answer to everything. Sooner or later, we will think about one another. Sooner or later, we will figure out just who we are. And sooner or later, I will stop yelling when I am driving.

West Side Story

Last night at youth group, we were talking about social justice, changing the world, and being good to one another. Well, the kids discussed the problem of a rivalry that has been brewing between two high schools in the area - North and South. Jokingly, because the town where we all live is very suburban, I joked about West Side Story and the rivalry in that movie between the Jets and the Sharks. But, it has turned somewhat serious. One side is mad at the other side over what may have been a fight over a girl - you know, typical anger issues for teens. But is has escalated into a mob of one school vs. a mob of the other. Last week, these schools had some sort of altercation that resulted for certain with one child going to the emergency room due to a broken tooth.

We often think that suburbia is immune from "gang" violence. That "it couldn't happen here" mentality rises up. But, it does happen. Two years ago, a young man from the St. Charles area was killed in a fight between two rival schools. We enrobe ourselves with the false comfort that our children do not act like the children we read about in urban areas. We think we are immune to violence and evil.

My questions are simple (and I have the luxury of asking, since I don't have any kids yet and it's my blog):
1) Where are the parents? When the first incident occurred, did the parents just gloss over it?
2) Where are the school administrators? Are they even aware of this problem? Were they too engrossed in the school board elections?
3) Where was I? I have youth from both schools in youth group. I first learned of it last night. Was there something I missed? I don't think any of the youth from our youth group are involved, but jeez, were my blinders on too?

I hope that the youth who read this will think before they engage in violence, and they will choose restraint over reaction, and that they will come to the adults in their lives for guidance. I have visited a youth in the hospital because of illness; I certainly do not want to visit a youth in the hospital because of senseless violence.

Say What?

Once upon a time (when I was in law school), I worked as a DJ at a radio station. The most fun thing on the 3 am shift was to answer requests from people who could only quote (in an inaccurate way) lyrics to the song. My favorites misstated lyrics included: "Once more it's a naked love" (Pride - In the Name of Love by U2); "Another turnip, boy, a Ford stuck in the road" (Time of Your Life by Green Day); and "Bought an old house on the dance floor" (Old Apartment by Barenaked Ladies). There are tons more and if you want to have a good laugh, go check out http://kissthisguy.com. It is a website diarying misheard lyrics. Where did the title come from? Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix. The actual lyric is "Excuse me while I kiss the sky." It is often misheard, and oddly misheard, as "Excuse me, while I kiss this guy."

Language is a very funny thing. Conveys emotions. Memorializes history. Directs us to do or not do certain things. And when language is misheard or misinterpreted, it can lead to the following: war, theft, anger, death, mistrust, and isolation. I wish that only humor resulted from misheard language. I wish that George Bush wouldn't mishear Congress' call for an end date in Iraq. I wish that other nations wouldn't mishear our words to imply that we want to run the world. I wish that my words would not be misheard - when I say Guantanamo is wrong, I do not mean that we should not protect our country. What I mean is that no person should be deprived of life or liberty without due process of law (see our 5th Amendment to the US Constitution). Person means any person, not just a citizen of the US.

I wish that Scripture wasn't misheard to suggest that God condones violence in the name of religion. As my pastor has told me, and I desparately try to follow, the two greatest commandments are: Love God with all your heart, mind, soul, and body; and Love your neighbor as yourself. Sadly, even these commandments are misheard.

In the mean time, bum around the misheard lyrics website and have a laugh today.

Holy Spirit, Batman

When I was a tad younger, I loved to watch repeats of the Batman TV series, which, although I am old, was in reruns while I was watching. Aside from the overacting, odd villians, and cartoon "kapows," I remember Robin always saying "Holy [something], Batman." It was usually tied to something they encountered, such as if they were fighting at a fashion show and a crew of thugs came in, Robin would quip, "Holy Runway Models, Batman." Now, as I am rambling on, there is a point.

This week at confirmation, we have been teaching the Book of Acts, also referred to as the Acts of the Apostles. This is the foundation and story of the early church. It is hard to wrap my mind around how it must have been in those early days, how difficult to gather everyone together and teach. But, I am thinking of the Holy Spirit and how it plays the center role in the early church. Pentecost - universal translating the language, baptism by fire, yup that's the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit somehow gets forgotten in the shuffle. The triune God, three parts of one whole - where would God be without God, the Holy Spirit. Called the giver of life.

What does the Holy Spirit mean to us? I wish I could answer that in a truly meaningful way. Sadly, I just don't know about the Holy Spirit. We often overlook the role of the Holy Spirit in the Trinity. To be honest, as I said, I really only think of the Holy Spirit in the story of Pentecost, or when I recite the Apostles' Creed, or when the dove descends upon Jesus. I remember in art history that the Holy Spirit is portrayed as a dove. Hardly a true understanding of the Holy Spirit. What do I do then? I think I will utter the words, "Holy Spirit, Batman" and take this year to study the Holy Spirit and what it means to my faith. Jeepers, I will just have to figure out where to begin.

The Calling

Okay, it was Pack the Place Night tonight at youth group, and we had a boatload of kids. Why is this important? Well, I had to make sure the kids were well supervised, which means I didn't have my cell phone on me. So, at 5:37 pm (yes, that is what the voicemail said), Open Adoption & Family Services in Seattle called me to let me know that they have a screening call for me. This means that the potential baby could be: a) a girl, b) the child of birthmother who used drugs or alcohol, c) of a different ethnicity, or d) I don't know. Am I excited? Totally, this is the first step in a possible adoption - very cool feeling. However, part of me is still keeping my cards close to the vest - no need to build up my hopes for something that is nebulous right now. Things often happen when you least expect it. Some cliches never go out of style.

No matter how hard I try, I keep imagining the whole dad thing going on. Baseball games, parenting, babyproofing a house, and so on. What about a name? I know I had said "Benjamin Adam" if it's a boy. However, I like the name "Joshua Adam" for a boy, so that is what I am naming him. If it's a girl, I am going with "Bailey Abigail."

But for now, I play the waiting game. And, after the screening call, it could still turn out that this birthmother or birthparents pick another person or couple. Say a prayer for me.

What I Learned from Kids Today

So today at youth group, where I am the "fearless" leader, we did "Your Questions Answered" - a lesson borrowed from our former Youth Pastor (and valued mentor). The youth submitted questions for me to answer (as best as I can). Many were silly questions about my past and who I am, which is okay, because who wouldn't want to know that my favorite color is purple and that I am afraid of bats. But there were some deeper questions: why is patriotism good; why does God love us unconditionally; is emotional pain good; how can we know truly what God wants for us. These were some great questions, and we spurred some great discussions.

