Gifts of the Magi

Near my wife’s office, there are a rotating group of homeless men that panhandle near the freeway.  They appear to be harmless enough, and many of them even wave at the drivers as they go by.  Most of them are wearing dirty, shabby, mismatched clothing; and they look as if they haven’t bathed or shaved in years.  But they are out there every day, regardless of the weather, with their little cardboard signs, seeking a small bit of kindness where they can find it.

As the weather has started to turn colder, I asked my wife if there was a shelter nearby where the men would go at night to stay warm.  She said that apparently there used to be one, but it was closed down due to complaints from businesses in the area.  While one part of my brain understands this, the other part was greatly troubled by it.  Regardless of their choices or misfortune in life, nobody should freeze to death on the streets.

I remember a story that my pastor shared one Sunday in church.  He said that a man was watching the news one day, and he was appalled by the horrors he was seeing around the world.  On every channel, it was the same theme…people suffering.  So, he prayed to God, “God, why are you letting this happen?!  You need to do something about it!”  And God replied, “I did.  I created you.”  One of the messages for our church this year was serving the needs of the people around you.  You don’t necessarily need to go to the other side of the world to find someone to serve.  There are people in your own backyard.

So, with this in mind, I asked God what I could do to help.  And just like the man in the story, God answered…clear and precise.  It was so specific that it made me feel like I was getting exact dimensions to build an ark or something.  He said, “I want you to create a care package with a warm coat, hat, and gloves and give it to the next man you meet panhandling by the freeway.”  I asked the Lord, “Just one?  That doesn’t seem like enough.  There are so many men in need, how is one going to make a difference?  Surely, we can do better than that.”  Again, He responded, “Not one…three.”

I tentatively shared this revelation from God with my wife.  I wasn’t sure how she’d take it.  I know she has a rational fear of these homeless men, because she’s witnessed some of their drug-related encounters with law enforcement.  I don’t think it’s the same men, but the images are stuck in her head nonetheless.  Besides which, I was talking about a significant chunk of money; money that we definitely could use for other things.

Nothing could have prepared me for her reaction.  She was just as enthusiastic to participate as I was!  In fact, she suggested that we also add some food to the bag, so they wouldn’t be hungry.  And that’s one of the reasons that I love her so much.  Not just because she can still surprise me, but because she’s supportive of my hairbrained ideas.  She never even hesitated to give me free rein to fulfill my calling or be obedient to God’s instructions.  She just asked what she could do to help.  On top of that, she unconsciously showed the underlying layer of kindness that makes up her fundamental core by adding the food; her contribution to the gift.

So, the next night, we set off to the store and started to purchase the items.  As I was sifting through the winter clothes, I found some warm, fleece pullovers.  I decided to throw them in the basket too.  Then, I grabbed some scarves and socks, because necks and feet get cold too.  I mean God didn’t say I couldn’t add more than he directed.  He didn’t say I couldn’t be more generous.  So, these extras were my contribution to the gift.  We all had put a part of ourselves into it, and we affectionately called the enterprise the Gifts of the Magi.

In the story of Jesus’ birth, the magi were kings or wise men from the East who followed a star to worship the newborn King of the World.  They brought with them gifts to pay homage to the One that God had sent to save us…gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  Even though there is no mention of the exact number of magi in the Bible, common belief has always been that there were three of them, because of the mention of three gifts.  The gifts themselves also hold meaning and significance.  Gold was commonly used to represent kingship, showing that Jesus would be King of the World.  Frankincense was commonly used to represent deity, showing that Jesus was God in human flesh.  And myrrh was commonly used to represent death, showing that Jesus would die for our sins and in our place.

So, like the magi of the Bible, we packaged up our gifts and set out to deliver them.  Our recipients might not have been a baby from a virgin mother, but they still deserved a little Christmas kindness.  The giving of the gifts proved to be more difficult than you might think.  Timing the traffic and stoplights with being properly positioned to hand a bag out of the window was not easy.  Not to mention that the first couple of mornings that we drove by the corner, there wasn’t a single homeless man in sight!  But I persevered, and was finally rewarded one evening on my way to pick up my wife from work.

The first man that God brought me to was a thin black man with an oversized FedEx coat that looked like it used to be blue, but now was more of a black or gray; a faded Texas A&M cap; and shoes that were so torn up that you could see his toes through the front of them.  I motioned him to the car, and he limped down to my window.  I handed him the first bag, and his response made me laugh.  He said, “Is this a bomb?”  I told him it was just a gift and wished him a very Merry Christmas.  That was it.  The light changed, and I had to move on.

The second man that God brought me to was a tall, white man with a big, bushy, gray beard.  I had seen this man on another day actually save another homeless man from walking in front of a semi-truck, so I knew that I already liked him.  Unfortunately, I was too far away and wasn’t able to time the stoplight with the position of the car.  So, after dropping my wife off at work, I circled back through as gas station, crossed all three lanes on the feeder road, and found myself directly beside him.  I motioned him to the car, and gladly came to the window.  I handed him the second bag, and he gently took it with both hands.  All he said was, “God bless you.”  To which I replied, “You as well.  And Merry Christmas.”

That same afternoon, God brought me to the third man.  He was dressed slightly better than the other two and didn’t have as much beard growth, so I assumed that he hadn’t been in the life quite as long.  I motioned him to the car, and handed him the third bag.  He responded, “Man…what is this?  All of this is for me?”  I replied that it was, and he said, “You have no idea, but I desperately needed a bag, and look here, the Lord provided one.”  He shook my hand, asked my name, and shared his story with me.  He was trying to save up enough money to get back to Oklahoma to see his family.

