Ahhhh, December!

December, when the wind whips the snow into drifts. The cold air nudges us indoors around fireplace and hearth, to cuddle with loved ones and drink hot cocoa. It is the season of giving, the images of Santa and Jesus and Valentines all throb with love.

Today, however, there's not an inkling of all of the above. It's in the high 50's and super nice outside. This is dangerous for me, for I need bone chilling cold that makes my very breath brittle, makes my nose bleed from frostbite. I need to hole up indoors and grade papers. Days like this are just too tempting. Every time one pops up, I think it may be the last for a long run, so I skip out and enjoy it. This is Kansas, after all.

How could I sit idle inside while the sun is so welcoming, the temperature so inviting...and the work so daunting indoors!

I will escape today, knowing I will only have to redouble my efforts the remaining 12 days to grades due. That's okay, so long as I can make the most of this moment, this weather, this day!

What rules my roost?

It just dawned on me recently that I have seldom had conventional living conditions. It seems there's some odd governing principle directing me to live in non-traditional settings...

Sure, as a kid, things were stable. I shared a room with my brother until we were teens, then we each had our own space. I lived in the same house throughout my entire childhood.

Then, when I went to college, I had roomies every year in a dorm. It worked out fine enough, and most of the folks I roomed with remained my roomie for more than a year. None of the former roomies is on my do-not-call list. (In fact, I should look them up!)

Late in college, when I moved off campus, it would have seemed a good time to get a conventional apartment. I did not. Instead, we shared the upper and lower levels of a nice duplex--took the door off that separated the two "housing units" and shared everything from bills to bagels. I continued the fine tradition of rooming with others up until the day I got married.

Then things seemed pretty standard, other than 3 moves in 4 years. We even had a year that was very conventional on our farm with our little growing family. Now we have incorporated multiple generations with my wife's parents (and sister) altogether with my 4 kids, my wife and myself. That's not very common in the USA today, but it is not really non-traditional.

In fact, I think it's more traditional than the insular, moving-off-on-our-own trend that is the status quo around here. It makes more sense economically. It works wonderfully for our kids to grow up in the close influence of their grandparents. We all help each other out with projects, chores, sometimes just swapping ideas in ways one could not if they did not share the same rooftop.

It can be trying for anyone, even man and wife, to share quarters. It would be a lie to deny that there are moments of tension. I can say, with all honesty, that I will always treasure these days we are sharing, that I know they are fleeting. I may take some of our time together for granted, writing it off to the work-a-day world, but I know that even mundane dinner conversation is much richer for the lives we share, the lies we swap, the tales we tell...and I would not have it any other way.

I hope that I don't rub anyone wrong too much around there. My metaphor is good, for as we rub each other wrong, we create sparks and heat...and that warm feeling? it's what we know as family!

Cardboard Furniture

I used to hang out with architects in college, and I had a passion for interior design ideas using found materials (recycling). The best of the best came out of a competition using cardboard. I toyed with cardboard some, but never have yet found the time to do much with it (but I do, of course, have ideas).

The best cardboard I've found yet is packing material around desks. Whenever a company gets new office furniture, I want to be there. The cardboard is about 1 inch thick and in a panel about 3ft x 6ft. If it could be indoors, I think it would be great building material. It's thick, durable, and best of all: FREE.

Blow me down!

Wind energy really does seem to have potential, especially here in Kansas (and ESPECIALLY where I'm from, SW Kansas!). Free energy just coursing by...and drawing on it has no bearing on it, so it is truly renewable.

I know the current way we generate energy from the wind is a bit less than well-received. Environmentalists worry about bird migration and bats suffocating and the general dominance of big wind farm turbines on the landscape. None of that is to be discounted.

Personally, I like the wind farms; they look like something from a sci-fi novel. That's probably why my dad liked the look of them too...that, and he was seeing dollar signs. Farmers get something like $2,000 per turbine on their land per year, at least that was the going rate 7 years ago.

Still, cool sci-fi looking turbines aside, I think we're not thinking this through well. I mean by the time you build, transport, assemble...then operate these giant things--c'mon. It's like putting a V8 on a skateboard. The generator housing atop these turbines is bigger than a full-sized passenger van! The blades are over 30 feet long!

I think that we need a better turbine, if we insist on wind-to-electric energy. Like the satellite dish, I think we need to go smaller. A thousand little propellers would be nicer to look at than 100 giant windmills. If you could wear a beanie with a propeller like this, and it could power your onboard electrically heated jacket in the winter, your iPod, smartphone, laptop, etc...that would be great!

The energy of ocean tides is harnessed, again convert it to electricity. Maybe all these Kansas wheat fields waving could likewise somehow be captured. All that back and forth has to generate static electricity. Maybe we can just run some kind of filament grid over a field and suck up some of that power?

Maybe we need to return to the original harnessing of wind energy and skip over electricity altogether. We could use windmills to turn:

• flour mills


• water pumps


• saw mills


• forges


• treadmills


• ceiling fans


• record turntables

...and doubtless, lots of other things.

I visited a bar that had belts and pulleys all over the ceiling operating the ceiling fans from one power source, an elaborate-looking Rube Goldberg affair that had me spellbound (and I wasn't drinking, either). I think it should be a staple in every home to have such a power transference mechanism like this to move the spinning of the windmill to the various speeds needed throughout a home. It would be cool.

Invention Tradition

Here's a mansion my brother and I built when we were kids. Back then, this was All-That and a bag of chips. It was before Legos got too carried away with specialty pieces, but you can see windows, flag pole, etc. that were pretty custom for the time (197o's). It was how we spent a lot of Saturday mornings, as I recall...

On Saturdays, my boys and I make up cool inventions. Here's a list of past ones:

• Pretty gun-makes anyone more attractive


• Kyle/Olivia cow invention--makes them into cows, makes cows for them


• Yes-in-ator--makes anyone more agreeable


• Robotic Toybox 3000--automatically picks up toys (not safe for children under 3)


• No helmet--reacts against yes-in-ator, generally negates everything


• Lightbulb that changes itself


• Duck shooter--great practice weapon with projected targets


• Costume maker--you think it up, it makes them all


• Auto-dog groomer--throw in the pooch and he comes out polished


• Age locker--stay eternally whatever age you are


• Time travel remote (like on Click)

It's a good exercise in creativity, and it's lots of fun. We discovered today that we have to start writing these down! (It was hard to even recall this list, and we've made up hundreds of things.)

Thanksgiving (buuuuuuuurp) Tradition(s)

Traditions....

We don't have many for Thanksgiving, except for pigging out. I think we should have more. My wife proposed a good one, spending the month of November writing down things to be thankful for and posting them on leaves (presumably fall colored paper leaves). That's a good start.

I think, perhaps, it might be a good time to remember the dead.

Of course I know we already have Memorial Day, Day of the Dead, All Saint's Day...but more personally for me, this holiday might be the only time to help my kids get to know my dearly departed dad. Their other papa. The dead one. (This picture, circa 1975, when he would have been 33 years old.)

It would be easy enough, for the next few years, to roll out an anecdote and related photos; for one thing, it would help me remember him and to record said memories. For another, unless I formalize this, I think he will evaporate to them, like so many mythological (and old cartoon) characters, dead pets, forgotten punchlines...

Juicy Job

What is the juice of my job?

It's not the paycheck! (image from Tack'0'rama)

When a student tells me:

....they'd never read a book before this one...they'd never read a poem and "got it" before...they'd never written anything so long as 1,000 words...they'd never been able to keep a diary/journal...they'd never enjoyed an English course...they'd never been forced to work so hard and end up happy for it...



When I have a moment:

...that students report they finally understood something hard...that I find a new/better way to deliver the goods...that an experimental classroom activity soars...that a parent encourages their kid to enroll in my class next term...that a student tells me he's encouraging his mom or dad to enroll in my class...when I realize I have had a family series of 4 siblings over the years all choose my class...when a colleague asks to sit in to see how things are happening...that I'm asked to help with a learning styles workshop at inservice...When I see grades at the end of the term that exceed my expectations, and I can rest easy knowing they truly are not inflated, that they really are earned by my "survivors..."