One question troubled the middle school and high school youth. According to a recent survey (see "The Group"), 85% of youth will cease attending church by the time they are in their junior year of college. I told that stat to the youth and they expressed their disbelief. I asked them whether they thought they would leave the church in college and how they would try to maintain their faith. It was an interesting discussion. Some of the youth even promised that they would still come to youth group while in college. It is a noble aspiration, but I fear that percentage number may have some validity. In thinking about it, my question might be better addressed to the adults - what will you do help the youth maintain their faith . . .

Interesting thought

And thus ends another year

Yep, once again, Mock Trial is over. We finished in the Elite Eight at State this year, but did not place in the top 3. Is that okay? I think it is. I think mock trial is about teaching students about our system of government and judiciary. It's about understanding what we do. It's about meeting other students. Somehow, that message got lost this year. Somehow, pride and vanity and envy took center stage. It was sad to see my senior students in tears, partly because it was their last year, but partly because they didn't advance further. However, the fact remains that, in my three years as coach with two other fine attorneys, the team has taken themselves to the Elite Eight each of those years. That's a measure of their dedication. To denigrate that by mourning the absence of "First Place" makes me feel that we taught nothing. Then again, I am the teacher coach, not the fun coach or the father coach, so it stands to reason that I did my job and filled my duties. I have sincere doubts that I will coach next year. It's too straining on me.

Trying to Catch the Deluge in a Paper Cup

Water - the chemical composition consisting of two atoms of hydrogen and one atom of oxygen.

Water - one of the building blocks of life.

Water - a cool refreshing drink.

Water - a destructive chemical that can corrode and dissolve, and in greater quantities, destroy everything in its path.

Water - a metaphor for faith, spirit, and belief.

Funny how something so simple like water can be so many things to so many people. Funny how the lack of it can be so many things to so many people. Something I have pondered of late to be quite honest, the water as faith metaphor. Can too much faith be dangerous? Does stagnant faith corrode and dissolve the soul? How do we look at our faith? A burden? A duty? A blessing? Not at all? Do we share that faith with others who thirst? Hmm . . . I may have to stick to blogging about swear words and bad drivers - the questions are easier to answer there.

Short Stories and other Idiocracies

Over the years, I have written short stories, mostly because of creative writing courses. They started out as random mutterings, but have evolved over the years into personal reflections on my life or on where I want my life or just funny stories (at least I like them). They sit in a computer folder call "Me Fail English? That's unpossible." Yep - a line from a Simpsons episode defines my literary talent (or lack thereof). So, without further ado, I post one of my stories here:

FAITH

“Are you their God? I need help,” I prayed, “I am graduating in four weeks and I am completely clueless. What am I supposed to do?” I really was clueless. What was I going to do with a biology degree? Grad school? It was a possibility.

Isn’t funny how when we are in deepest need or saddest times, we call on God to be there? When things are going well, we hardly say a word to Him. And when we feel cheated or hurt, we blame Him for what is going on around us. Not once does God ever argue back, punish us, or do anything other than love us all the more. I never gave much thought to that, but when I look at it, who else would take the shit with throw at Him and still be there for us.

“What can I do for you Nick,” asked a voice.

“Who’s there,” I responded.

The voice bellowed, “You ask if I am here and say that you need help. Then you ask who is talking back to you.”

“God,” I inquired, not really sure that I wanted an answer.

“Last time I checked, but then again I don’t really need a mirror,” laughed God.

“Holy shit, I’m fucking losing it,” I thought.

“No, you are doing just fine. Your language is a little rough, but I think I can handle it,” God replied.

Ordinarily, I never believed those kooks on the street or even preachers who claim that God has spoken to them. Now, here I am, conversing with someone who says He is God. I have lost my mind. Or, I am way too drunk for my brain to function normally. What’s worse is that I am just hearing a voice all around me and can’t see anyone.

“Is this better,” asked God, as he took form, looking surprisingly a lot like me and the other students at Bryant College.

“Who the hell are you,” I shouted.

“Okay, let’s clear all this up right now. I’m God, pleased to meet you,” He said as He stuck out His hand.

My mind went blank and I froze. A few seconds later, I shook His hand. He was real. I mean, when I shook His hand, there was flesh and bone there. Was I really meeting God? Had I had a mental break? Why was God here?

“Nick, I will answer your questions in due time,” God said, “But first, we have a chemistry class to go to.” He winked at me.

“You’re going to go to my class,” I inquired.

“Why not,” God replied, “I haven’t visited Earth in quite a while, not since the French Revolution.”

“You’ve been here before,” I asked?

“You really need to read that book about me from time to time,” He chuckled.

When are you face to face with God, inevitably, you will look and sound like an idiot. I think I just won first prize in the “Sorry God, I’m An Idiot Contest.” Despite my confusion, I grabbed my bag and God followed me to class. We got to the chem lab and sat down. My friends noticed my new friend in tow and came over to talk to us.

“Nicky, who’s your friend,” asked Shelly, my friend since freshman year who caused my heart to melt whenever she spoke.

I was struggling to think of an explanation, but I was interrupted.

“I’m Adam, Nick’s relative from out of town,” said God.

“Cool man. Where’re ya from,” asked Kyle, my neighbor from down the hall.

“Everywhere really,” God smiled.

“Military brat,” asked Paul, one of my roommates.

“Adam, this is Shelly, Kyle, Rob, and Paul,” I interrupted, introducing everyone to God (as if he didn’t already know).

“Pleased to meet you,” said God.

Okay, God is in my chemistry class and He has just met my friends. He probably already knew their names and everything about them, but He went on as if He was just a regular person. I prayed for guidance about my life after graduation and the Almighty Himself makes a house call. There are billions of people in the world and God just stopped by to say hello and answer my prayers directly? I don’t think so. I saw “Oh God” and “Dogma;” something’s up. After class, all of us, including God, went to the Union for lunch.

“I love grilled cheeseburgers. I don’t usually get to eat them because I am traveling so much,” explained God.

“Where do you travel? I mean, what do you do,” asked Rob.

“I do a lot of missionary work, spreading the word of God, meeting people,” God said.

“You’re not one of the religious nuts like Bible Dan the Preacher Man, are you,” asked Shelly.

“The guy who goes around college campuses and tells the students that they are going to burn in hell? No, I’m just interested in talking about faith and learning about people’s views on God,” He responded.

“You just like hearing what people think,” Shelly asked.

“Sure, how can you learn if you don’t ask,” He said.

“It’s all a load of shit. Religion and God, who needs that stuff,” sneered Paul.

I was afraid. Was God going to smite my friend Paul while he scarfed down a cheeseburger? This couldn’t be good. I imagined how I would explain to Paul’s dad why his son suddenly was stricken with leprosy. But it didn’t happen. God laughed. He let Paul just spout about religion. He listened as Shelly talked about Catholic school. He told jokes. He talked about religion and Christianity and holy wars. We were enraptured with His stories. I realized that Paul was not going to be destroyed, that God was pleased with him, with all of us. We spent hours in the Union talking and laughing and sharing stories and viewpoints. My friends thought “Adam” was cool. I walked with God back to my apartment.