I was overwhelmed by the fact that this man acknowledged that the Lord cared about even something so small as a bag.  It made me truly appreciate that God is looking out for all of our needs, no matter how small.  It also felt good to actually do something to help, instead of just expecting someone else to take care of it.

Ethiopian Hand…Wrist…Shake…Grasp

Today, YG asked me how I would greet someone if I had something on my hands.  Normally, I would shake hands with someone when I greeted them, so obviously I couldn’t do that if I had something on my hand.  I told him that I might apologize and explain the situation, and possibly shake with my left hand.  He said that in Ethiopia, people will actually offer their wrist instead, and the other person thinks nothing of it to grasp their wrist in greeting.  This, of course, fascinated me, so I decided to do some research on this and came across the following list of Ethiopian etiquette as it relates to dining.

Traditionally, Ethiopian food is eaten with the hands. This is done by tearing off some injera and using it to scoop up some food and then eat all of it. For newcomers, this may feel slightly awkward at first, but usually it becomes fun after a while. Foreigners are not usually familiar with traditional Ethiopian etiquette, so here are some tips before you come:

• Communal plates are usually used for traditional meals, but reaching across the whole plate to get food is impolite, stick to eating what is close to you.
• The left hand is considered unclean in Ethiopian culture, so try to remember to eat with your right hand.
• You will always be able to wash your hands before and after the meal. A waiter may bring a basin and a water pitcher for you to do so. Hold your hands over the basin and the waiter will pour the water over your hands.
• Don’t be nervous or shy!! It’s completely normal to have your hands covered in food and grabbing food with the injera can prove difficult at times. It is acceptable to use your hands to grab food as well, but it’s usually easier to use injera.
• Often, when greeting people at the restaurant, they will have washed their hands already, but they may be covered in food. Instead of a handshake, lightly grasp their wrist, when they offer it, but do not shake it. If your hands have food on them too, touching your wrist to theirs is acceptable as well.
• A gesture that you may encounter is the gursha, which is when someone puts food in your mouth. This gesture is one of respect and it is polite to accept it.

Grandma Balboa

I was sitting here today, working on my blog, and I was doing some research on one of the stories.  All of a sudden, I noticed off to the side of the article an ad for a breaking news story about a 90-year old grandma that was viciously kicked during an unprovoked assault.  The article has video footage of the assault, as well as an inset of the bruised and battered grandma.  Just below that is another ad that shows a very similar-looking grandma in spandex shorts and running shoes training at a high school track.

I don’t think this is coincidence, and I pity the man that attacked her.  Because obviously this grandma is not taking this attack lying down.  She’s about to go a-la-Rocky-Balboa on his butt!  I saw Rocky IV, when he was running up a mountain in the snow.  The next picture in this series is going to be the grandma bench-pressing a cart full of people in Siberia.  If I were you, Mr. Idiot-Who-Attacked-a-Grandma, I would run.  She’s coming for you, and she’s got blood in her sights!

HOV Me

Every day when I’m leaving the office to go pick up my spousal unit, I text her to let her know that I’m on the way.  Since the traffic between my office and hers is terrible in both directions at that time of day, I ask her to turn on the HOV, so we can get the discounted rate and zoom past the worst of the traffic.  It takes some time for it to kick in, so I have to get her to turn it on early to use it.

In order to place this request, I have simply resorted to two little words, “HOV me.”  After she turns it on, she sweetly sends back, “You are HOVed!!”  It’s cute, and it’s ours, and I love it.

The Kick That Saved His Life

If you don’t think that God’s plan for your life is always in action, even when it seems that things are going wrong, then take a look at Ryan O’Connor, an Irish jockey working in Australia last year.  He was kicked in the back by his horse Karlakee Miss.  The kick itself didn’t appear to do too much damage.  But later in the day, he started complaining of back pain, so he decided to go to the hospital and get it checked out.  While they were running tests, they found out he had an aggressive form of testicular cancer.  He had a three-and-a-half-inch tumor, which required multiple surgeries and chemotherapy to treat.  He was finally given the all-clear earlier this year.

I don’t know too many of us that would willingly get kicked by a horse.  But in this case, getting kicked by a horse actually saved this man’s life.  Apparently, he hadn’t been feeling “right” for some time, but shrugged it off as nothing major.  Sometimes, I guess we need a good swift kick to wake us up…in this case literally.  But it definitely helps you see the silver lining to bad situations.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”  Jeremiah 29:11

Who knew those “plans” included getting kicked by a horse?!

The Peacock

My entire world was shattered today when I found out that the bird that I’ve always known as a peacock is not in fact a peacock.  It’s actually called a peafowl.  The peacock and peahen are the male and female specimens of the peafowl, respectively.  I’m blown away by this revelation.  I feel as if my entire life has been a lie.  And it took my sister to reveal it to me...also a disturbing fact considering that she will now hang it over my head that she was right, and I was wrong.  When I really think about it, perhaps this is actually what I’m upset about after all!

The Couch

Yesterday, we went shopping for couches, which is something that we have been attempting to purchase unsuccessfully for years.  After 3 hours, my wife was so fed up with the process, that she impulsively bought the very next couch that I said was passable.  Unfortunately, it ended up being an extremely expensive purchase, so after the sales lady walked away, my wife said that she hoped that I enjoy my Christmas gift.  I quickly exclaimed that we needed to back that roller coaster up one minute.  How is it that somehow my wife got a new laptop for Christmas, courtesy of Black Friday, and I get the couches that everyone in the house gets to use?!