I guess, for me, it comes down to impact. I am sure that in the five years I taught English at the University I did fine, they learned some, it was all good...but that was 20 years ago and not a fair comparison to today. In fact, 10 years ago, when I was obsessed with work and myself, I was not the teacher I am today, and I did not enjoy my job as I do now. I did not always read over journals and class evaluations to notice incremental improvements in student work, behavior and (this is the biggie) a student's self-esteem.



That's just it. I went through it. They're going through it. I can help without getting all up in their business. I can empathize and do what I can to ensure learning takes place, even on the rocky shores of the life of a drop out, a third attempt, a busy single-mom-fighting-to-keep-custody-and-sanity. I really like hearing from my students years later, seeing how they have prospered, knowing (even in the very smallest of ways) I was involved. I helped that individual find a toe-hold of self-expression or self-esteem that was a (even tiny) factor in them becoming who they are.



Some students are not so needy, have a good head on their shoulders, know their future, just clock the time because they have to in order to go to (fill in the blank U). At the time they are in my class, they typically sigh a lot. Sometimes, in spite of themselves, they learn a little, too. Later, after they go on to the hallowed institution of their dreams, I often hear back from them, saying they wish I was there to teach them some advanced course in whatever. They appreciate the hands-on, down-n-dirty, applied, engaged, amused approach I take. I affected them and they realized it.



So the juice is impact, and that is a factor of learning, sure, but also a positive impact on their esteem. Whenever I take the time like this to realize what I am engaged in, in spite of the papers I whine about grading, I sometimes realize that this is a great occupation, one that's so great I am surprised I get paid for it! I should be paying the school for the privilege of teaching these fine people they call my students.

You are what you...

Intake?
I had an interesting discussion with a peer the other day who introduced what she said was an Asian theological belief/practice that essentially claims: don't take it in if it's forbidden. (I am not doing it justice, so I will elaborate.)

That is to say, as per her interpretation, if it's not good for you, ie forbidden (by you, not by some rule or legislation), then don't watch it. This was part of a discussion of extremely disturbing films (like the Saw series and that Nicholas Cage snuff porn movie). The same would hold true of bad music, the kind that chants or raps things you would never engage in but nonetheless absorb through music, perhaps.

The thinking is that whatever you are exposed to becomes part of you. Somewhere in your subconscious mind you are unable to discern truth from image, reality from (even the most loose interpretation of) art. Even if you do know it's not actually been said/done, it's a level of depravity and sinister glup you don't want in your head.

Hmmm...I don't know what to think about that.

The conversation went on to uphold the lifestyle and media of the pre-industrial revolution era. Then, of course, it was more work to intake anything artistic. One had to read, and at night, by candlelight. One had no radio, television, movie theatre, Internet... If you wanted bawdy, you had to travel to the red light district or a circus, I suppose. If you wanted violence, you had to pick it yourself or watch a barroom brawl. People were assumed to be, in general populations, more pure of mind and heart. One rationale for that assumption was: lack of exposure.

If this maxim is truth, then my kids are doomed. They have, in their young years, seen more violence and stupidity than I have in a life 7x as long as theirs. If it is truth, then I must be spoiled in all manner of writing, due to the poor writing I've graded over 20 years. I must not really know beautiful scenery since I spent too much time in western Kansas. (I know, I'm kidding. I'm stretching this exposure = evil thing too far.)

Regardless, it is an engaging thought. Are we so simple, underneath it all, that we really do not discern at some level? Does that make us numb to wrong, to pain, to the despicable things we've witnessed in movies and art? I hope to revisit this again some time and continue the thought process.

Greendale Community College

Check out this link to THE community college, Greendale Community College, where, "You're already accepted."

Dan Harmon is the man behind the great NBC series, Community. In the video above, he's hamming it up (as the college president) promoting Greendale, the setting for the series. Watching these promotional videos of the 5 "A's" really cracks me up, for these little clips are so much like promotional stuff I've seen for real colleges, even some I've worked for!

Even though the clips are satirical, they do still have a charm about them that makes me happy I'm working at this level. I really like community college instruction, the atmosphere, the student body. The emphasis is on students and teaching, not research or being all high and mighty. I know there's a lot of ribbing about Juco's being pud, but I can deal with it. Underneath it all, I like it here for I can measure the impact I might be having. At 4yr schools, it seems ever-so-much-more like a paper mill, for students are herded through with even less regard to them being engaged, learning anything.

I'll have to write more on this, sometime when I have time. The downside of working at this level is the LOAD, for I'm teaching more than twice what my peers at the 4yr do. Alas.

For now, I'll just confess that though I do not like TV, do not like sitcoms, and thought I'd be offended by a spoof of the community college--I really like this little show! I'll write a full review of it, sometime after I've watched more of it.

I am a family man.

"Family Man" from Trevor Little on Vimeo.

Song by Andrew Peterson
Video produced by Canyon Ridge Christian Church

What the future holds...

I don't have the numbers in front of me, but I can refer one to this and this for perspective. Everything is changing, rapidly. It amazes me that I can still find people who knew life before cars were commonplace. Imagine the changes in one lifetime, from no radio to the Internet, wireless! I, for one, really like central heat and air. I depend on my electricity 24/7. Though I hate trips to the dentist, I much-appreciate his latest technological advances that (presumably) reduce my pain as he toils away.

All that said, I have learned to question anything that seems to promise too much. If we work under the assumption that technology is good for us, that progress is paradise, then maybe we should be putting more of our resources and attention into progressing. If it's true that we have such a bright future, why waste time watching movies and football--billion dollar investments, let alone the actual time invested--and put all our chips on microchips? Let's get with the advancing, already!

Alan Lightman, professor of science and writing, and a senior lecturer in physics, at MIT, also the author of Einstein's Dreams and Good Benito noted ( in an article published over ten years ago. ) this:
"1939 World's Fair, in New York, one could read the following in the promotional literature of the futuristic General Motors exhibit: 'Since the beginning of civilization, transportation and communication have been keys to Man's progress, his prosperity, his happiness.'

He notes that in that one phrase we mixed up just what happiness was to be--and what a prediction that has been! The problem is, are we buying into hype? Are we creating our new version of happiness on this premise that it is bound to progress, and that progress is interpreted as technological advance?

This leads us, sometimes, to have a knee jerk reaction to new technology. As it rolls out, we tend to immediately adopt it. (About the only arena this is retarded by caution is in medical advances, and think of the grousing and complaining about how slowly we release new pharma-wonders!)

"New" is the new "sexy."
Some of this is our culture's sheer consumerism, the insatiable appetite to buy. "I want it all, and I want it now." That is fueled by advertising. It's all fueled by greed. Now I'm ranting again.

The point is, where will all this go?
I've read enough and thought enough to imagine a future where thinking things makes them happen...that is, instead of twiddling our fingers on keyboards to make symbols appear, it would be much more smooth (and not far from possible, even now) to think words into being, to communicate by thinking it out. I am not even yet talking about telepathy. A wetware interface, a bio-computer that lives on your desk or your person...or one that is part of your person...is not far away, and it will out-compute even the fastest Crays we have these-days.

Isn't that cool? A bio-digital gizmo that's low maintenance, that needs no external power, that's as portable as you are because it is incorporated into your corporeal being! Blazing fast! Unlimited storage? We got it coming. We've already been engineering ways to store data on DNA components.

I can see technology sweeping past the written word very soon. Even today, kids use txt msgs to eclipse traditional spelling and communication standards we adopted at the advent of the printing press. Is that a bad thing? Spare yourself the tedium of writing it down, the embarrasment of wording or spelling it incorrectly.

I would venture that sometimes speed and ease are not our allies. Sometimes, at least I have found this to be true, it is fruitful to toil. It is worth it to invest twelve hours in the reading of a novel rather than two in watching an interpretation of it blow by on screen. Sometimes it means more to share a letter with someone (okay, even an email) instead of a voicemail or a qk txt. A real relationship with a warm hug has some potency that no friending on Facebook ever will.