“Shelly’s a very cute girl, isn’t she,” God asked.

“Um, ya, she is,” I replied, totally confused.

“Did you ever take her out,” He inquired. “If you haven’t, you should do that,” He added.

“Why didn’t you strike Paul down for what he said,” I asked, wanting desperately to change the subject.

“Nick, of all the gifts I have given to everyone, I think my best gift was free will. The choice to do something or not. The freedom to do whatever. To believe in me or to not believe in me,” He responded.

“But don’t you love us,” I asked. I was confused but yet I found myself accepting more and more that this was God.

“Of course I do. That’s what I do. I love each and every one of you,” he said.

“But what about evil people? What about other religions? Why, if you love us, do bad things happened in the world,” I spouted.

“Nick, there is no simple answer to that. I certainly can’t reveal my entire plan to you. You are not ready for that. I can say this to you – I love everyone, regardless of whether they return that love, and not every bad thing that happens is a bad thing, just as not every good thing that happens is a good thing,” He replied.

I am more confused than ever. God and I talk more and more. He asks me about Shelly, almost prodding me to do something. He asks me about my biology major and shares with me some things I would never learn in any biology class. I am also awestruck by how much He listens while I talk and talk. He never shuts down a question. I am asking things at a million miles a minute. He is not encrypting His messages, but sometimes, He could not answer my questions in a way I could understand.

“You’re wondering why I am here, aren’t you,” asked God.

“Well, the thought did cross my mind,” I replied.

“I have a mission for you,” He stated simply.

“This isn’t like the movie ‘Oh God’, where I have to go out and tell the world that you exist and that humanity can make it work,” I replied.

“That was an interesting movie. I told John Denver he should take the part,” God said, “But no, I have something different for you.”

“Do I get special powers, like parting the ocean or turning a stick into a snake,” I asked excitedly.

“You already have all the powers you need,” He stated in a paternal manner.

“What do I have to do,” I asked.

“You do not have to do anything. You have a choice, remember,” He said, “but if you choose to, I would like you to consider becoming a pastor.”

“A pastor,” I grimaced. He wants me to become a religious guy.

“You prayed to me for guidance. I am presenting you with an option,” He stated.

“How could I be a pastor? I don’t know anything,” I said.

“You know all that you need to know,” He replied.

Then I asked, “Why me?”

To which God smiled and said, “Why not?”

God and I went back and forth for hours. Kyle and Rob came over and joined in the conversation. Of course, they only knew him as Adam, not God. We all talked for hours.

“I’m hungry. Let’s order pizza,” suggested God.

“Pepperoni, no mushrooms,” Kyle shouted from the bathroom.

I found it weird that God ate. He’s God. Why would He need food? Let me tell you this, God has a big appetite. He ate a whole pizza by Himself. He even drank beer. This was a far cry from the God I read about in the Bible and certainly not what we were taught about in church. It was getting late when we finally wrapped things up.

“Nick, you’re able to take me to the airport tomorrow morning, right,” asked God?
“Yeah sure,” I said, stunned by the request.

“Hey man, when are you coming back,” asked Rob.

“I never know where I may end up, but I will try to come back and visit Nick again soon,” God replied.

Everyone left, and God and I sat at the kitchen table.

“Think about what I asked you to consider,” said God as He faded from view.

“Always the showman,” said a female voice.

“Who are you,” I yelled.

A beautiful, blonde girl appeared before my eyes. “I’m Evelyn, but you can call me Eve,” she said in a sultry voice.

“And who are you,” I asked.

She replied, “I am many things and I go by many names.”

“Satan,” I stated matter-of-factly.

“Not my favorite,” she said coldly.

“Why are you here,” I demanded.

“Don’t you listen to the big guy. Free will,” she said, “I certainly don’t want you to make a decision without all the information.”

She came up behind me and began to massage my shoulders. She whispered in my ear and decided that we needed to go out to a bar.

“So, this is my temptation,” I inquired.

“Such a simple creature,” she replied, “This is your opportunity. Why would you ever want to become a pastor? There is so much more for you out there.”

“Is this where I sell you my soul,” I asked.

“I haven’t worked that way in a long time,” she said, “I am going tell you a few things and answer a few questions.”

“Why me,” I asked

“Humans. You all think that there is some grand purpose as to why you are in any given situation,” she explained, “But simply put, I told God that He could never answer a prayer directly and have things work out in His favor.”

“You made a bet with God,” I said.

She smiled, “Well, not really, but if you want to look at it that way, it suits me just fine.”

“You talk with God,” I asked. I had so many questions about how God and Satan interacted.

Again, she smiled, “The whole balance of good and evil argument might sum it up, but here’s the thing. I was there with God from the beginning. Before the earth, before man. The one angel above all others. He loved me best, until He began creating things and creatures and mankind. I was His special creation, along with all the angels and hosts of Heaven. For some reason, He had a change of heart. Man became His all-consuming passion. You all could do nothing special, but you are His favorites. I was angry and made it known. So, He tossed me out of Heaven. And yes, that did bother me. But, you see, I have a greater chance to interact with God’s special creatures. I am down here with you, showing you all the things that you have questions about.”

I am sitting in a bar with Satan talking about the nature of God and humanity. She is so attractive that my thoughts begin to wander. I want her so bad that I can feel it, almost taste it. She knows this too and touches me. Drinks keep flowing. We go back to my apartment. My heart tells me to hold fast and not succumb to Satan’s tempting beauty. My groin, however, seems to be in charge right now. Back at the apartment, she and I eat cold pizza and drink a few beers. She leans closer to me and kisses me with the deepest passion. A little too late, I notice that she has unbuckled my pants and has brought me to full attention.

“Stop,” I shouted.

“What’s the matter? We’re just having a little fun,” she said.

I am flustered and confused. “I can’t do this.”

“Damn,” she muttered. “Well, I feel so unsatisfied. Tell me Nick, whatever are we going to do now? Drown ourselves with South Park reruns,” she continued.

“You came here for a reason. Tell me what you’re doing here,” I demanded!

“Okay, let’s go,” she commanded.

We go out for a walk and discuss things for quite some time. She tells me that I have a promising career as a biochemist.

“You could discover the cure for cancer, or develop new agricultural chemicals to increase worldwide food production,” she said, “You would be rich beyond your wildest dreams; everyone would praise you.”

“At what cost,” I asked.

“Do you really want to spend your life devoted to God,” she responded, “Shepherding people who could care less about being in church, who whine and complain about every aspect of their miserable lives.”

“Better to reign on earth than to serve in Heaven, huh,” I retorted.

“How quaint. Yet another theology lesson from a small-brained fool,” she said angrily.

“Where’s the temptation? Insulting me certainly doesn’t help your case,” I said.

“You sound like He did in the desert,” she sneered.

With that, she showed me my life ten years from now. I am at a press conference announcing my research results with the cancer cure. Media hounds are everywhere. I am meeting with world leaders, going on book tours, and all sorts of glory and praise follow me everywhere. I have a beautiful wife and three children. My home is huge. All of this is great. I have everything I would ever want and I am helping the world.