Well that ain’t happening.  If it’s my gift, then nobody else gets to sit on it!  I want free rein to sit in any seat I want any time I want.  If someone wants to park their tuches on MY couch, then I’m going to charge them rent by the hour.  I’m going to develop a webpage where they can sign up and enter their credit card information, so they can automatically be billed.  And there won’t be any proration either.  Any part of an hour is charged the whole hour!  I figured that my couch tariff should net me enough money to afford a laptop of my own next year.

With an Audience of One

Deke Duncan, a DJ from Hertfordshire, England is getting a one-hour radio special this Christmas.  Why is that so significant, you might be wondering?  Well, for 44 years, Deke Duncan (his real name is Eric Thorp) has been running a “pirate” radio station out of his garden shed.  He set up Radio 77 in 1974 to fulfill his life-long passion of being a DJ; however, due to licensing restrictions, he was only able to broadcast to his own property.  So, he set up a speaker in his house and broadcast to an audience of one…his faithful wife, Teresa.

He was featured in a TV story on the program “Nationwide” in 1974 as the DJ with the smallest audience in the country.  In the story, Deke is shown complaining that “the station’s entire audience has decided to go down to the shops.”  The clip also shows his wife cleaning and going about her day, as the radio plays in the background.  At one point, Deke sends a shout-out to his number one fan.

A couple of months ago, the BBC’s Archive service dug up the clip and reposted it on Twitter, and the response prompted journalists at the BBC Three Counties Radio to track Deke down.  They found him still broadcasting from the garden shed to his wife (now his second wife, Pamela).  He never gave up on his dream over the last 44 years.  The radio show invited Deke to join them on air where they announced that they were giving him a one-hour Christmas special.  He gladly accepted the offer, saying, “For the first time in my life I’m speechless.”

The Crossing Guard

Every day, when I drop my spousal unit off at work, I get stopped at the crosswalk while various medical staff make their way across the street.  It’s not enough that the crosswalk is some 25-30 feet wide or that they have a gigantic sign telling you to “Yield to Pedestrians in the Crosswalk.”  Nope, they have a crossing guard too.  Rain or shine, cold or hot, some poor parking attendant stands out there for three hours every morning telling cars when they need to stop or go…as if I would have plowed through the throng of people otherwise.

One day, I actually saw the blessing of the crossing guard.  This kind-hearted woman stopped traffic on both sides, when there were absolutely zero people waiting to cross the street.  At first, I was annoyed, but then a solitary squirrel, who had been waiting patiently on the sidewalk, tentatively scampered across the street as the guard coaxed him with a “come on.”  Having come into many life-defining encounters with squirrels over the years, I was instantly grateful for this crossing guard and for the squirrel who was courteous enough to use the crosswalk.

Christmas Roulette

My spousal unit and I each ordered Christmas gifts this year from Amazon, using my wife’s Prime account to get the free shipping.  However, we forgot to put some indicator on the outside label to tell which ones are hers and which ones are mine.  This became blatantly apparent when the packages started to arrive in their non-descript brown boxes and white plastic packages…all with my wife’s lovely name adorning the outside.  So, we have now begun a game of Christmas roulette, as we try to tell what vaguely might be in the package, simply by squeezing and shaking it.  Ultimately, we just have to take a chance and open it, and hope that it’s not our own Christmas surprise from the other person.  With each package like the last loaded chamber of a six shooter, as we shakily draw the knife along the tape.  And each success is a breath of sweet relief, as we guess correctly.

Thanksgiving with Strangers

One year, a Massachusetts man found himself alone for Thanksgiving.  His parents were getting divorced, and he decided that he’d be better off without the drama.  But he hated to eat alone, so he put an ad in the local newspaper calling for twelve other people with nowhere to go for Thanksgiving.  The ad promised a free hot meal, and all they had to do was reply.

Scott Macaulay had Thanksgiving dinner with strangers that year, and he’s been doing it ever since.  For 33 years, he’s been providing a place for people to go who otherwise would have been alone.  He doesn’t turn anyone away, so his guest list can range from 30 to over well 100 people.  He buys and personally prepares all of the food, which is a lofty challenge on the salary for a vacuum repairman.  But he willingly does it every year, because he loves the social interaction and loves to give back.  He even brings in homey touches to make the church where he hosts the dinner a little “warmer.”  Items like art, rugs, and even fireplaces.

“I think each of us are called to brighten a corner where we are and if everybody took care of their neighbor in their own neighborhood we’d have a much better world,” Macaulay said.  “Someday, maybe nobody will call me up and say they’re coming for Thanksgiving dinner, and I’ll be really happy that everybody’s got a place to go.”

Roots

Today, we returned back to College Station for the first time since we left some ten years ago.  We came down for the Texas Renaissance Festival and decided to visit our old stomping grounds for nostalgia’s sake.  We were shocked at how much everything had changed in ten years.  I mean we didn’t really expect it to stay exactly the same, but wow!  While the road names were familiar, the landmarks were all different; the development and improvement were astonishing.  The city has definitely grown and progressed.

After setting up camp at the Calvary Court hotel, we decided to take a drive around town.  I’m ashamed to say that we got lost several times and had to pull over to figure out where we were.  Eventually, I started to get my bearings again and could point out things that looked vaguely familiar, but nothing was quite the way I remembered it.  We spent an hour just driving around reminiscing about what we did here or there and finally ended up at T.Jin China Diner for dinner.  Even time couldn’t erase the memory of the best chicken and broccoli I have ever eaten!