I wonder if we will reach a peak and then react. I wonder if there will be a day in which we bail out of all this wonderment of technology. Like so many doomsayers, I wonder, too, if we will come to this point before the technology has the better of us, as in dystopias like Matrix, Surrogates, Wall-E, 9...

Doorbuster

Black Friday every Friday to Christmas--so the advertisement reads. Decorations for Christmas were rolled out in the big box stores in early SEPTEMBER and now abound in even the botiques. The hype around the holidays is out of control.

Doorbuster Sale
This weekend only!

Counting down the seconds
Anxious for
the ball to drop,
the shoe to drop.

Sprinkling coins in the temple
In the frontal lobe.
Lobbed into memory:
"Foist the sales"

Eagerly anticipating
Earnestly needing

Well up
Thunderhead
Sprinkling,

raining
down on me
drops
hail
hell.

Sales.

Parenting Pain

Yesterday, my son read his birthday card aloud.

Soon, he'll be making money, then he won't need me any more for anything. That's how it feels anyway. I cannot imagine what it feels like when your kid comes right out and says such things (but I'll prolly hear them, eventually.)

It's one thing to own something out-moded, or to feel out of fashion or to be simply a bit rusty on something. It's another to be of no use.

I remember a similar chilling observation when my eldest son began verbalizing his thoughts. He was coming into his own. He was a free thinker, not some meat puppet kid I could manipulate. He had some unique ideas all his own that I was astonished by. I do not know how something so simple as autonomy was so surprising to me. Maybe because I realized, at least in ways, I was the Creator of this autonomous being, and the beastie was coming to possess his own thoughts.

Now the boy is becoming a reader, soon to select his own reading interests--last night he wanted to read from the dictionary together, he is so hungry for knowledge and vocabulary. This is both impressive and enjoyable. For one thing, he likes to process each word he can read, then discuss it, associate it with what he knows, ask for examples--generally let it roll around in his mouth a while. That's so cool! I am also thrilled, for he chooses the dictionary of his own volition. I did not even tell him about it until he sounded out the word on the spine and asked me what a dictionary was. We have a common interest, like some dads have fishing or NASCAR, only ours is wordsmithing. Finally, he asks me to do this with him, to find our way through the dark and into the light of the Word, together. I consider this a high honor.

This entire discussion reminds me of a great poem (one of many struck from our Lit book), Gjertrud Schnackenberg's "Supernatural Love." Check it out, for it resonates with thoughts on vocabulary building, parenting, and God's love.

I just want to celebrate!

...another day of living
I just want to celebrate
...another day of liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiifffffffffffffffffffe!

--from the song "I just want to celebrate" by Rare Earth

(listen to snippet at Amazon, buy it)

37 days until grades are due! That means I'll be free for almost a month. Too bad that's the coldest season and the longest stretch between paychecks, but I'm not complaining.

It's going to be 70 degrees today, and that's something to celebrate in itself. I love nice weather, especially when I can do something outside with the boys. (I did a to-do list recently, and whew! do I have things to do outside!)

My son turns 7 and we celebrate that this weekend. Woot Woot! He's growing into quite the little man. I can't say enough positive things about my boys with getting all sticky-sweet here.

1860 - Abraham Lincoln was elected to be the sixteenth president of the United States.

1861 - Jefferson Davis was elected as the first and last president of the Confederacy in the US.

1990 - Arsenio Hall gets a star on Hollywood's Walk of Fame


According to this site, November is:
National American Indian Heritage Month
Adoption Month
Good Nutrition Month
Peanut Butter Lover's Month
International Drum Month
National Alzheimer's Month
National Sleep Comfort Month
International Creative Child & Adult Month
Aviation History Month
Georgia Pecan Month
National Epilepsy Awareness Month
Real Jewelry Month
National Fragrance Month
Native American Heritage Month
International Impotence Education Month
Diabetes Awareness Month
Alzheimer's Disease Month
Drum Month
Epilepsy Awareness Month
Flu Awareness Month
Home Care Month
Marrow Awareness Month
Peanut Butter Lovers' Month
Sleep Comfort Month
Vegan Awareness Month
Child Safety and Protection Month

Discarding the Stuff that Dreams are made of...

Goodbye stuff.
I just listed you on Craig'sList, FreeCycle, Hand-to-Hand...and soon they will descend upon you and pick you clean. By the time I get home, there will be nothing but a slab where you once huddled and prayed that last prayer, "Remember me!"

I won't forget you, picnic baskets that once held my creative writing in my little office in Ark City, you who were my sacred keeper of my current Works that no one else has ever read. You who served as end tables when I was in my wicker fad. You, who despite your frailties, worked hard during several moves, holding odds and ends swept from counter tops.

And you, dear old fake tree--how I marveled at finding you, at buying you back when at Hobby Lobby on clearance! How you adorned office and home for the better part of ten years. You who most lately have been festooned with Christmas lights, and who now waits some future owner to dust you off, light you up, right your trunk and basket with a little sand. How I will long for you when I see you standing so stoic in the background of so very many pictures, always there, ever-silent, ever watchful.

Alas, my long-time friend, my wife's body pillow, who offered her so much comfort when she was first pregnant. You, the quiet, almost life-size napping buddy of mine, now curled up in the pile and hoping for a new home. You who once served my beagle, when he would steal away and rest on you, hoping we would not see. I will miss your comforts, and I hope you find a loving home.

And you, dear old computer monitor--we shared thousands of hours of eye contact. You let me peer into the endless reaches of the Internet. You offered me relief when I tired of grading online papers by distracting me with zeFrank and Bored.com. I remember when you were young and fully-functional, how proud we were of you, how sexy you were, a black monitor! You offered the promise of a new life for us, a potential new career field of digital scrapbooking. You were our first best friend-computer, and we will be bff's always, even as you are hauled away as "junk."

Toys! Ohhhhh that you must be discarded is a pox upon all parents. How crass, how cold, how heartless we who damn you to be melted down or to spend eternity in a landfill, void of the playful attention of children, only to be pecked at by birds and cockroaches. I remember so many of you, and more--my kids will remember you. They will itemize their losses, and even if they do not vocalize it, they will harbor some hatred toward me for giving you away. It should not matter that you are old, so am I. It should be inconsequential that you are not in the best of shape, tattered around the edges--I am, too. What matter, that you are not all there--the same is said of me, regularly. You, dearest toys, are truly the matter of memories, the essence of joys innumerable, and you are now relegated at best to a less creative child who did not get you on Christmas morning or warm in their happy meal. You will, perhaps, be sentenced to the island of misfit toys. You could end up in the hands of an evil child like Sid. How could we do this to you, when you were perfectly content to wait, gathering dust, until my boys rediscovered you again, and then in some years, again. Some day, you might have been handed down to the children of my children, but no--you are being thrown to the curb.

Goodbye, my stuff. You have been sacrificed for Space.
Forgive me.

Cheap, cheap!

Someone told me I should do a seminar or write a book on how I get stuff so cheap. There's really no big trick to it, usually it's just being in the right place at the right time, being observant. I've had great luck with about every purchase, except vehicles. (Someday, I hope to find that gem of a car for fifty bucks!)

Meanwhile, my latest score was a unit (96 pieces, I learned) of deck wood which I purchased at 1/4 the retail value. It's brand new, super nice, and now waiting for me to get building! Source? Good o'l Craig's List. Unfortunately, though the deck is now no longer in financial limbo, it's in a waiting list behind other building projects I have backed up.

I'm bidding on a barn that someone needs torn down. If I net that, then I'll have the chance to recreate a 100 year old barn on my property, for virtually nothing! That would be a true marvel. (Wait until my family finds out about this one!)

I have reported here many times how much I gain from garage sales, too. I don't know if I will ever break this addiction to bargains. I would like this enthusiasm for the inexpensive to well up and overflow into the rest of my life (and more importantly, my entire household). Getting things on impulse is expensive; getting things by poking around is rewarding!

In the Wake

I've long been processing something I read/rumored about regeneration. A post on Snopes.com launched a great discussion of this, at length (snippets far below, food for thought). A good, thought-provoking take on Chopra's thinking spawned a good deal of thinking on my part, over the years.