“What do you think,” she asked.

“Sounds tempting, but there is always a catch,” I responded.

She nodded, “I do you a favor, you do me a favor.” Her tongue grazed my ear as she spoke

“What favor,” I asked, moving her hands from my lap.

“You need only reject God. And why shouldn’t you? He could stop disease, war, famine with the wave of His hand. Yet He sits there. He wants blind faith and gives you no answers. He leaves things to chance. Nothing is given to you. You have to earn it all. He wants you to love Him out of fear,” she explained, “I do none of those things. You want it? I will give you. You have a problem? I’ll fix it. I already love you and expect nothing in return. ‘Do what you want.’ That’s my motto.”

“Maybe the reward of Heaven isn’t revealed to us because then we might lose free will,” I stated.

“Or maybe Heaven ain’t that great,” she said as she faded from view.

I walked back to the apartment. Kyle is over and he asks me about the hot blonde that I was talking to at the bar. I say that she is just some girl that I met. He is disappointed that I don’t give more details. I go into my room and Adam’s form comes into view.

“Interesting night,” said God.

“Yeah, I guess,” I replied. I didn’t really want to talk to anyone, even God.

“The decision is not going to be easy. You have an interesting offer from Lucifer. You would be doing something wonderful for the world,” he explained.

“You’re okay with that,” I yelled.

“It’s not my choice Nick,” he stated, “You make your own destiny. I have given you all the information you need to make your decision.”

“Why are you and Satan making a bet for my soul,” I asked.

“Nick, it’s not a bet, more of a challenge. I don’t gamble for souls,” he said.

“Sure sounds like a bet to me,” I said.

“Things are not always what they appear to be,” he replied with a grin.

“You still talk with Satan,” I asked.

He sighed and said, “Lucifer was my special angel. An angel above all others. But like you, I gave angels free will. The more Lucifer learned and experienced, the less he chose to follow me. But with all things, good and evil are opposite sides of the same coin. I can’t have that, as you well know. I sent him on his way and he went on to do his thing” “I do enjoy talking to him, though” he continued, “He’s very witty, and often quite comical. Sometimes, I even learn a thing or two from him.”

The theological impact of this rang through my head. I asked for this situation with a simple prayer. I would never know what was in God’s mind, but I did know that my decision carried some importance if it brought the powers that be into the picture. I had so many questions about what to do and when I would see God again. I struggled to speak.

"God," I sputtered.

"Yes," he replied.

"Why are we here," I managed to ask over the lump in my throat.

The look on God's face was stoic. I thought maybe I had stepped over the line and offended him. Then he smiled and said, "Because I love you and you give me joy."

I had no response, but those words filled my heart more than anything ever said to me.

“Good bye Nick. Good luck with your decision.” God smiled and disappeared.

In the days that followed, I thought a lot about my meetings with God and Satan. I asked my friends a million questions. People thought I had gone around the bend.

“You thinking about what,” Rob asked, almost laughing as he said it.

“I was thinking about studying theology at Trinity College in the fall,” I said.

“We’re graduating in two weeks. We’re done,” Paul added.

“Why theology,” asked Kyle, “you’re a biology major. I thought you were going there for your Masters in biochemistry.”

“I don’t know. I was talking with Adam and I really thought about it after all we had been talking about,” I responded.

“Adam was cool and all, but why would you want to spout that religious muck to a bunch of foolish, guilt-ridden people for the rest of your life,” Paul retorted.

This went on for a while. Paul and Rob left to grab some food for dinner. I thought a lot about what they said. What did I know about preaching to people? I was no one special, just a kid from California who thought that biology was a great course of study. I wasn’t super-religious, and I didn’t always go to church. God comes to me and asks me to lead people in faith. I had to be out of my mind.

“Hi sweetie,” said a female voice from behind.

“You need something Eve or are you here to offer me something,” I questioned.

“Would it make your decision easier,” she replied, “I can always sweeten the deal. More money? Three girlfriends instead of a wife?”

“Why me? What makes me so special,” I demanded.

“Why you? Why you? Get over it Nick. He picked you for some reason only He knows and I have to make sure you make the informed choice,” she said.

“Somehow, I doubt your motives,” I countered.

Eve slinked over to me. She was dressed like Marilyn Monroe. She whispered into my ear, “And somehow, I doubt yours.” She left in a puff of smoke.

“Always the showman,” I thought to myself.

I couldn’t begin to grasp everything that I had seen and heard, but I knew I had a serious choice to make. The one thing I thought a lot about was what would happen if I chose my own path, one different from what God and I talked about and different from the one Satan offered. I was still thinking about it all as I got my diploma from Bryant. I had no clue what my own choice would be, until I realized that I always had my own choice. Three months later, I had packed my car up for my trip to Trinity College in Iowa. The road was long and somewhere near Nebraska, it began to rain.

The Cat's in the cradle

So, in the holiday rush, and the busy days following, I have forgotten to share some things. And, it is about time for another update on the KID. I am officially in the adoption pool, which means I sit with other potential parents in a book. Birthfamilies get to read the book and say, "I like this one or I like that one." Then if that happens, they look at your bio book (which I must say for me, looks rather cool - I think I would make a great read). If they still like you, then, you and the birthfamily meet - to close the deal (although, remember, until you have the KID in your hands, it's not yours yet). Then you bond with the birthfamily until you get the call, "She's in labor." Like any other parent, you will rush out of the house forgetting something important, get pulled over on the way to the airport, and sit between a drunk priest and new age minister (don't laugh, this happened on the way to England when I gave up my real seat to make sure that newlyweds could sit together).

So until that time, I think about the KID and what it will be like. But I can't call the kid KID for his or her whole life. I have settled on "Benjamin Adam" as a boy's name. However, I just can't come up with a good girl's name. I love "Grace" and I love "Helena" (no influence from My Chemical Romance, I swear). I also like "Abigail" or "Jude." However, here are the names other people have suggested: Megan (blech), Jennifer (because no one else uses THAT name), Penelope (thereby ensuring that she will be a librarian or an accountant), and Carolyn (NO!). Obviously, I am hoping for a boy. Little Ben or "Girl to be named" will probably hope for a different dad.

Baby Showers!!!! Okay, these sound like a "woman" thing to have. Your girl friends get together, buy you things for the baby (sometimes, expensive things), you have cake, coffee, and an alcoholic beverage or too, and you laugh. Where is the girly part? I want free baby stuff (kids are darned expensive). I can laugh. I like alcoholic beverages. So, my friends are gung ho on this idea (yes, even the guy friends). Baby Illini gear is fine with me (www.folletts.com). Also, some of my colleagues at the courthouse want to have a shower (lawyers have disposable income). The courthouse staff wants in - since the baby's gender is unknown, pick clothes in blue or yellow (blue is a great color for either gender, so stop with the hangups). I think people should throw a shower for people for all kinds of occasions. Who doesn't like free stuff?