We got it to go, because the restaurant was crowded, and headed back to the hotel to eat.  Which is when we encountered our next problem.  There was no proper table to eat on.  My spousal unit was just going to try to juggle all of her boxes in her lap, but I like to be creative.  So, I pulled out the ironing board and raised it to half height to make a makeshift table in front of the couch.  I am proud to say that it worked perfectly.  With some rags from the bathroom for towels and a Hallmark movie on the TV, we had a nice cozy dinner together.

We get to visit with some old friends tomorrow, and our visit will be complete.  I wish we had more time to roam around campus or take in a football game.  I have missed the culture and spirit of Aggieland.  But that will have to wait until another trip.

Carbon – Part 2

Over eight years ago, I wrote a post about carbon.  I surmised in that post that if we’re all made up of carbon, then every time we breathe out, we’re actually breathing pieces of ourselves into the world.  And every time we breathe in, we’re breathing in pieces of others into ourselves.  Which means we’re all connected, apart of each other. 

People are unintentionally affecting me without me even knowing it.  They are giving me pieces of themselves, and I am keeping them with me.  I am taking them in and making them apart of who I am.  They are subtly changing me from the inside out.  Obviously, the more time I spend with a person, the more pieces they are giving me.  Thus, they are making a bigger impact than say someone on the other side of the world.  So, just by breathing the same air, people are literally leaving a carbon footprint on my heart.  Some footprints are darker, deeper; others are vague, barely there.

Everyone makes an impact on you.  They can’t help it.  It’s chemical.  It’s carbon.

Do Something

A man was watching the news one night, and he was saddened and appalled that story after story was about something bad; forest fires, child abandonment, homeless men freezing to death, people starving in Africa.  So, he prayed and asked God why He didn’t do something about all of this.  Why didn’t he give aid to the people affected by the fires?  Why didn’t he find a home for the children who had lost their parents?  Why didn’t he provide shelter and clothing to the men freezing on the streets?  Why didn’t he provide food to the people starving across the world?

And God answered the man’s prayer.  He simply said, “I did do something.  I created you.”

Most of us sit around and expect some miracle to cure the ails of the world.  We say, “Somebody should do something about that.”  But if everyone expects someone else to take care of it, then nobody is taking care of it.  God could easily wave His hand and fix everything, but instead He created us with the means and ability to affect the world around us.  I don’t know about you, but I know that I have lived selfishly long enough.  I have been blessed, and I feel a longing in my spirit to bless others too.  I’m going to take one step and see where God leads me from there.

Noah’s Ark

Noah’s ark is a famous story from the Bible where God asked a man to build a gigantic boat to house his family and two of every kind of animal to save them from a worldwide flood.  Scholars have debated the logistics of such an undertaking for hundreds of years.  While the Bible goes into great detail about the dimensions of the boat, it says absolutely nothing about the truly important questions.  Like did Noah lock up the chickens in pens or did he let them roam free?  Cage or cage-free eggs?  Or would they be free-range?  You see what I mean?!

Assuming that he let them out at least part of the time in those forty days, then how did he keep the tigers from eating them?  I’m not sure what he had brought to feed the tigers, but I’m sure after a few days of going vegetarian that seeing that chicken strut by all cockily (pun intended) would be very tempting to his natural instincts.  Logistically, I guess all of the animals could have been in pens, and Noah and his family could have taken them out one-by-one to get exercise to reduce temptation.  But I like to think that everyone was just roaming free about the boat, and they just KNEW not to eat each other.  I mean the God of the universe was running the show, so I like to believe that he suppressed their natural instincts until they’d had a chance to repopulate the Earth again.

Dessert First

My spousal unit and I went out to eat today to celebrate our 3^rd 15^th wedding anniversary.  By the time we finally got our food, we were starving, so we dug in like we hadn’t seen a meal in years.  It seems like the entire meal was still sliding down my throat by the time the first piece hit my stomach.  So, of course, I didn’t realize that I was already full halfway through…until it was too late.  By the time the last piece hit my stomach, I let out an audible groan.  I had to unbutton my pants just to keep from slouching in my chair.  I was miserable.  I looked across the table to see my spousal unit in the exact same state.

As we drove home, I told her that it was a shame that I had eaten so much, because I really wanted dessert.  To which my spousal unit replied, “Well, you don’t have to be hungry to eat dessert.  It doesn’t really have calories or fill you up.  That’s why a lot of people eat it first.”  Spoken like a true dessert connoisseur.  I am not sure that I agree with her logic, but I like where her head was going!

Incompatibility Test

A few months back, my friend and his wife were having marital problems, so they went to a counselor for help.  The first thing the counselor did was to give them a capability test to see where they aligned and where they needed some work.  It had questions like “How many children would you like to have?” or “If you received some money for your birthday, what would you do with it?” or “Do you get along well with your in-laws?”  He asked them to answer honestly, so that the process could work, and they went away to take the test.

After the counselor had tallied up the results, he brought them back together and said, “Well, I have some good news and some bad news, which would you like first?” 

My friend said, “Let’s start with the bad news.” 

The counselor replied, “Okay, well the bad news is that I have never seen a couple score lower on this compatibility test.  In fact, you actually got the lowest possible score that you can get.” 

My friend and his wife were squirming in their chairs at this news, and my friend asked, “Well, what’s the good news then?” 