Here's the skinny: since our cells regenerate, we are in some senses "new people" every few years as those old cells that make us up die and new ones take on their roles. That's just animal science. Of course, we are made up of more than the parts of our wholeness, but in the wake of my Uncle's departure, I find it somewhat comforting.

As I try to shake off the slime of mortuary science that jades my every funeral experience, I grapple here for something more positive.

What are we, really, but interactions, thoughts and memories we contain and make? "The Mark of a Man," yesterday's preacher's 'words of wisdom' have some bearing on this discussion. This suggests, of course, that we need to be engaged. We need to be out there making memories for ourselves and others, perhaps to even exist? I suppose one could be whole and not be anything to anyone but themselves. They would then contain a great number of memories. However, when they die, they are gone, by that reasoning. Only s/he who also makes memories for others lives after themselves among others.

Likewise, we are an assembly of convenient atoms. Yes, atomically we are reconfiguring all the time and composed of everyone and everything, but more than likely, if I don't travel much/far, then I am a rather homogeneous being compared to a world traveler. Take it down to something more easy to grasp: when you drive by a feedlot and smell that effluvia, you are literally engaged with particles of poo, these connecting with sensory receptors in your nose. However, if I never smell curry, or the sweat of an old woman sitting alongside the Nile, the flower of the rain forest, etc...then I am less a person than I could be, were I travelling far and wide.

There, I feel both better and worse now.



Snips from Snopes....
A lot of this talk goes back to an ancient logical conundrum that bedevils the concept of "identity." Imagine you have a wooden ship, the traditional paradox goes, and as you make your travels planks and ropes and such slowly wear out. As each small component becomes unfit it is replaced. Eventually, no original material remains, yet the ship has been in continuous use. Is it still the same ship?And to make things even more complicated, imagine someone has been following behind and collecting all the old pieces, eventually hammering them into a (supposedly terrible-looking) complete vessel. Is this then the original ship?

Hai!! Deepak Chopra has to be the biggest claptrap that has ever happenned to eastern religions. His theories are to Hinduism and Buddhism what ID is to Christianity. He tries to provide a scientific basis to things that are meant to be read as metaphors. He takes the spirituality, and wraps it in scientific sounding jargon interlaced with "facts" to make it sound authorativeIn this case, the "fact" is used to "prove" the Buddhist belief that the self is an illusion (which is derived from the Hindu belief that the world is an illusion). This concept is used to rationalize that attachment to self (or wordly objects) leads to sufferring, and true happiness/salvation/nirvana comes when you let go of attachment to things. How often your body regenerates itself, or whether parts of it does/does not regenerate is not important. The science behind it is not important. What is more important is the realization that your body isn't "you". Even if you could prove to me that my my neurons/teeth/that spot behind my ear that I never wash is never fully replaced, you haven't negated any of the Hindu/Buddhist philosophy.

Choose to Matter

There are people who pass through our lives, who mean something to us, and then move on. Some are familiar family figures, others teachers or preachers, some just a toll booth collector or regular clerk at a store. They matter because they engage us, even if for a fleeting moment. They matter because (at least in my case) they brighten my life or bring a level of person-hood and personality to our interactions.

Some who have had such a prominent role in my life are not ever going to make it into the history books. Most won't make it into any book--except the phone book. Some of these folks will not be remembered by even 100 people when they move on. They may not have been civic leaders, church deacons, or public figures in any way...often the people who have mattered in my life have not even had glamorous jobs. In my interactions, they have often been farmers, factory workers, and of course, teachers.

What all the prominent people have had was a level of charisma and character I aspire to. They are individuals cut from a different bolt of cloth than the average, everyday passerby. They stand out because they are unique, sure, but also because they have taken the time (even an instant) to be a true person rather than relegated to their roles.

For example, there's a waitress in Arkansas City who was so very good at her job she knew our order, even after a year of us not going to her restaurant. She "knew" us, and she even "adopted" our little boy, loving him so much she'd carry him around on her hip as she refreshed people's coffee.

Then there's this woman at McDonalds in Park City. She has come to recognize our extended family and makes small talk with us every time we are at the counter. Even under the pressures of the fast food industry, she is gracefully engaging.

Our barber is a humble and talkative man who always keeps a running history of our lives and remembers our names and conversations. Though I only see him monthly, and the boys even less often, he is like family, and he cares.

Of the many people in my family tree, there is one man who really stands out as an individual who mattered to many of us: Uncle Edwin. His distinguishing feature was, above all, his sense of humor, even on his death bed this last week. [Anecdote: he was taken suddenly by ambulance to the hospital. A neighbor who worked for the police K9 unit then took Edwin's wife to the hospital soon after. When Edwin learned of her mode of transport, he asked her: "Did you have to ride in the cage?" That's just him, a cut-up 'til the end.] I've sat around reflecting on my encounters with him, and I cannot think of any time in over 40 years when he did not make me laugh.

Edwin was not a rich man, materially. He is not famous, not even too well-known even in his hometown, I'd venture. He always worked physical, demanding jobs that did not award him with accolades and gold watches. However, he kept it together for over 90 years, and he made an impact. He was an avid woodworker, story teller, fisherman, traveler, and all-around family man. The picture that will be used in his obituary and likely at his funeral is one of him smiling broadly, and that is a great representation of him, for he was always happy.

I admire people like these, people who, on a daily basis, choose to Matter.

Traditions

Seems I can never feel I'm doing enough with / for my kids. Those days when I go home exhausted and grumpy stand out in my memory, times when I just sit and growl single syllable answers to their wonders of the world. I guess what I tend to forget are the little things they value so much, like:

• Dance Night (usually Monday)
• Wrestling Night (usually Tuesday)
• Sock Mace Fight Night (often Saturday)
• Movie Night (weekly, usually when I'm too pooped for anything else)
• Game Night and Day (daily, lately as it gets colder outside)
• Story telling--EVERY night for over six years now
• Bath Night (alternating nights)
• Donut Saturday mornings
• Big-Breakfast Sunday mornings
• Big monthly birthday celebrations
• Gingerbread House making (Christmas)
• Fire pit parties
• Walks on the trail
• Home Depot project Saturday (1st Sat of the month)

...and I guess in listing these I do feel a little better, for each gives me reason to reflect and smile....like yesterday when we played Uno with our toes, the baby and the beagle. Or when we made a game of Toro from tossing things at someone, sort of like dodge ball in the house...or when during bath night Edison was just cracking up at my chicken imitation.

Today when I get off work, I'm to go to the thrift stores for Scarecrow wardrobing and effects, for this is the day of our 2nd annual Tradition: scarecrow and jackolantern makin' good times. Last year it was colder and we got a bit testy. The pictures bring up so much fun from it, though, and I'm positive today with be a great time. I think, now, as the Moment approaches, I revere it, and hopefully I can embrace it and realize that we're building traditions and making memories. I will make it a big priority today, try hard not to be gruff or tired or impatient. After all, these traditions can be adopted by my kids and carried on some day, and I wouldn't want a deadbeat dad to be part of the tradition!

Malaise these days...

Being overwhelmed for a night or weekend is tolerable. Being in this state for months, well...it creates a sinking sensation to say the least. Knowing that you are stuck in a rut and you can't get out of it is very heavy on the heart. Forcing euphoria and enthusiasm is only short lived, then when the party is pooped, darkness descends. It takes an enormous amount of energy to ramp back up for the next week, to sustain an impression, and thus, the crashes are all the darker and deeper when they happen.

I'm tired. I'm on cold medication making me more tired. I'm overdue for a nap, in fact, but cannot sleep due to a cough. I was up most of the night entertaining ideas and fighting off this overwhelming gloom of being too far behind to ever catch up, realizing even if I do, it will continue to mount up; even if I were on top of all that, even teaching a double load my earning potential is only half what our family needs. THAT gets very overwhelming, combining work and money.

At least when I hit the wall I just curl up and sleep. Used to be, I'd literally hit the wall, throw things, break knuckles and the like. Now I just melt into me and shut the whole world out.

ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The Invention of Lying

I saw one trailer for this film and thought it was a clever concept. I did not give it much more thought, did not consider the natural extension of the premise to encompass dating, religion, advertising, banking and commerce...but the film delivered on all this and much more!