This weekend was baby weekend for me. My college roommate TJ (although he is going by "Tim" now) and his husband Brian brought their little tyke (my godson Aaron) into town, not to see me specifically, but I got to see them. We had a great time and I thought, I can do this parent thing, even though the good comes with some bad. Aaron likes to grab at anything at toddler level, which in my house includes the fireplace poker, etc. Father lesson #1. Aaron likes to throw things in the toilet and flush (I needed a new toothbrush anyways). Father lesson #2. Aaron will fall asleep to the Veggie Tales. Father lesson #3. On Sunday, after that great game where the Bears marched to the Super Bowl, my friends Kelly and Chris brought their daughter Izzy (my unofficial goddaughter) to see me. She is two months old and cries like a banshee. Father lesson #4. But get this, they dropped her into my arms - she fell asleep, mom fell asleep, and dad watched mindless tv. I have a gift.

So anyways, I am rambling on about the baby thing, so leave a comment and let me know what you want my next blog to be about . . .

Jars of Clay

So, I am teaching a youth group lesson about Clay Pots - the fragile nature of clay, despite it's early importance to God's people. I hope I don't screw up - so read . . . . . .
---------------
WE HAVE THESE TREASURES IN JARS OF CLAY
Clay is plastic when wet, which means it can be easily shaped. When dry, it becomes firm and when subject to high temperature, known as firing, permanent physical and chemical reactions occur which, amongst other changes, causes the clay to be converted into a ceramic material. A fireplace or oven specifically designed for firing clay is called a kiln. These properties make clay an ideal substance for making durable pottery items, both practical and decorative, with different types of clay and firing conditions often used in earthenware, stoneware and porcelain. Early humans discovered the useful properties of clay in prehistoric times, and one of the earliest artifacts ever uncovered is a drinking vessel made of sun-dried clay. Depending on the content of the soil, clay can appear in various colors, from a dull gray to a deep orange-red.
Clays sintered in fire were the first ceramic, and remain one of the cheapest to produce and most widely used materials even in the present day. Bricks, cooking pots, art objects, dishware and even musical instruments such as the ocarinacan all be shaped from clay before being fired. Clay is also used in many industrial processes, such as paper making, cement production, pottery, and chemical filtering.

The development of pottery was a milestone in human history. These durable and watertight containers enabled people to boil and steam food which allowed them to exploit new sources of food such as shellfish, acorns, and leafy vegetables. Soft boiled foods could be eaten by toothless children and the elderly, which permitted caregivers to spend more time producing food. In Japan, for instance, the introduction of pottery was followed by a population explosion. In the archaeology of the Eastern Woodlands of North America the introduction of pottery is referred to as the container revolution.

Since pottery is a durable, man-made artifact which was utilized by various cultures around the world, it has proven to be a boon for archaeologists. Broken pottery in archaeological sites, called sherds or shards, help identify the resident culture and date the stratum by the formation, style and decoration. The relative chronologies based on pottery are essential for dating the remains of non-literate cultures and help in the dating of some historic cultures as well. Trace element analysis, mostly by neutron activation, allows the sources of clay to be accurately identified.

The invention of the potter's wheel in Mesopotamia sometime between 6,000 and 2,400 BCE revolutionized pottery production. Specialized potters were then able to meet the burgeoning needs of the world's first cities.

While artistic value of Classical Greek and Roman pottery largely consisted of the surface decoration, the pottery itself was an important art form in China, where efficient kilns allowed high temperature ware to be fired with wood, long before the use of coal.

The LORD God formed man out of the clay of the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life, and so man became a living being – Genesis 2:7 (Adamah – Hebrew for “earth”).

And the priest shall take holy water in an earthen vessel; and of the dust that is on the floor of the tabernacle the priest shall take, and put it into the water. Numbers 5:17.

And every earthen vessel, whereinto any of them falleth, whatsoever is in it shall be unclean; and ye shall break it. Leviticus 11:33.

And the vessel of earth, that he toucheth which hath the issue, shall be broken: and every vessel of wood shall be rinsed in water. Leviticus 15:12.

Behold, I am toward God even as you are. I am also formed out of the clay. Job 33:6.

Whereas you saw the feet and toes, part of potters' clay, and part of iron, it shall be a divided kingdom; but there shall be in it of the strength of the iron, because you saw the iron mixed with miry clay. Daniel 2:41.

When the vessel that he made of the clay was marred in the hand of the potter, he made it again another vessel, as seemed good to the potter to make it. "Can I not, O house of Israel, deal with you as this potter [does]?" declares the LORD. "Behold, like the clay in the potter's hand, so are you in My hand, O house of Israel. Jeremiah 18:4-6.

This is what the Lord Almighty, God of Israel, says: Take these documents, both sealed and unsealed copies of the deed of purchase, and put them in a clay jar so they will last a long time. Jeremiah 32:14.

The precious sons of Zion, comparable to fine gold, how are they esteemed as earthen pitchers, the work of the hands of the potter! Lamentations 4:2.

You turn things upside down! Is the potter no better than his clay? Can something that has been made say about its maker, "He didn't make me"? Can a piece of pottery say about the potter, "He doesn't understand"? Isaiah 29:16.

How horrible it will be for the one who quarrels with his maker. He is pottery among other earthenware pots. Does the clay ask the one who shapes it, "What are you making?" Does your work say to you, "There are no handles"? Isaiah 45:9.

But now, LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, and you are our potter. We are the work of your hands. Isaiah 64:8

He answered, "The man who is called Jesus made clay, and anointed my eyes, and said to me, 'Go to Siloam and wash'; so I went away and washed, and I received sight."Now it was a Sabbath on the day when Jesus made the clay and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also were asking him again how he received his sight. And he said to them, "He applied clay to my eyes, and I washed, and I see." John 9:11, 14-15.

Who do you think you are to talk back to God like that? Can an object that was made say to its maker, "Why did you make me like this?" A potter has the right to do whatever he wants with his clay. He can make something for a special occasion or something for everyday use from the same lump of clay. What if God, although willing to demonstrate His wrath and to make His power known, endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction? Romans 9:20-22.

In a large house there are not only objects made of gold and silver, but also those made of wood and clay. Some objects are honored when they are used; others aren't. If a man therefore will cleanse himself from these, he will be a vessel to honor, sanctified and meet for the master's use, and prepared to every good work. Flee also youthful lusts: but follow righteousness, faith, charity, peace, with them that call on the Lord out of a pure heart. 2 Timothy 2:20-22.

For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined into our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are pressed on every side, yet not crushed; perplexed, yet not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed. 2 Corinthians 4:6-9.

He will rule them with a rod of iron, shattering them like clay pots; as I also have received of my Father Revelation 2:27.

