Tuesday, January 31, 2006

a hopeful america, a better way, or a healthy helping of horse manure? you make the call.

just finished watching the state of the union. here are a few observations:

i believe i just watched the president kiss governor kathleen blanco of louisiana. how can he be so cavalier? i hope he has had a recent tetanus booster.

the highlight of the event was when the camera was panning the audience and paused on john mccain.

speaking of the audience...what a bunch of duplicitous blow-hards. I can look at very few of these people without getting the immediate feeling that the said person is acting interested while secretly figuring new ways to screw me over.

I read that the president had his speech ready days before hand. it was set in stone and ready to go...no changes necessary. the pretense is that this administration is very organized and prepared. my impression is that this tactic displays the implacable nature of this president. "my course is set, and no external event can alter me from my chosen path." it is not encouraging to know that he won't be swayed be developing events.

oh yeah...he told us some of the same old news...received with thunderous applause. go figure.

the democratic response just finished. they're full of crap, too. thanks, but no thanks tim kaine.

he's cooler than you are

my son is 5 years old, and i am becoming increasingly aware of the fact that he is not receiving an authentic kindergarten experience. this is the latest event to convince me of his departure from the norm:

yesterday, i spent the whole day volunteering in the library. charlotte was very busy and she had need of my help. after school was over, jackson asked if he could play with his friends for a while before he and i had to go. we were in no hurry, so i said it was fine. rather than walk out to the playground, i followed him to the front of the school where the sixth grade boys sit on picnic tables while waiting for their parents. jackson walked over and, to choruses of "jackson! what's up, man?"; he high fived most of the boys.

he went on to tell everyone it was time to play tag, set the rules, and change the rules mid-game to ensure his success. when it was time for us to go, he again made his rounds, and we hit he road.

of course, he benefits from having his very cool mom teach at the school. he also has a sixth-grade reading buddy who is very nice. but, he is not afraid to play with kids 6 years older than him. so, thank you michael, tat, chi, bat, matthew, and devin for playing with my kid and helping him to feel like the coolest kindergartener in the history of aisd.

Friday, January 27, 2006

i got your magic flute right here!

although today is the 250th anniversary of his birth, i will not ruminate on my admiration for wolfgang amadeus mozart. i did that a couple of months ago on the 214th annivesary of his death. look back if you'd like. suffice it to say ,"happy birthday wolfy."

what do you TINK?

i am running the men's basketball league at my church. when asked to take this responsibility, i accepted with not a speck of reservation. the league only lasts a couple of months, and i have played in dozens of hoop leagues, so i figured, "how hard can this be?" well, the answer is that it is not difficult in the slightest. it requires about 5 hours per week -all continuous- and little else...hanging out in the gym, but when was that ever a chore? creating a schedule for 10 teams turned out to be a bit more trouble than i had anticipated. i had to ensure that each team played every other team in the league, and then, only once. i also didn't want any teams burdened with always playing first, or last. the resulting exercise vaguely resembled su-doku; but, with one obvious difference: there was no answer page to which i could refer.

we are in the fourth week of the league, and everything is running very smoothly. be that as it may, unforeseen situations will always arise which require resolution. everyone looks to me, so i seem to be the final authority (sort of.) one such occasion presented itself last night.

a guy from one particular ward approached me with a question i misunderstood. this ward has a guy named percy playing with them. he is not a member of the church. i thought i was being asked if an investigator of the church could play on the team. i replied that in my opinion, this is one of the chief benefits of a church basketball league - to create relationships between the men of the church and those who have become estranged from the general membership or are investigating the possibility of conversion to the faith. after all, my parents joined the church after many experiences with lds athletic programs. this inquisitor must have been quite puzzled by my answer because he was asking me if the full-time missionaries could play on their team if an investigator would also be playing.

when i finally understood the question, i didn't have a clue what the answer was. i finally told the missionaries that if their playing would be allowed by the policies of their mission president then i saw nothing to prevent them. i was a little surprised to hear them answer in the affirmative.

it would have been folly to bother to ask my mission president the same. i have no doubt that president washburn would have answered negatively before i even got the question fully out of my mouth. first of all, the game didn't begin until 9:00, and i think missionaries are meant to be home by 9:00. secondly, missionaries need not be in any situation where bad feelings of contention could arise. anyone who has played church league basketball will readily testify that contention is in abundance at these games. i don't really need to mention the position that missionaries have more important things to do than play hoop in a league. it wasn't my place to say, but it seemed weird. i let them play.

now i'm not saying these guys tried to lead me astray. even if they did, i forgive them. if some kids want to play ball that badly; well, that much i can understand. i might have done the same.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

the pathos less traveled

the past few weekends we have been visiting charlotte's dad. he has lymphomic leukemia; and although he has been doing really well for the past 7 or 8 years, he is currently very ill. this is my first experience with md anderson cancer center in houston. i have always heard that they are the premier oncology experts in the world, and i hope this is the case. charles seems to be feeling better even if his kidneys are still not functioning and he isn't really getting better...yet.

sitting in the hospital for hours on end gives much time for reflection; and even as a visitor, i have had some time to remember and consider life.

on 13 august, 2004, i was involved in a fire. i was burned over half of my body, and spent a week at brook army medical center in san antonio. fortunately, we live very close to this world-renowned burn facility. fortunate for me because they are the best, and unless you really know where to look, and for what; most people would not be able to recognize any differences in my skin. it really is amazing. spending a week in the hospital is pretty grueling. the boredom is rampant and the onset of depression is a real thing. even though i was only there for a week, and i knew i was soon to return home; even i began to feel these harrowing effects. anger is also a symptom common to long-term patients. the literature and talk concerning the warning signs and remedies for these phenomena are ubiquitous on certain floors of all hospitals.