What I thought might simply be an entertaining comedy proved to be a very thought-provoking journey into Truth and consequences. Yes, it had a love story to engage more box office (and frankly, seeing Jennifer Garner in her role was refreshing and enjoyable, for certain). Yes, it had some goofy comedic bits around the bar that I did not need.

On the whole, however, this movie is going to be one I show classes for film analysis and group discussion. My go-to favorites like Stranger than Fiction and Being There have new company!

Think Tank

SO, yesterday I attended a session at our Institutional Development Day. It was billed as an invitation to the college's new initiative: a think tank. Definitions and descriptions seemed to evade the group for most of the session; however, colleagues and I brainstormed other descriptive words that seem not to have made the cut: Think-
-vat
-hole
-stew
-bog
...and my personal favorite, Think-tub. This last conjures up delightful images of a group of innovative thinkers engaged in "ideation" as they soak in a hot tub, sipping their favorite beverages.

If only it were so.

Instead, our troupe trooped into oblivion and came back 90 minutes later somewhat worse for the wear. We were at odds with one another, the institution, and the world in general after our basking in the brine of boiling ideas.

Here's what I walked away with: we came to embrace the idea that the membership of the tank must have decision makers aboard, yet it must be an organization that is organic and fluid in nature. It would be tasked with shaking down good ideas to address key issues posed to the group on a regular basis. The tank would be populated with innovators, free thinkers, but also with critically minded individuals who could really give a thought some thought. Ideas presented would be to help "build a better Butler," which is vague, but wide-opened, and these ideas would be prioritized, reviewed, executed upon, added to...

...in other words, it was a more grass-roots version of the structure we've been building since I arrived here, that has 4 Priorities with Initiatives and goals underneath, presented to- and then groomed by- an executive council.

Two things were important, from what I could gather: 1) we need to insure every idea is given air and (more importantly) feedback whether acted upon or not. 2)we need to feel the current exec. council or whatever body is managing the current structure has everyday folk on it in equal number to the deans and bean counters.

Overall, it reminded me how very important feedback can be. I need to take that into my teaching, my home, and my life in general.

Pandora, Begorrah!

Click "TEXT VIEW" in the box above for most engaging results. Click any title and Pandora takes you to information and a sample. "VISUALIZER" is cool, too, though less informative.

"Quick, who's the one person who has been nominated for an Oscar more often than anyone else in any category? That would be composer John Williams, nominated over 40 times for his original film scores and orchestrations. He received his first Oscar nomination in 1969 for the score to Valley of the Dolls, and since then he has become the most recognized film composer in history, not just because of his scores, but also because he has successfully followed in Arthur Fiedler's footsteps as conductor of the Boston Pops Orchestra." --from Pandora (which provides a bio of nearly every artist on their site)

Here's a product endorsement: get Pandora! It's free, and it has introduced me to more new music than I can begin to list here. I also like listening to various internet radio stations, iTunes, tuning into LastFM and a variety of podcasts, but Pandora is my favorite. Why? This site features the Music Genome Project that intuitively calls up songs you're likely to like (and wow, is it accurate!) Up until this fall it was a commercial free, bug-free site. Now there's a tiny commercial every 1/2 hr or so, but it's not bothersome. The only fault of Pandora is a fault of my own: bandwith. That's all that's ever stopped Pandora from being a high performance machine!

Now back to John Williams. From Star Wars to Indiana Jones, from Superman to Jaws, Williams is all that! Pandora's music genome project has further led me to parallel artists from Hans Zimmerman, Philip Glass, Danny Elfman and Jerry Goldsmith to lesser-knowns like Jeff Johnson.

I am so impressed with his work that I have a John Williams station at Pandora, and it plays hours of epic soundtrack tunes just like I need when I'm contemplating the origins of the universe or grading papers...like I should be now!

Zoot me up!

So, waiting for inspiration for a blog entry, I was listening to my Pandora station patterned after the Cherry Poppin' Daddies, "Zoot Suit Riot." I really love modern swing music like this! Royal Crown Review, Brian Setzer, Swing Cats, Squirrel Nut Zippers, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy...the list goes on and on. The music, even the subculture, is sassy, fun-loving, fast-moving, and all-around, a good time. If I had money to burn, I'd be going to swing lessons, hanging out with the local swing dancers (not those kind of swingers) and even wearing the wardrobe, from a jauntily tipped, wide brimmed fedora to spats, the zoot suit.

On a whim, I thought I'd explore exactly what "zoot" meant. In a couple minutes of research, I learned that it was likely nothing more than a play on words to create a name for a particular style of suit that was evolving in the 1930's and migrating to the west coast by about 1940. I was well aware of the style, but I was absolutely floored to learn of the race riots associated with the zoot suit. What I thought was just a silly song actually commemorated true Zoot Suit Riots of 1943 in Los Angeles. Originating in a dubious death of a Latino, possibly a racial hate crime, it quickly escalated to include thousands of US navy and marines marching through the streets--not in an act of Marshall Law, bringing peace or controlling looting or something like the national guard might do...but systematically dragging out at cudgeling every Latino they could find, most particularly targeting the pachuco, that is, the zoot-suit-wearing sassy street kids (we'd now consider very well dressed gang members) of Latino ethnicity.

That was well-within my dad's lifetime. It was not something that happened before telephones and cars. Instead, like the civil rights brawls of the 1960's (well-within MY lifetime), these altercations were in the news, and people were well aware of them. I am continuously surprised to realize how young our civilized nation really is. As I get older, I find myself compressing the timeline I once telescoped. 20, 40, 100 years don't seem to take too long to me now. I am shocked at how brutal our culture once was, and I cannot fathom what it may be like in another 50 years.

Bob the Builder

image source

Okay, my name's not Bob, but my son's super hero is surely Bob the Builder. I'm starting to feel more and more like ol' Bob myself. I've always had a penchant for fixing things, regardless of my skill level. When I was 7, I started making club houses on my daddy's farm, usually converting a long-forgotten and neglected room in an outbuilding. (I think my dad commissioned me for two reasons, now that I think about it: a)kept me out of his hair and b)he would get a terribly filthy room cleaned up for free!)

I built fence, corrals, sheds, engines, dog houses, bird houses, book shelves, desks, bunk beds--to say nothing of things I've fixed. This is not to say I'm very good at any of it, but hey, I try. I find it inspirational, like a good bargain.

Cue yesterday: I responded to a Craig's List offering of "building material left overs" and WOW did we score! We have (so far) scavenged a pickup load of lumber and finish trim, exterior doors, etc. There are still VERY LARGE windows and some great limestone I'm looking at there, too. Also, yesterday I secured permission for a big score of very sturdy pallets. (Frequent readers know what these are for--everything!) I have also found a pile of extremely thick and large utility poles, which I really want but cannot fathom how to lift/transport.

My son, the Bob the Builder fan, went along with his papa and I on this scavenging operation, and he was so very happy. He was amazed at all the great free stuff. He spent the entire time we were there asking me what this was, what that was, could we take x or y or z, loading scrap wood into the pickup. He got filthy and he got splinters, but he was so very happy. Who needs Disney world when you have some free building materials!?

And I have building projects afoot:
1) get basement impervious to snakes, mice, etc
2) build pirate ship playground
3) enclose carport project
4) build tractor/hay shelter
5) build a dojo

This last entry is one I've been eager to do for some time. I still think using free materials, recycled materials, and natural materials works best for both my aesthetic and budget. This dojo idea would seem to benefit from the spirit of such beliefs, too. Something about charity and recycling, from the frame to the finish work, really makes me think a structure will have a good spirit. Like the Habitat homes I used to work on.

So, I'd best put on my overalls, tool belt and hard hat. Can we fix it?

YES WE CAN.

Send me to glory in a GLAD bag...

...don't waste no fancy coffin on my bones,
just put me out on the curb next Tuesday,
'an let the sanitation local bear me home.