Munsters

Yvonne De Carlo died today. She was Lily Munster on "The Munsters." She was also in "The Ten Commandments," but sadly, I will always remember her as the sweet, but creepy mother on one of my favorite TV shows. They don't make shows like that anymore. That's too bad.

Monster-proof Blankets - January 3, 2007

Last night, I was listening to a comedian on Comedy Central. Quite funny, quite large. But he started talking about how he was explaining the well-known theory to his nephew that monsters of any kind cannot hurt, attack, maul, or otherwise drag you to the depths of hell, so long as the only thing sticking out from under your blanket is your head. He was telling a joke, but it spurred me to thinking . . . this is a rather amusing lie that adults perpetuate through time to their children. Just like the Santa Claus story, we pass this fib on from generation to generation. It makes us feel good. It gives that feeling of love, safety, and security to our defenseless and imaginative young ones. Hell, to this day, I still get an occasional freak out when I wake to find my leg dangling over the edge of the bed, not shrouded in any blanket. Thankfully, no slimy, fanged, odd-shaped monstrosity has stolen me away.

But what is really on my mind though is how we could use that blanket today. Hey, when you grow old, the monsters come in new forms . . . alcoholism, racism, faithlessness, rage, ignorance, xenophobia, and even republicanism (and not "republicanism" as in the state of representative democracy, but rather "republicanism" as in a lack of independent political thought). Nothing shields us from it. It gets to us when we are awake, and it gets to us when we are asleep. I wish I could be wrapped in cloth that is stuffed with down feathers, a cloth so strong that I would never have to fear the evils. I want someone else to tuck me in sometimes and say that the monsters can't get through the blanket if you keep everything underneath it.

Wouldn't that be nice? Sure would, but that is not the way of things. Nor would I honestly want to be sheltered from all that is bad. Why? How would know what is good? Something to ponder - fibs we tell our kids . . . monster-proof blankets, Santa/Easter Bunny/Tooth Fairy, stepping on cracks . . . Aesop would be proud. Enough rambling for now.

Gifts, Sparrows, & Clay - December 24, 2006

Christmas is here. But what does that really mean. Santa? Gifts? Church? Joy and peace? I suppose if you boiled it all down to the purest points - yes. We give gifts to let others know that they are loved. We shop and spend more money than we probably should. We even take a moment or two to think of those less fortunate and buy gifts or work in soup kitchens. We go to church and sing carols and listen to the Christmas story (Luke's version is my favorite). Then, Christmas ends for another year.

For 24 hours, we forget all that ails us. We forget those who have wronged us. We forget the wrongs we have done. We put childish things aside. We listen quietly on a cold night for cry of the newborn - the one sent to save us all. Then we stop. We go back to work. We lie. We cheat. We lash out in anger. We remember the wrongs. We commit new ones, ourselves. We leave the joy behind as we succumb to road rage.

God sees the evils we have done. He suffers the slings and arrows that we hurl. And yet, he longed to be close to us. I am reminded of a story. There is a barn in winter and there are sparrows quivering in the cold and the darkness. A farmer comes in and sees these sparrows and wants to bring them comfort and warmth. He approaches. The sparrows flee in fear into the darkness. The farmer only wants to bring the sparrows into his house where it is light and warm. But the sparrows fear him. The farmer wishes he could become a bird so he could tell those sparrows that he loves them and wants them to be safe. And that is what God did - we were in fear and darkness. So, he came down as one of us to take away sin and conquer darkness.

We lose sight of that message. Christmas is one of two major holidays where church attendance is higher. People may see Christmas as an obligation, a burden. Is it a burden to be given such a gift? I say not. God sees all our failings. He is angered. He knows our wrongs against Him and against others. And yet, one night, He put all of that aside. He sent His Son to us as our gift. God says to us that all you have done, all you do, and all you will do is forgiven - just believe and accept My Son as your gift. That is a pretty awesome gift. And He had no obligation to do so. He did it willingly.

So, I guess this is where I take a calling from Him. I will take that gift He gave and celebrate it. Jubliee, if you will. Can I promise not swear? Sure. Will I live up to it? I hope so. Can I promise to share and care? Sure, if the Doodlebops have told me I should, I can remember that promise too. Can I look at this wonderful gift and share it with others? You better believe that this is my new goal.

We are but earthen vessels, fragile and weak. And inside, God put his greatest treasure. I gotta remember that. The Potter has molded his clay, and the clay shall not tell the maker how it should be made. That's the end of the sermon - here's a thought though: Look to East for the sign. Even in today's busy world, the star is still shining to lead us home.

As the Days Go By - December 7, 2006

Here is one of those random blogs where I ramble on . . .

I made it into the adoption pool. I got my license from DCFS (because I am adopting a kid from another state). What does the pool mean? I submitted a "Dear Birthparent" letter, where I have one page to talk about myself and try to convince potential birthparents to pick my file to look at. Yikes! I have a hard enough time not using run-on sentences when I speak. Then if they pick my file, they can review it and determine if I am the one they want to raise their child. Could be a day, could be a year from now when I get a kid. But I have that license, which says my home is fit for a child and that I meet all parenting standards set by DCFS. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone had to do that before bringing a child into the world? Maybe child abuse would disappear . . . but, then again, you have to have a license to drive a car (and people are still lousy drivers).

I have had three trials in a row this week. One was over money and assets and finessing settlement language. Boring and mind-numbing and I wanted to strangle everyone. Yesterday was a custody trial. My client was seeking sole custody. I actually felt bad cross-examining the other party (I made her cry on the witness stand), but ultimately, my job is argue for the best interests of the child, not the party losing custody. Today's trial - whether a house is worth $200K or $250K. Waste of time and money, but in family law, people lose all sense of rationality. It's my job as a lawyer to keep that sense of rationality going.

This past Saturday, I received unexpected news. Our Associate Pastor called me, while he was away at a youth ministry convention, to let me know personally that he had accepted a Senior Pastor position at another church. Ouch! This Pastor is the reason I joined the church I am at (well, the community of this church is why, but he is the conduit). I was also confused - he apparently wanted to call a select group of people and confidentially tell them first. Why me? I guess even in my short time there, I managed to make an impact. Now, I could be selfish and say that I am angry and sad at him for leaving (and I am - because that is a normal reaction). However, I am glad. I am glad that he was called to service for another church (God is always speaking). I am glad that he found a role that suits his talents. I am glad that others will get to experience the Cheese Song. I am glad that God led me to this church to meet this man. I wish only the best for him, and I fully expect that as he reads this, he knows that we will be singing more songs again soon (did I mention that I have a song about bologna?) I leave this topic with this quote: "Greatness is not measured by how many people celebrate your presence, but by how many people mourn your absence."

Music. I couldn't imagine a day in my life without music. In fact, I would probably make music out of anything if I didn't have a radio around and my voice was hoarse. I have been singing more and more. Cantatas, karaoke, community chorales, you name it. I bought a new instrument, a djembe, which I have been banging on after work. Great for just having fun and making noise. I even, with trepidation, have restarted my music theory lessons. No, I don't plan on becoming a composer, but I am so weird, I even love to learn about music. Music is probably one of the most difficult languages ever written by man, and the most powerful. When aliens come to visit (watch Close Encounters of the Third Kind), music will likely be the best way to communicate, trust me.