The counselor leaned back in his chair and said, “You can only go up from here.  The good Lord knows that you can’t possibly go down!”

The Candy Bowl

Since I have a new office for my new position, I put a candy bowl out to tempt people when they come to visit me.  Truth be told, I put it out to tempt people to come to visit me in my office.  It seems I have become a thing to avoid unless they need something, so few people come just to talk and see how I’m doing.

Unfortunately, the candy bowl idea has backfired as most people claim that they are on a diet or don’t eat chocolate.  In fact, the person that has eaten most of the candy is yours truly.  However, I think it should be noted that I only eat the 3 Musketeers, because they’re so light and fluffy that it’s like I’m eating diet chocolate!

Drunk Wasps on a Stinging Rampage

My friend recently sent me this article about wasps in Britain that seek out fermented fruit and wind up getting drunk.  According to the article, wasps are apparently not happy drunks, and they end up getting more irritable than normal.  They have started attacking anything within their line of sight in a drunk, stinging rampage.  Experts believe that the wasps built unusually large nests this year, and the larvae are now all grown up and hungry.  They have started hanging out around restaurants and pubs, looking for anything sugary.  Not so unlike myself, wasps apparently can’t handle their booze, and they get fighty.  Probably not an unusual occurrence around pubs in Britain, but the usual louts are more verbal and less stick-a-painful-sharp-stinger-in-you-and-inject-you-with-poison.  Unfortunately, there isn’t anything that can be done about the intoxicated wasps.  People just have to wait it out until the weather changes, and it gets cooler.

http://www.mandatory.com/fun/1459441-drunk-wasps-stinging-rampages-like-partying-hard

Lead Dog

I was watching one of those wildly-colorful and all-too-busy truck commercials today, and one of the things the narrator said stuck with me.  He said, “If you’re not the lead dog, then the scenery never changes.”  I know that they were trying to imply that this particular truck company was leading the charge on innovation and technological advances, but the turn of phrase was interesting.  I immediately thought of the literal meaning, and a dogsled team came to mind.  All those dogs in the back only looking at the behind of the dog in front of them.  And the only one that can see things change is the one in front.

The imagery made me think about so many applications.  About how we often find ourselves stuck in a routine where the scenery is always the same.  About how we rush through life only focused on chasing the person who has more than us or the fictitious person that we think we need to be.  About how we all think we need to be lead dog, because that is the only place where it’s good.

But my question is why can’t the dogs in the back look around?  Why can they only look forward?  Why can’t they take time to enjoy the passing scenery too?  Why can’t we take time to enjoy things as they happen instead of rushing through them?  Why can’t we be content where we are?  Because I bet you that the people in front of us are no happier than we are.  They are still looking ahead to the next conquest, the next person.  So, why would we want to be them?  Why do we assume that their life is so much better off?

I’m not the lead dog.  I don’t really think that I ever want to be the lead dog.  But I can take time to enjoy each moment, each day.  I can take time to look to the side.  I can take time to feel the snow under my feet, the wind in my face, and the heat in my muscles.  I can enjoy the smells and the sounds.  And I can enjoy the companionship of the other dogs I’m running with.  I’d rather have a pack than be a lone wolf.

Frog Legs & Pregnant Yoga

I called my mom today to check on her, and when she answered the phone, her voice was a bit croaky.  I asked her if she was okay, and she replied that she woke up sounding like she had swallowed a frog.  Being the man I am, I of course asked her why she had done that.  Adding, “What had the frog ever done to you?!”  My mom being equally witty, replied, “I really just wanted his legs, but he wouldn’t give them up, so I swallowed all of him!”

We got to chatting about the weather getting cooler and how much nicer it is to go outside and exercise.  My mom is still trying to get out and play tennis with her friend JG as often as possible, while I am trying to get back into running more frequently.  She asked if my wife had been able to exercise and what she was allowed to do with her pregnancy.  Walking mostly.  But I had seen that they actually have pregnant yoga classes, so that might be a possibility.  My mom told me that JG had been looking to get into yoga as well, and although he has the body for pregnant yoga, she didn’t think they’d let him join!

I really love my mom, and I cherish these fun, witty conversations with her.  I usually call her from the car, and they may only last 45 minutes to an hour, but it’s a great way to end my days.

The Tree That Owns Itself

The Tree That Owns Itself is a white oak tree, located at the corner of South Finley and Dearing Streets in Athens, Georgia.  According to legend, it has legal ownership of itself and the land within eight feet of its base.  The earliest-known telling of the tree’s story was found in an article from August 12, 1890 in the Athens Weekly Banner titled “Deeded to Itself.”  The article explains that the tree was located on the property of Colonel William Henry Jackson.  He was so fond of the tree and the childhood memories that he’d had with it, that in order to protect it, he deeded ownership of the tree and the surrounding land to itself.

Regardless of whether this deed has any legal standing, the public has come to accept it, and the tree has become a local landmark.  Technically, the entity receiving the property must have the legal and physical capacity to receive it, which puts in question whether a tree can legally own itself.  However, the tree’s plot is not actually contained within any of the surrounding property and is, in fact, part of the right of way along Finley Street.  Thus, the residents of the city maintain and care for it.