Here's the whole song, performed in Concordia, Kansas (bonus!) by "Scenic Roots":


Okay, here's the thing. I've long held that it was an odd idea to be hermetically sealed in a vault, to even pay the funeral industry such coin for embalming and all the horrors associated with that. (Read "The American Way of Death" like I did in college, if you want an eye-opener!) What's the point of preserving my corpse in such an air-tight, sanitary way, when my life was lived at large in the elements?


Amy Eckert/Getty Images

Today's rant was inspired by today's news, about a beetle that is quick on the site to process the dead, as heard on NPR... Go here for the full coverage on NPR, including some intriguing links, songs, images, etc... http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=112894124 (In case the links "die," the story was titled "To Casket or Not to Casket," airing 10/9/09.)

I am something of a mortuary science aficionado. One of my biggest garage sale scores was the purchase of the training materials/notebook of a mortician from the 1940's. That documentation discussed uses of auto-body putty and paint, sewing shut some orifices and breaking bones to make for better a better fit into the box, etc...and that, my friends, is primary research, not some rumor or article, but the genuine article. I do not believe much has changed in the carnage of that "industry."

So, this is my living will, until I get a more official one: just pitch me out into the compost pile. Spare me the indignity. Let my body become again a part of the world around me...or I guess you could dice me up for organ donation first, then toss the rest in the compost pile.

Garage Sales -- 2009 Season review

I have written about them before, so this entry is likely just a brag sheet. Just last weekend, we landed at a very, very good sale (even in the post-season!) that offered us a lot of kids clothes, novels, costumes, and a coffee table I have been looking for for years (but had to leave behind, for I've no room for it in our house right now. The sale was a 3 household sale, and it was the most organized sale we'd seen all summer, maybe in years. Merchandise was organized by department, there was a check out area, there was a "holding table" for those of us who were gathering up so very much stuff it was too much to carry around as we shopped. Best of all, it was 1/2 price day, yet they still had so very many, very good items!

The only sale that possibly beat that one was a pre-season sale in which I was lucky enough to buy something like 20 classic hardback books for fifty-cents each! They are awesome! They are part of a collection people bought up, likely in the '60's from the Heritage Club. I'd been picking up one or two of these at a time, over the years, but at that sale, I hit the motherload. I was even selective, leaving a dozen or more behind (now I regret that, just because I'd like the whole set).

I also haunt Craig's List and I missed a great collection of those "Lawyer books" that would fill a whole bookcase with 200 impressive looking leather-bound hardcover books--of course, I don't have room for them, and I don't need them, but it would have been nice decor for home or office. Oh well, I am confident they will come around again.

The season was a great one, and we only went out a few times (due to $, time, and our whole entourage). We bought a $120 kids picnic table for $8. We found a few treasures we'd been wanting. The kids bought way too many toys. Best of all, it was family time that was affordable and (strangely) profitable, too. Good times!

10 years from now...

Ten years seems like a very long time, until I'm watching VH1 or listening to the "oldies" or watching syndicated television shows which bring it all back to me. Age brings perspective, too, and with that (hopefully) wisdom.

I've assigned this, and I've done this before ('just found one recently from 1986--boy did that go in a different direction!). I find it to be healthy, that it can contribute to positive goal tending, to put some prognostications into print like this, so here goes...

My kids will be 16, 14, 12 and 10.
I will be 58--geez, CRYPT KEEPER.
It will be 2019 (unless the world ends in 2012).
I'll have known my best friend for over 50 years!

I will have established a sustainable lifestyle and be (able to be) off the grid.
We will have livestock, gardens, storage, etc. and arranged bartering.
My kids will have gone through 4H (and maybe scouts) and be equipped!
I will have an established tree row and berm to block the highway noise.
I'll have written something fiction, something book-length, published.
My house will be at least 1000 sqft larger.
I'll have made it through my reading list.
Finances will be secure and comfortable.
My mortgage will be paid off (whew, wonder how that will happen!)
Online instruction will be my mainstay--giving me more time with family.

A child's art

I've been trying to formulate this for some while...Artistic Expression of Children who cannot yet write....there's got to be a better way to say that...amazes me.

My boys have AMPLE language skills, verbally. They can talk a stone into dust. They can out-talk and out-think their daddy. They have a story for everything. So far, however, they cannot put those ideas into written words.

They can, however, (with increasing aptitude) record ideas in images. These pictures they color are Significant to them, though I cannot tease meaning from them without the artist providing a narrative and explanation. (I have taken to writing the interpretation on the back, in pencil, along with the date.)

I wonder if the same image, these seemingly abstract "doodles," will represent the same ideas, stories, etc. to the artist in ten years. (I do not know, first hand, for I've never seen one of my childhood scribbles.) Will my boy be able to pick up some ink-blot looking picture he crafted and still know what it represents? What will it mean to him then? I have found these images can still carry significance over two years, experimenting on my six year old.

I used to wonder why parents put up such scribbles. Now I know. It puts that child that much closer to my proximity. I have something of their signature work at an arm's reach, while the child himself is 20 miles away. I can run my hand over the deep impressions of the colored pencil and almost feel his helter-skelter sketching. I can almost hear his voice telling me all about the picture.

Their stories, thoughts, and dreams can all be captured in these artistic artifacts, even before they learn to write all this in the code of written language. I wish my baby, who cannot even speak yet, could draw a little something. It would be fascinating to see how language and art evolve together. (Makes me wish I were back in school, studying such phenomena.)

"So Much the Drama!"

...so said my sweetheart Kim Possible.

This weekend we took our children to a matinee musical put on by my college, a production of "Once Upon a Mattress." Two of my kids are spectators who can watch television or movies with utter attentiveness, so I knew they'd be into a play. The middle boy could care less for watching anything, but even he was into it at times. My 5 month old--well, she was a bit of a surprise. Usually she's fussy, but throughout that musical, she was happy and smiling and overall a bit smitten by the stage, I think.

Even with them wriggling and squirming and talking and wanting to go in/out...even with the embarrassment of them shouting out at inopportune times, etc...it was a magical moment. Only two of the four had seen a live production before, and even that was not the full blown theatre experience.

It was very good for them, and they are still talking about it. When we wandered the property yesterday, they were singing along and narrating their actions. Even when it seems they are not paying attention, believe me, they are! I could catch phrases and melodies from the performance, and even when it was just ad lib stuff, it was so very cool.

I hope to keep chugging down this course of exposing the kids to stuff that's good for them!

Pirates of the Caribbean

Normally, I am more-or-less immune to overtly commercial franchise products, re-imaginings of comics into film, multi-billion dollar corporate media manifestations and the like. So what sense is there in me being so very obsessed with a Disney park ride converted into a series of campy films? The franchise is nothing but a cash cow (global box office of the three films comes to over 2 billion bucks!) Is it my alleged man-crush on Johnny Depp? Is it (more likely, by my assessment) a fascination with Keira Knightley?

I cannot explain it. I cannot dismiss it, either. When people ask me that hypothetical question, "If you could meet anyone, absolutely anyone on earth from any time period, who would it be?" I am just as likely as not to say "Captain Jack Sparrow!" If I have my headphones on at work or my earbuds in at play, it's more-than-likely I'm listening to Hans Zimmer's Pirate's soundtracks (as I am at this very moment). I am looking forward to a lot of things, like the end of the semester in 73 days, 5 hours and 3 minutes, but I am especially (more than anything else) looking forward to Pirates IV, On Stranger Tides, where Barbosa and Sparrow will sail in search of the Fountain of Youth!

I think I'm always looking for a hero, and when I find one in the more unlikely places, like on the deck of a pirate ship, I am pleased.

Rediscovered: Google SketchUp

Recently, I rediscovered Google SketchUp, a cool, free tool that allows one to draw in 3d, rotate and resize, skin the image, the works. Sure it's not AutoCad or something elaborate, but hey, it's FREE. While some people could lose track of time watching television, I think I could spend days on SketchUp and never leave the chair.

If ever I generate anything worthy, I'll post it here.

It's free in Google's Labs.

Week End

Ten years ago, I did not value weekends. I did not honor them...I just didn't have them, period. In fact, I spurned weekends, thinking they were for the weak, for those who lacked dedication. In my mind, I was on a mission, and I just had to work hard 24/7. Anything less was not my best. Somehow my identity was so entwined with my work that I was lost.