So that is my mad ramblings for this week. Oh wait, we had a snowstorm last Thursday. And all those morons with licenses to drive proved once again that having a license to do something doesn't make you good at it.

Yabba Dabba-loo-yah - December 20, 2006

Cartoons. I have written about them before. Why? Simple. In cartoons, anything is possible. A coyote can order malfunctioning weapons of false destruction that only work against the buyer. Rabbits can talk. A groups teens (an effeminate pseudo-male, a stuck-up hot chick, a lesbian, and a pothead) and a talking dog can drive in a psychadelic van, not attend school, and solve the unsolved mysteries that have plagued local police departments around the country. A hyper-intelligent dog and his boy Sherman can travel through time to teach history to kids. Yep, cartoons can do it all.

I have written before about cartoons. But today, it is special for me. Joe Barbera (of Hanna-Barbera) passed away today of natural causes (Bill Hanna died in 2001). This team is responsible for "Tom & Jerry," "The Flintstones," "The Jetsons," "Huckleberry Hound," "Scooby Doo," "The Laff-a-Lympics," Yogi Bear," "The Smurfs," "Quick Draw McGraw," "Johnny Quest," "Snorks," "Hong Kong Phooey," "Top Cat," "Dexter's Lab," "Captain Planet," and many, many more. Yep, I gosh darned loved Hanna-Barbera. Seriously, you have at least one favorite cartoon that came from Hanna-Barbera.



HB Cartoons are everywhere. Cartoon Network's Adult Swim is full with HB tributes - Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law!!!!! Find a person on the street who can't sing the theme to the Smurfs. Find me a child of the 80s who can't tell you who Captain Planet is and how he is "by your powers combined."

Now, I also just learned that on November 20, 2006, Chris Hayward passed away. You are scratching your head??? Does Dudley Do-Right ring a bell? No. Okay, he was the writer for Rocky & Bullwinkle . . . and the creator of the Munsters. And, of course - he was partly involved with Mr. Peabody and his boy Sherman. I don't usually go a month without saying "Quiet, you." to someone.





Most of the cartoons by these two men found their way into a Chris Rice song called, "What If Cartoons Got Saved?" The song asks how cartoons would respond if they were saved by Jesus. No matter what, we do give human-ness to cartoons. They are often our first experiences when the TV is turned on. It's not surprising how important cartoons are to people. They teach us to sing. They teach us to count. They teach us to share. They teach us that no one is subject to the laws of gravity unless they realize they are subject to the laws of gravity. They teach us that kindness usually wins out. And, they make us laugh our asses off.

And of course, there are still a list of cartoon things I want to know:

*When Megatron (Transformers) transforms into the hand-held gun that fits into the hands of Starscream, a robot of equal size, where does all of Megatron's mass go?

*Scooby Doo can talk (and apparently think). Why doesn't he think, "Why I am driving around with these weirdos? Where is Pam Anderson?"




*Does Charlie Brown ever think, "Screw this. I am kicking Lucy in the damn head!"?

*Why didn't Yosemite Sam, Elmer Fudd, Daffy Duck, and Wylie Coyote team up? I am tired of Bugs and the Road Runner winning the day?

*Where are Donald Duck's pants?

*Where is Mickey Mouse's shirt? Seriously, between Mickey and Donald, they had one outfit. And why does Goofy get pants, a shirt, and a vest?

*Is knowing really half the battle? Or is getting people to apply what they know half the battle? Who knows? I think the glass is still half-empty.

*How did capturing a bumble bee in a clamshell allow Fred Flintstone to shave?

I guess I will never know, but thankfully, Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends and Fairly Oddparents will teach me new things about how to live a good life. Oh, and Jane - Stop this crazy thing!!!!!!

As the Days Go By - December 7, 2006

Here is one of those random blogs where I ramble on . . .

I made it into the adoption pool. I got my license from DCFS (because I am adopting a kid from another state). What does the pool mean? I submitted a "Dear Birthparent" letter, where I have one page to talk about myself and try to convince potential birthparents to pick my file to look at. Yikes! I have a hard enough time not using run-on sentences when I speak. Then if they pick my file, they can review it and determine if I am the one they want to raise their child. Could be a day, could be a year from now when I get a kid. But I have that license, which says my home is fit for a child and that I meet all parenting standards set by DCFS. Wouldn't it be nice if everyone had to do that before bringing a child into the world? Maybe child abuse would disappear . . . but, then again, you have to have a license to drive a car (and people are still lousy drivers).

I have had three trials in a row this week. One was over money and assets and finessing settlement language. Boring and mind-numbing and I wanted to strangle everyone. Yesterday was a custody trial. My client was seeking sole custody. I actually felt bad cross-examining the other party (I made her cry on the witness stand), but ultimately, my job is argue for the best interests of the child, not the party losing custody. Today's trial - whether a house is worth $200K or $250K. Waste of time and money, but in family law, people lose all sense of rationality. It's my job as a lawyer to keep that sense of rationality going.

This past Saturday, I received unexpected news. Our Associate Pastor called me, while he was away at a youth ministry convention, to let me know personally that he had accepted a Senior Pastor position at another church. Ouch! This Pastor is the reason I joined the church I am at (well, the community of this church is why, but he is the conduit). I was also confused - he apparently wanted to call a select group of people and confidentially tell them first. Why me? I guess even in my short time there, I managed to make an impact. Now, I could be selfish and say that I am angry and sad at him for leaving (and I am - because that is a normal reaction). However, I am glad. I am glad that he was called to service for another church (God is always speaking). I am glad that he found a role that suits his talents. I am glad that others will get to experience the Cheese Song. I am glad that God led me to this church to meet this man. I wish only the best for him, and I fully expect that as he reads this, he knows that we will be singing more songs again soon (did I mention that I have a song about bologna?) I leave this topic with this quote: "Greatness is not measured by how many people celebrate your presence, but by how many people mourn your absence."

Music. I couldn't imagine a day in my life without music. In fact, I would probably make music out of anything if I didn't have a radio around and my voice was hoarse. I have been singing more and more. Cantatas, karaoke, community chorales, you name it. I bought a new instrument, a djembe, which I have been banging on after work. Great for just having fun and making noise. I even, with trepidation, have restarted my music theory lessons. No, I don't plan on becoming a composer, but I am so weird, I even love to learn about music. Music is probably one of the most difficult languages ever written by man, and the most powerful. When aliens come to visit (watch Close Encounters of the Third Kind), music will likely be the best way to communicate, trust me.

So that is my mad ramblings for this week. Oh wait, we had a snowstorm last Thursday. And all those morons with licenses to drive proved once again that having a license to do something doesn't make you good at it.