The tree was thought to have been over 100 years old when it received ownership of itself.  Unfortunately, in 1942 the original tree fell during a violent windstorm that ravaged much of northern Georgia.  However, several people had cultivated trees from its acorns, and one of these was chosen to transplant to the site.  The tree that currently exists on the spot is known as the Son of the Tree That Owns Itself.  A small weathered plaque also sits on the spot, and it reads:

For and in consideration of the great love I bear this tree and the great desire I have for its protection for all time, I convey entire possession of itself and all land within eight feet of the tree on all sides.

William H. Jackson

Birds on a Wire

Have you ever been sitting at a stoplight in the evening and noticed birds sitting on the wires and poles in every direction?  Have you ever taken the time to really look at them?  Because if you did, you’d notice that birds truly understand the concept of personal space.  Each one is spaced almost exactly the same distance apart from each other.  You will rarely find them touching, unless the population of birds outnumbers the available wire space.  But what is truly amazing is what happens when a new bird flies onto the wire.  It doesn’t just fly to the middle of the open space, it will land and then parallel park into an equidistant space from the bird next to it, so that it can leave room for another bird.

So, the question is why do birds do this.  What are they trying to achieve by sitting in these seemingly random, regular patterns?  Well, Brazilian composer Jarbas Agnelli had the same question when he saw a picture of birds sitting on electric wires.  But the answer he had was that they looked like notes on a sheet of music.  So, he decided to turn their pattern into music and listen to the song of nature.  I’ll never be able to look at birds on a wire the same again.  Here’s the link, if you’d like to check it out:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LoM4ZZJ2UrM

The One

My wife always tells people that she knew I was the one the first moment that she looked into my eyes.  While that’s definitely romantic, it took me a bit longer to figure it out.  I had just gotten out of an incredible relationship that had ended badly.  My heart was bruised, and trust was in short supply.  So, I wasn’t ready to just jump back in without looking.

A few months after we started officially dating (because we knew each other for months before my wife informed me that we were now officially dating), I got sick.  Really sick.  Stomach virus, food-poisoning sick, throwing up, no energy…sick.  I couldn’t move.  I just lay in my bed and moaned for days.  The only thing I could get down was soup, and it didn’t always stay with me long.  You get the idea.

I was helpless, and I was miserable.  I was definitely not at my best.  And yet, despite this, my wife never left my bedside.  She cared for me.  She fed me.  She cleaned up after me.  She fretted over me.  She even called the doctor to find out if there was anything else she could be doing.  All they said was, “Get him some Sprite.”  But even then, she called someone and asked them to bring it to her, because she didn’t want to leave me for even a moment.

And when I finally got better a few days later, I knew that she was the one.  Anyone that would stay with you and nurse you through something like that, when they had absolutely no obligation to do so, was a keeper.  For better and for worse.  If she loved me even then, then she’d love me through anything.  And that was the stability and certainty that I needed in my life after my last relationship.

So, it may not have been as romantic as my wife’s seeing it in my eyes, but she’s always been the one since that moment.

Blowing a Raspberry

Do you realize that rain and thunder are really just the clouds blowing us all raspberries?  And why is it called “blowing a raspberry” anyway?  A raspberry?  What does that have to do with anything?

The term “raspberry” actually comes from the term “raspberry tart,” which was Cockney rhyming slang for the word “fart,” the sound that is made by blowing a raspberry with the lips.  Cockney rhyming slang was a device used by post-WWII British comedians to get risqué material past the BBC censors.  It is an attempt to replace a socially offensive word with an acceptable word or words that rhyme with the original.  Over time the replacement word becomes adopted by society and essentially becomes a synonym for the original.

Mexican Gollum

I wonder how different The Lord of the Rings would have been if Gollum had been Mexican.  I can picture him with his little pencil moustache and wifebeater shirt, walking up to Frodo and Sam in a body-slanted, rocking motion.

Gollum: “Yo, Frodo, what’s up, ese?  Where you takin’ my precious?”

Sam: “You murdering, filthy good-for-nothing.” [lunging for Gollum]

Gollum: “Whoa, homes, ease up, we’re just talking here, puta!”

Frodo: “Let him go, Sam, he can help us.”

Gollum: “Exactly, pendejo, get up off me.”

Sam: “You can’t seriously be thinking of trusting this slimy piece of crap, can you?”

Frodo: “You know the way to Mexico, don’t you?  You’ve been there before?”

Gollum: “No, not there…you can’t go there…I won’t go back…I won’t let you take the precious there, ese!”

Frodo: “We have to go there, and you’re going to lead us.”

Gollum: “There’s maybe a way.  I know a guy that can sneak you across the border in his truck.  It’ll cost you…a dozen of those lembas thingies.  But truly, ese, it’s not so much the getting into Mexico as the getting back.”

Frodo: “I’m not so sure we’re coming back.”

Effusivize Your Praise

A pastor was once speaking to a man who was having trouble in his marriage, and he asked him, “When was the last time you told your wife that you loved her?”  The man replied, “I told her at our wedding, twenty-five years ago, and she should know I feel the same until I tell her otherwise.”

This is a funny example of what I think we see in this world all too often.  Most people don’t express appreciation, gratitude, and love enough.  My friend BD used to say that where he grew up, the only time you heard anything from your parents or boss was when you screwed up.  If there was silence, then you could assume that you were doing well.  That’s not how we should live.  We should live in a world where we are being built up, where our good deeds and loveable qualities are recognized and acknowledged, where people take more time gushing about what we did right instead of what we did wrong.

We should be telling our spouses, kids, friends, and family that we love and appreciate them…constantly.  And not just in a passing remark, but gushing about it.  We should effusivize our praise.  The word “effusive” means to “show unrestrained emotion or thankfulness,” and that’s how we should be…unrestrained.