Okay, maybe that was only six years ago.

Today, this being a FRIDAY, I cannot fathom that person I was. I have been aching for this day since Monday, and that's not probably any more healthy than being a workaholic. I am not going to any fall festivals, football games, parties...I am not even looking forward to anything on television. I will not be sleeping in (never do) and I don't even know what being bored is all about. The hammock is for Homer Simpson. Give me a hammer!

I have been aching and itching to build something. This weekend, at last, I may get some of the raw materials to do just that. I'll have to borrow a pickup, and I'll have to borrow some time from work (as I am perpetually behind now that I have this more healthy perspective on work), but I fully intend to get cracking.

It is also payday Friday, which for me is a rarity, as we only get paid monthly in the first place, and that seldom lands on a Friday. I'm going to expend all my fun money in the budget (that's a joke in itself) all-too-quickly, I know, but I have SO YEARNED for this opportunity.

Not even rain will stop me.

No force in heaven nor on earth could keep me from my mission--except my family. If they beck and call, I will forfeit all of the above. Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Maybe I can tool the tribe up with hammers, saws, gloves, etc. Maybe I can take them with me to Mecca: the hardware store!

Anticipation is killing me. I still have work to do for the next 3 hours, 46 minutes and 14 seconds.

Last day of summer!

Usually as seasons change, semesters end, people age--I get all sad and sappy. I'm trying not to, trying to resist regret and to instead reflect and wax nostalgic. Like a year in review, here's my summer in review:

• Built a carport
• Got a goat
• Carson to the ER for a hot punk in the eye
• Edison to the ER for another head injury
• Taught too much online
• Built a technical writing course online
• Developed a good workshop for SL
• Worked with some good staff members on SL
• Met a great new crop of students for Fall
• Got a new office set up
• Met my goal for my blog (at least in number of entries)
• Massive birthday party (complete with tent city campout)
• Had another kid, Ellison!
• Went home to Ulysses
• Had a good run w/a garden (not up to snuff, but okay)
• Kept the place mowed down

Well, it's better than lamenting all the stuff that didn't get done, anyway.

Lawn Chair

Design by Fung & Blatt Architects.

This is my sense of humor. It might even be comfortable, except for the chiggers, fleas, ticks...

Don't Shoot Me!

So, I'm writing from my wife's scrap book room, a room virtually wallpapered with photographs of people. It makes me think about those people who have an issue with being photographed. (No, not those who are ugly or disfigured like the Elephant Man!) I'm not writing here about people who are camera shy, like my mom, either.

There are people of some faiths who feel that to have one's picture taken is to rob them of their spirit. There are others who argue against photos for some reason founded in "no graven image" language somehow (I'm admittedly lazy tonight and not bothering to look this up right now.) If those folks have a point, then my family is DOOMED. We take about 200 photos every time a child is born. My wife took about 5000 pictures a year, as I recall, when she first got her digital camera!

I hope they're wrong about pictures stealing one's soul!

Service-Learning

I believe in service-learning. I have long been a champion of the pedagogy, for at least 15 years by my count. I ran a big SL program. I argued and fought long/hard for that program. I made many friends and more than a few enemies through SL. Being the "executive director" of a SL non-profit 501(c)3 taught me more than 10 years of college ever did. I also served in the decade I was engaged in SL administration (and frankly lots of field hours painting, picking up trash, etc. for I believed a leader must also serve)...more then than in the other 3/4 of my life...and more likely more than I ever will again.

It's powerful to have something to believe in.

Now, having said that, I sometimes wonder about the edges of SL. What the general definition of SL encompasses is: learning from service. That should have been founded on community voice and input, should be meeting a legitimate need, should be empowering and improving the servant and those served, and should always have a learning component (otherwise, it's just volunteering). Definitions overlap when considering civic engagement, community service, etc.

One area of overlap that I am leaning more toward all the time: internships. Traditionally SL stops a mile shy of the internship, for that smells too much like self-serving engagement in the lucrative world of the for-profit. In other words, bleeding heart types often would rather keep their eggs all in the basket of social service and social change. Volunteering becomes something else when a company that could afford to hire someone capitalizes on hapless do-gooders.

Still....if someone is giving their time to the greater good (even the corporate greater good) and if they are learning from it, then it seems to have potential that in all my program development we never explored. Students win. The company wins. Even the college could win, in that they might garner corporate $upport and $cholarship monies in exchange for farming out interns. Writing that out makes it seem a bit too much like bad business for colleges, but is it? Really? Is it unethical? Is it somehow lessening the umpah of ServiceLearning?

I am unresolved.

What--I was hungry!

Edison, I have a terrible confession to make.

Karate ROCKSTAR

House-guests come and go. Even without participating in the global phenomena of couch surfing, I've entertained quite the legion of extraordinary individuals. It's been said there are only something like 6 degrees of separation between you and anyone else of note, but seriously, who's the most famous, important, prominent celebrity you've ever hosted? I've taken Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. to lunch. I've dined at a banquet hall with two or three presidents. I have shaken hands (and since washed them thoroughly) with many politicians. I've known people who knew people who were People, from rock stars to movie icons...but the most impressive person I've ever had in my home, hands-down, has been Shihan Fumio Demura.





This man, this legend, has taught karate since 1965. One should visit this Homepage which traces the lineage of leadership from 6th century, Shaolin Kung Fu to today's Genbu-kai. Sensei has had a powerful influence on literally thousands of karate students worldwide (and I do mean worldwide!) In addition to everything else, he has had a hand in authoring 4 books and has been involved in over a dozen movies (training Steven Segal and Chuck Norris, even). Consult his resume, for it will really knock your Gi off!

I have encountered him through my father-in-law and family. My father-in-law has been a student of karate under Sensei Demura for over 25 years. His life has been profoundly influenced by martial arts, and he has passed that on to many, many people throughout the midwest. Through this relationship, Demura came to stay at our home over this last weekend.

Sure, he's a lethal weapon. Yes, he has an army of followers who would take a bullet for him. I'll give you that he's the devil in a black belt...but none of that is what I find impressive. What really wows me about him is that in spite of all that fame and importance, he's a down-to-earth guy. He's humble! (Maybe not in his arena of karate; I couldn't say, but in my home and encounters, he's been the most kind and humble person in my door.)

He preferred to stay with us, at our little farm house, swarming with kids and chaos, over any hotel in the greater Wichita area. He enjoyed playing with my little kids, making origami swans and such. He painted(?) words for each person in our house and cooked us a great supper as a thank you for hosting him. The guy was right there in the hearth of it all, the entire time he was not at the karate tournament. (I have family members more distant than this international superstar!)

I am not good at conveying my feelings to people, especially when the person is once-removed from me or when I have something really heart-felt to share. Here's what I wanted to say to him, to just sit down on the couch with him and say:

You know, Sensei, you are such a delight. The people of karate owe and show you a lot of respect, while I don't even know how to bow properly...but I want you to know that I respect you deeply. I admire your passion for your art, your monastic discipline, your unflagging leadership. Thousands know you as an icon of karate, and for that, you will always be remembered throughout history. For me and my house, however, you hold another value. You have given Dean a model to aspire to, and that has enriched his life then rippled through so many others' lives around here (including my own). The lives you touch outside karate matter to you just as much as those who practice your art. My own wife and children have been befriended by you, entertained and instructed by you. You have invested in our household in a way I will always appreciate. I wish I had the nerve to tell you all this in person, but I am too awestruck. All I can add is my eternal thanks for being "all here" when you have been with us. You will always be with us, even though you are jet-setting from Canada to Kansas, Germany to Brazil...

Leave my 'net alone!

Last week, I found an alarming article at the Technology Liberation Front, here, that forewarned the Internet is being threatened by Obama's CyberSecurity Bill: "According to a report by CNET’s Declan McCullagh, a draft bill in the U.S. Senate would grant President Obama “cybersecurity emergency powers” to disconnect and even seize control of private sector computers on the Internet."

BFD? OMG?! What will it be?