Waiting for Wednesday - November 19, 2006

Did you ever have someone learn something about you that you did not possibly expect them to learn? Well, I did, but the kicker is, I put that stuff in a blog on this page. So, how in the hell did I expect people not to learn this stuff about me. My pastor, Kirk (I will let you search on your own for him, look up "The Cheese Song"), stopped me last Wednesday and mentioned that he "googled" me. Shit! He knew about this blog, about my old blog on blogger.com, about my sad attempt at web design from my Law and Technology class. Dammit! I swear in my blogs. I write about the things I observe. These are not for church, let me assure you. For days, waves of mortification plagued me. Allow me to lay some background though . . .

I was born into the Catholic Church, communed there, and just about confirmed there. Before the handcuffs and blinders were placed upon me, we moved away and slipped into heathenism. Then in middle school, mom sought to make sure that I did not end up somewhere in hell (trust me, I have enough jokes about how I am going to end up running hell), so she took me to the Lutheran church she had liked. My first exposure to Protestantism, and certainly, my first steps into rebellion and inquisitiveness that are imbued in my character today. Great-grandma, Irish Catholic extraordinaire, was none too pleased. And there I stayed, a Protestant, a Lutheran . . . occasionally, I battled with bouts of atheism, or more appropriately, agnosticism. I even ventured back to the Catholic Church a few years ago, but I never felt good at church. Something was missing. I wasn't doing it right.

Flash forward to finding the United Church of Christ (the "United Church" of Christ, not the United "Church of Christ" - which means something different). I walked into the local UCC church near where I live. There was music, and something that I had never really experienced at church, JOY. People were damn glad to be there. I was immediately drawn in. The message to me was very simple at this church. God has spoken, God speaks. And guess what, he is still here . . . listening.

Which brings me back to the whole blog thing . . . Kirk has read my blog. He tells me this right before we go upstairs for Crazies (the youth group). It's Wednesday. I am podnering in my little noodle what Kirk now thinks about me as he mentions "I even read the circumcision blog." Earlier this morning, I came to church renewed. I sang "Flood" during the offretory. But I was not alone. Roger, the Praise Band leader, Kirk, and his son each added their talents on the piano, guitar, and djembe, respectively. As these gifts from God filled the room, you could actually see joy spread through the sanctuary. It was uplifting. I couldn't imagine a better feeling. I was thankful, and remain thankful for the gifts and talents God has given me. More than the song, He has given me a church, one where the true meaning of church hits me - a gathering of people in the name of Christ to praise and worship God. How cool is that!

As I type this, I am listening to the Cheese Song, by Kirk, which I purchased from iTunes. I am looking forward to Wednesdays, where I have decided to work with youth ministries. Wednesdays, where for now, I sing with dedicated people pulling together a Cantata for the Advent season. Wednesdays, where I find things just naturally fall into place. I am not mortified thinking about who has read my blogs anymore. It's me and read them for what they are worth. And trust me, I do have some humorous religious stories in the hopper. Later gators . . .

Running Without Scissors - October 31, 2006

Since the new millenium, there have been a slew of movies about dysfunctional families . . . such as "The Royal Tennenbaums," "The Life Aquatic," "Little Miss Sunshine," "Running With Scissors," and many more. Why do many people like these movies? Commiseration! There is nothing better than sitting back and observing just how fucked up the lives of others really are. Is it limited to movies? Hell no. Pick up a David Sedaris book (I recommend "Me Talk Pretty One Day"), or read the two tomes by Dave Eggers (U of I grad), or enjoy "The Kid" by Dan Savage. Dysfunction is big business and I'll be damned if I don't want in on the action.

How do you begin to write a magnum opus of family decline and disruption? You could undergo hypnosis to dredge up horrific memories of verbal and mental abuse heaped upon you by your parents. I don't need to do that, as I only need to look at old photo albums to see the clothes my parents dressed me in (who puts corduroy pants on a kid in the middle of summer? sadists, I tell you). As I have looked back on pictures from my youth, I smile at some of the pictures that carry trauma and the overcoming of adversity all in one.

When I was nine, I had recently lost my status as only child. My mom had just given birth to my baby brother. My dad was unemployed (again). My mom had to work a second job to make ends meet, while dad made sure the tv set wasn't stolen. Halloween was fast approaching and I didn't have a costume. Far be it from my father to tear himself away from the latest wrestling match, I was left to my own devices to find a halloween costume. I had construction paper and a box, and out sprung a great idea. I needed some electrical tape, and thus began my costume design night. Skipping ahead, I made myself a Rubik's Cube costume. But, I was nine and lacked the forsight to plan appropriate armholes. Yep, you guessed it - I cut the armholes on the sides of the box, instead of the front (which would have made trick or treating much easier). It's a funny story, but would it sell in a dysfunctional family movie? (Probably wouldn't warrant more than a one to two minute flashback).

Ooh, a picture of me at my high school awards night. Yep, dear ole dad was absent from that. Soccer pictures? Not even sure if my dad knows I ever played soccer. And here is where the blog turns into a whiny rant. Poor Sean. *sniffle* Allow me to wipe my ass with these memories. And then a picture that warrants a story . . .

The picture is of a 1979 Buick crashed through the back of a detached garage. It's my garage. It's taken from the backyard of my best friend (at age 5), Mark Vlodman. As the tangent comes in to this story, I have no idea what happened to Mark after I moved away at age 10. What is important is how the car crashed through the garage - and the tangents that go with it. When I was five, my mom didn't know how to drive. She couldn't take driver's ed in high school because my grandma believed that only sluts drove cars. My dad was actually employed at the time and had just been given a company car, the 1979 Buick. It was about to rain. My dad was mowing the lawn in the backyard, conveniently enough, behind the detached garage. My mom, not wanting to leave the car out in the rain, thought she would pull the car into the garage. Well, the accelerator apparently stuck and the car lurched through the back wall of the garage. The car crashed through and knocked my dad and the mower into the air. Yes, the mower missed his head and he lived. Mark and I were in the driveway (contemplating ways to improve the performance of our big wheels) and shouted with glee, "Do it again!" Tell me that Wes Anderson could have written a scene like that?

There are many other moments of dysfunction - like me, as an 8 year old, getting yelled for misplacing the tools that my father never used. "Gee Dad, I'm eight-fucking-years-old. What the fuck would I do with a crescent wrench?" Each one on its own warrants a small chuckle. Taken together, I sometimes wonder why I didn't consume mass amounts of sedatives, become an alcoholic, knock up the neighbor girl, and move right into a shack outside of town. I guess I could pen some novel of epic proportions and earn my way into a meeting with David Sedaris to write a play that would win many awards.

Fuck that, though. Dysfunction is more fun when you get to tell your friends about the time your dad tossed you into the kitchen wall because he had a bad day at work (re-employment happened frequently for my dad). Why put it on the big screen? Excuse me while I go write the postscript to all the characters in my little saga . . .