Raksha Bandhan – Part 2

Today was the official day for Raksha Bandhan.  I had been looking forward to this for months.  It was special.  It meant a lot to me, and I wanted to give it the utmost respect for what it symbolized.  I wasn’t doing this lightly.  It was a big commitment, that I was taking very seriously.  I am very discerning when it comes to who I pick to be my friends.  I am even more so with family.

I had read that it is customary for the brother to give his sister a gift.  Some people give chocolates.  Others jewelry.  But I wanted to give my new little sister something from my heart.  Something that would express how much this meant to me.  I researched ideas for weeks until the perfect idea hit me.  Typically, the sister ties a rakhi on her brother, but tradition never said it couldn’t go the other way too.  So, I designed and made a bracelet for her.  I made it out of her favorite color (black), and I tied a charm to the middle of it that said simply, “Little Sis.”

HR and I met up at work, neutral territory, with my mom in tow as the official photographer.  Okay, she really just went to enjoy the moment with us, but true to my mom’s nature, she couldn’t help but snap some picture too!  Honestly, there wasn’t much to the ceremony.  I guess I was expecting pageantry and fanfare, but it really was “here’s your gift,” and “here’s your rakhi.”  She made me eat some vegan chocolate, but I’m not so sure that was so much part of the ceremony as I think she just wanted to see me eat vegan chocolate.  Typical little sister!

I’m not sure how my new little sis feels, but my heart has felt heavy all day.  It’s heavy with the weight of responsibility and purpose.  There is now a new member of the herd to take care of.  And no matter what happens between us or how much distance wedges us apart, that will never change.  She is forever my little sister.

Botanical High Fives

I like to go for walks and give high-fives to the trees as I pass by.  I imagine their soft leaves like fingers scraping against my skin as our hands pull apart.  If there are trees on both sides, then I alternate hands and imagine I’m a sports star running onto the field or court through a tunnel of fans and teammates, congratulating me as I go.

It’s amazing how much more connected you can feel to the world around you when you not only see it as alive and interactive, but also encouraging and supportive.  It’s like you have friends everywhere, just waiting to reach out to slap your hand.  It’s hard to be upset or down in the dumps when even the trees are giving you high fives!

Just Show a Little Respect

Around my wife’s workplace, there is a large congregation of homeless men.  They stand on the street corners near the freeway and beg for money.  I used to feel sympathy for such people, but that faded long ago.  You hear stories about people offering them food, clothing, or employment; and the homeless men turn it down, because what they really want is cash.  One can only surmise that they want it for alcohol or drugs.  Maybe not all, but most.

So, now I just feel sad that men would be so lazy or so chained to addiction that they would choose to stand on a corner and beg, sleep under an overpass, and wear clothes that are so dirty that the original color can’t be determined anymore.  But they are still human, and they deserve at least that courtesy and respect.  There is no reason to treat them badly.  Ignore them if you must, but don’t treat them badly.

I was sitting at a stoplight one day, waiting to turn, and one of the homeless men started crossing the street.  He was dirty, unshaven, and his skin was leathery and tanned.  His head constantly twitched like he couldn’t stop his neurons from firing, and he was bone skinny.  He was in the crosswalk and had the “Walk” sign, so by all accounts he had the right-of-way.  But for some reason, the car next to me started edging up on him, getting closer and closer, like it wanted to run him over.  The homeless guy flicked them off and swore at them, but never stopped walking.

When he started to cross in front of me, he looked straight into my window, scowling defiantly, daring me to do the same.  Our eyes met, and I nodded to him.  His entire face broke into a smile, and he nodded back.  That’s all it took.  Just showed him a little respect, and it changed his entire demeanor.  And at that moment, I didn’t pity the homeless man, I pitied the driver of that other car.

It Takes Two

Since I have been carpooling with my wife, we have been leaving the house later than when I drove myself.  I’ll leave you to extrapolate why that is.  But the inevitable consequence of leaving later is that you hit the seemingly-random, not-really-so-random sine wave of traffic.  For example, if we leave the house at 7:00 a.m., we’ll hit really bad traffic.  If we leave at 7:07 a.m., it’s virtually nothing.  If we leave at 7:15 a.m., we’ll hit really bad traffic.

Apparently, the majority of people can only leave at regular 15-minute intervals throughout the hour.  I’m not sure if this is because they are that OCD or because the controlling voice in their head requires precision.  Either way, it’s strange.  I, for one, leave the house when I’m ready.  That could be, and usually is, at any random time between 6:47 a.m. and 8:53 a.m.

To avoid the unfathomable masses of cars on the freeways, we have taken to driving in the Express Lane.  Yes, it costs money, but it is totally worth zooming by all of those stopped cars and shaving 35-60 minutes off our drive.  The only annoyance being when some truck gets in the Express Lane and decides that 55 mph is an acceptable speed for himself and the 32 cars backed up behind him.  Even then, we’re still moving.

The Express Lane has a different price for regular use versus HOV use.  For those of you unfamiliar, HOV is when you have two or more people in the car.  And this got me to thinking.  Why do they call it “HOV”?  I know it stands for “High-Occupancy Vehicle,” but doesn’t that sound a bit stuffy and scientific?  Why not make it more catchy?  Something that zings…something that grabs people’s attention and makes them smile.  Why don’t we call it, “It Takes Two”?  It means the same thing, and it can conjure music in someone’s head.  Maybe Marvin Gaye or Tina Turner…or if you’re like myself…Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock!