Are we going to continue being electronic sheep, letting ourselves be narrowed to nothingness online? What's the hope for free speech if even the Internet is in peril. Obviously hardcopy newspapers are blowing away. Obviously televised news is all under the heel of media giants. What will happen if someone fires up a swarm against something the big "O" considers sacred? Will he then wave his majestic hand and cut off the 'net? What will govern the government's grasp on this? Maybe our current president is of sound mind and only going to use said powers judiciously, but what about the next president, or the one after that?

The more power we align under the executive branch, the more we tilt toward fascism.

09/09/09

*sigh*

I really wanted to celebrate this day somehow. A few years ago, I wanted to get married on 2/2/02. That would have been significant. I wish I could have gone sky-diving or gotten a tatoo or something today!

Instead, it was a day of work and a night of mediocrity.

I don't know the word for those dates that align like this, but I know there won't be another for a long while. Bummer.

Why I'm not a very good care-giver...

So, this weekend we hob-nobbed with my great aunt and uncle, she 89, he 92. On the first brush with them in years, we were standing in line to order. She came up closer to me to say something, then she wobbled, teetered, and nearly lost her balance. The Right Thing to do would have been to step up and catch her. Instead, I flinched.

I hope the flinch was all in my head. I hope she did not notice. I know I did not bump into the next person in line beside me. I didn't spill my pop. I did not blurt out something out loud, like, "Ahhh! Get away from me!" It was, in any case, a very unmanly move on my part. I credit it to being so far removed from the role of care-giver. Yes, I have a septuagenarian living in my home, but she's a bit more light on her feet, like a turtle.

It's not that I fear the elderly. I do not run from the feeble or needy, as if they were zombies or something. I'm just not accustomed to being a catcher. (You'd think I would be, if you knew how sometimes-clumsy my wife is!) Parenting involves righting toddlers and propping up babies, but not catching a slow-falling senior citizen.

I need to get better at this. I simply have to, for there will come a day when my services are needed. If nothing else, I'll likely have to watch my own footing, someday. Besides, I am a kind and loving person, and my body language (and follow-through) should reflect that! I can't back away when someone needs me.

While I'm analyzing my weaknesses, I am very bad at condolences. I just cannot bring myself to express my sorrow at some one's loss. Most of the problem is that I just don't know how to talk it out, and thus, I think I come off sounding insincere, flaky, like a Hallmark card. This all started being a problem when I was on a 3 hour ride from college back home with a guy who'd just buried his father (after he was the first on the scene to find his father had shot himself in the head). That was a gruelling ride. I just did not know what to say..."Well, Bob, how was your break?...Say, sorry about your dad and all...Did you see the game?" It was a very, very long 3 hours, and I do not think I will ever recover. He claims I was there for him. I claim I was a boob. They say that funerals are for the living, but everyone I've been at as a grieving family member seemed more for the dead guy. Nothing anyone said really consoled me much.

Oh, and I'm no good at math, either, but that's another entry.

Boy, Girl, Canoe...

My son of six played this song over and over tonight:
Just a boy and a girl in a little canoe
With the moon shining all around
As he glides his paddle
You couldn't even hear a sound
And they talked and they talked
Till the moon grew dim
He said you better kiss me
Or get out and swim
So what you gonna do in a little canoe
With the moon shinin' all a--
Boats floatin all a--
Girls swimmin' all a rou-ou-ound!

I'd attach the audio if it weren't for copyright issues. Then you could endure what I did: that annoying high pitched girly chorus not unlike Kids' Bop (only slower and tamer).

Anyway, the reason for this post--it was so very cute that he liked the song. I remember when I got my first cassette tape, band named Bread, and I replayed the song "Aubrey" until the tape broke. I had that same stars-in-the-eyes look that my son has now. I, however, was THIRTEEN not SIX. Oh well, maybe I developed slowly.

Anyway, he was singing along (something he never does) until I noticed. When I asked him why the song was so great, he blushed. Eventually he told me it made him think of this girl he likes. She's been his crush for years. Now he's gone upstairs to make a bracelet to give her this weekend. Who am I to tell him a girl 10 years his senior will not want anything to do with him? (My wife is many years younger than me, after all!). I hate to see him get his heart broken, even bruised. I went through A LOT of that in my younger years. Nothing hurts worse, except the death of a loved one (and throw pets in there as loved ones, for I can still feel the pain from when my first dog died).

So, chalk one up for young love and the parent who tried to stay out of the way. We'll see how it goes. If ever I can arrange his little romantic moment, however, with a canoe and a lake, I'm going to intervene!

Sky Captain

My desktop image is a scene from Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. The movie came out almost five years ago and I've watched it several times on DVD since then. While it's not the greatest movie EVER, it is uniquely appealing to me for several reasons.

For one, like Sin City, it's filmed entirely in front of a green screen. Only the actors are not CGI or otherwise processed. I need to do my homework on the movie to learn more of it's production story...I only know that the effect is dazzling. It resembles the 50's movies and pulp sci-fi it was patterned after. Stunning. The film is set somewhere around the 1930's, I think from the wardrobe and other clues (The wizard of oz was playing in Radio City Music Hall, and it came out in something like '39 or '40.)

I also like the film for it's something of a sci-fi adventure, featuring War of the Worlds robots, air planes that can also become submarines, mutated creations of a mad scientist, a giant rocket ship designed to serve as the Ark for a new era....you get the idea.

The cast is good, too. Angelina Jolie (in a minor role by any one else's measure, but to me even a cameo of hers MATTERS) is the captain of a fleet of British fortresses floating in the heavens. As Captain Francesca "Frankie" Cook, she is in command of an amphibious squadron. Gwyneth Paltrow plays Pollie Perkins, the Lois Lane-type reporter who's breaking the biggest story ever told. Both women have been involved with Jude Law's character, Joe "Sky Captain" Sullivan. This provides just enough of a love triangle to justify keeping both these beautiful women in play. Cook wears an eye patch and is just too butch. Perkins is too perky and just a little too blonde to be credible.

Lastly, I have a collection of 10 movies that matter to me. I cannot really put this one down, just for the eyecandy effects and period setting. It's pulpy, campy, and not likely to ever see a sequel, but it's just one of those movies!

Cashing in on Exoneration

Now, first let me say that I am all about fair play. I truly feel that people should not be imprisoned wrongfully, and if they are later proven innocent then let them out, for crying out loud. That, however, is the end of my good will.

There's a bizarre practice in Texas that pays DNA exonerees $80,000 for each year they were wrongfully imprisoned. I would make more money in prison than I do in my job now! Throw me in the Texas pokey for a few years, and I can pay for my kids' college...or like one cat who served 23 years in the slammer, maybe I'd buy a million dollar home!

It's no big surprise that most of these cash allocations are being squandered. What money management skills are reinforced behind reinforced concrete? How many cigarettes might one trade for a comic book? We might as well give money to monkeys.

Sure, I think it's too bad that innocent folk wasted away in prison, earning degrees, lifting weights, watching television, playing on the Internet. I sure think we should give them an apology card or maybe the governor should write them a nice letter. Why on earth should they be given $80,000 a year? Is that some reflection of their would-be earning potential? When they were jailed with no skills, no prospects, etc.? If we're going to play this silly compensation game, then I believe their exoneration cash out should reflect their true earning potential, the cost of living reflecting the years they were in the pen, and the local economy.

If we're going to start paying for mistakes, literally paying for mistakes like this, when and where would this end? It seems to be an infinite fun house mirror.

This stinks!

So, I heard on the radio that there is a bill being considered in Honolulu which would ban people with BO from public transportation. The story came from the Honolulu Advertiser, Tuesday. According to the proposal, this law would make it illegal to bring anything onto the bus, including clothing or animals which might emit an offensive smell. If convicted, a person could be fined up to $500, spend up to six months in jail, or be both fined and jailed.

So, what's "offensive"? Cheese? Sweat? Strong perfume? Who's to judge?

This question echoes every time legislation is introduced like this. What music is too loud? lyrics too coarse? What billboards or advertising creep too much into view?

It's bad form to legislate manners and good taste. If you ask me, let people work it out among themselves. Why can't we all get along?

Less laws. More common sense!