Out of Control

I realized today why we have to be so diligent about staying on top of the dishes.  Apparently, dishes are like plants.  Once they get wet and get a little sunlight, they will grow and multiply.  I washed the dishes this morning and loaded the dishwasher, but it wasn’t quite full yet, so I didn’t start it.  Later, we had a meal together, just the two of us, and when I went to put my plate in the sink, it was completely full!  Not only that, but there were dishes on both counters next to the sink!

I opened the dishwasher and looked inside, but there were same number of dishes from that morning.  So, I concluded that dishes need water and light.  The ones in the dishwasher were in the dark, so they couldn’t multiply, but the ones left in the sink were in full sunlight all day.  This means that we’ll have to be much more diligent about staying on top of the dishes and getting them into the dishwasher faster, so they don’t take over the kitchen.

Trial by Fire

I walked into the office yesterday to find someone sitting in my new office.  It was the manager of the new team that moved into our area.  He had been angling for that office even before they moved downstairs, and I guess he just decided that possession was nine-tenths of the law.

Granted, I hadn’t had a chance to clean it up and move my stuff in yet, but still!  The audacity.  The inconsiderateness.  I was outraged.  I was furious.  My blood was boiling under my skin.  But I decided to just sit down at my desk and get on the meeting that I had.  I kept telling myself during the meeting that I’d give him the benefit of the doubt.  I’d give him until after the meeting to prove me wrong.  He didn’t.  In fact, it just got worse.

Right after my meeting started, he called his team of two into the office and conducted a team meeting in there.  On top of that, the manager’s boss came by and started giving him high fives and taking his picture as a show of congratulations for “scoring” the office.  I was so livid, I was shaking.  I was breathing.  I was praying.  I was hardly paying attention to the call I was on.

For an hour, I watched this flagrant violation being tossed in my face…in my team’s face.  Their team meeting broke up just as my call was ending, and his two direct reports left the office and shut the door behind them.  That was the last straw.  I grabbed my cleaning supplies and slowly walked to my office.  I didn’t knock.  I just opened the door.  After all, it was my own office, why should I bother knocking?!  I told the guy that I was moving into the office at that very moment, so he needed to leave.

And this is where the situation went from crossing the line to outright disrespect.  The guy had the audacity and cajones to look at me and say, “It’ll be 30 minutes, because I’m about to get on a customer call.”  I was expecting…well, more hoping…that his being in the office was just a slight error in judgement, and he didn’t realize that it was my office.  A respectful person would have profusely apologized for the oversight, gathered his things, and quickly relocated.  This was not a respectful person.

The old me would have taken being trampled on, agreed to his statement, and slowly backed out of the door to wallow in anger.  The old me.  I am not the old me, and I was pissed.  I told him that he would have to take his call somewhere else, because I was moving in.  My voice was low and menacing.  I didn’t yell.  I wasn’t compassionate or sympathetic.  I was in charge.

He tried to play the disgusted card, whining that this call was with a customer and couldn’t I come back later.  I simply said, “No.  This is the time I have to move in.”  Then, he tried to play the exasperated card, acting like I was being unreasonable and where was he supposed to go. 

All the while, he hadn’t moved.  He was still sitting at my desk with his papers strewn out everywhere, and his continued disregard for me was flipping every switch I had and a few that I wasn’t aware that I had.  That was when I lost my cool, and I said, “Frankly, I don’t care.  You can find a conference room, or how about this, you can take it at your desk.  Either way, you need to leave, so I can clean my office.”

At this point, he let out a huge huff, gathered his papers, and scuffled off to a conference room to have his call.  On the way out of the door, he looked back and said, “You know, your name isn’t on this office.  How would anyone know it was yours?”  That was an unnecessary parting shot, so the very first thing I did was to go peel the name tag off of my old desk and stick it to the window right beside the door.  Then, I proceeded to clean and organize my office.

This incident didn’t just affect me.  It apparently affected everyone on the team.  Some were outraged just like I was.  Others were waiting to see what I would do.  At the time, I didn’t realize that they viewed this as a test.  They had had their doubts as to whether I was ready to lead the team, and this would give them their first glimpse to prove myself.  I passed with flying colors. 

I was told later by one of them that he knew at that moment that I wasn’t going to be walked over anymore.  That office was a symbol of the team, and just like I fought for it, I was someone that was going to fight for the team.  I wasn’t going to be cowed by someone with more time in the company.  I wasn’t going to be intimidated by title or seniority.  I belonged.  I was ready.

Where the Heart Is

I was watching an interesting movie today called Where the Heart Is, starring Natalie Portman.  It follows the life of a pregnant woman who is abandoned by her boyfriend in a little town in Oklahoma.  She is forced to secretly live in the Wal-Mart to get by, and eventually ends up giving birth to her daughter in the store one night.  The peculiarity of her story makes its way into the news, and she suddenly finds herself an instant celebrity.

Fame is short-lived, and she is soon forgotten.  But with the help of some great friends in the town, she slowly rebuilds her life, raises her daughter, and falls in love with the town librarian.  The librarian, Forney, is particularly fond of her little daughter, Americus, and he spends quite a bit of time playing and talking with her.  One of their conversations had me in stitches at it’s innocence and simplicity.  But also, in Forney’s willingness to communicate at the little four-year old’s level.

Americus: “If you feed a cow chocolate, will you get chocolate milk?”

Forney: “Yes.  And if you spin a cow around really fast, you’ll get whipped cream.”