one week after returning home (i spent almost all of that week in bed, also) my 15-year-old dog, zazu died in her sleep. it was a depressing day. i began the day pretty excited as it was my first day to leave the house. i was walking out to take jackson to school when i found zazu lying in the spot in which she had died overnight. after calling charlotte, and dropping j-man at school; i came home and began to dig a grave for my friend. remember, i had just recently gotten out of the burn center, and i was forbidden to get any direct sunlight on my body. in the hottest part of the summer, i was out digging a huge hole in jeans, a long-sleeve turtle-neck, gloves, and a bucket hat. the heat, coupled with my having been on my back for two weeks was exhausting. what should have been a difficult task was made infuriating due to my fatigue, over-heating, and nausea. i loved her, so i kept going until i was finished.

the very next morning, charlotte and i returned to brook for a checkup at the hospital. on our way there, we got the message that my sister-in-law had taken a horrific fall and was critically injured. it seemed impossible for us to believe that anything fatal could have occurred, so we decided some facts must have been misrepresented. they were not. during my examination, charlotte received the phone call telling us that rhonda was dying. it seemed surreal that while these physicians were analyzing my skin's recovery, and attempting to predict the degree of permanent scarring i would have, i was completely disinterested in what they were telling me. we hurried them through the appointment; but, we didn't make it back to austin until after rhonda had died. her injuries were massive, and i hate that the last time i saw her, she didn't look like anyone i had ever before met.

those two weeks taught me a lesson that many before me have learned much sooner than i did: life is fragile, and no one can know when it will end. freak accidents, long term illness, and old age are strangers that pass us every day. often we don't notice them, because we are so focused on the trivial matters of life that we make into urgent action items. often we don't notice them because they are not yet ready to reveal themselves to us. there is no avoiding the introduction that awaits us, there is only preparation for the reception.

i know too many people who pass up opportunities to experience fun, or newness, or excitement. they hoard their time and money and emotions as if they were items which can wish to be unused. i wish this were not the case. i have always been a person to enjoy spontaneity and levity; but the events of last summer reminded me that living is more than just working, paying bills, and going to crappy parties you wanted to skip. now, we skip them. i have other things i'd like to do. things i'd like to do with my family, and what few friends i have.

one of the things i hope jackson takes with him into his life is his memory of the fun we had together - doing things that were extraordinary, seeing places that were beautiful and exceptional, and laughing and having fun though it all. the knowledge i have and the experiences we have together are the only really lasting things that he can take from us when he goes off to live his life. i hope i give him enough to fill his mind with illumination. i am sure going to try.

Monday, January 16, 2006

haystack calhoun


being a 7th generation hays county resident, i can't help but exhibit redneck tendencies on occasion. as the saying goes - you can lead a hayseed to town, but you can't make him drink.

saturday night we found ourselves in hillbilly heaven. here's how it all began:

four years ago, we spent christmas at the lodge at cloudcroft, new mexico. it is a beautiful place you should visit if ever you have the chance. santa claus presented jackson with a present and it snowed every day we were there. we had a great time. one of the stocking-stuffers in jackson's stocking was a diecast model of a monster truck named reptoid. we knew nothing about monster trucks; charlotte just thought the toy looked cool, thus beginning an obsession previously unknown to our little boy. what began as an impulse buy has evolved into a collection numbering well over 100.

as it turns out, monster trucks and their tour are a very big business. videos, books, and live events are widely available. speed channel airs a television show called "monster jam" weekdays at 5. they show highlights from the past weeks on tour. jackson hates to miss it. his favorite (and the obvious favorite truck on the tour) is grave digger, driven by dennis anderson.

saturday night we went to the alamodome for a live monster jam. this is the third year we have gone to this event. although we began this "tradition" for jackson's benefit, i would be a bit dishonest if i didn't admit that charlotte and i have a good time, too. this year was particularly exciting for him because, for the first time, dennis anderson was in san antonio to drive his truck. we have seen grave digger before; but on those occasions, pablo huffaker was behind the wheel. jackson likes pablo alot, but dennis anderson is a legend.

prior to the start of the show, the trucks are parked on the floor of the alamodome; and, the ticket-holding public is invited to see the trucks up close, and get autographs from and photographs with the drivers. you don't need to be told that we were among the masses of zealots. the longest line was the one that ended in front of dennis anderson and the grave digger. i'm glad we got there early, because the line stretched the entire length of the arena, and then some. that's over 120 yards of redneck. as it turned out, we only had to wait a little over an hour. i guess it was worth it, as jackson was elated. dennis even bent down and talked to jackson for a minute.

for my 5 year-old boy, this is as good as it gets.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

where heaven and the hills greet each other warmly from a distance.

today i spent some time in wimberley. although we live only 7 or 8 miles from town, our normal travels take us into san marcos. dad and i played golf at woodcreek; and after, i charted a meandering path out of town. here are a few thoughts and observations i experienced.

woodcreek is a landfill in the making. places i fondly recall, are dilapidated, unrecognizably remodeled, or just gone. most all of the once popular tennis courts are unplayable. the ones beyond the lodge are now a parking lot, and the ones on the other side of the creek from the pro shop are now a building materials storage site. shoot, there's not even a bridge spanning the creek any longer. the main courts near the lodge look to be in fair condition, but no where near what they once were. speaking of the lodge, it appears to be abandoned. no one comes up from houston to spend the weekend. certainly, no one is using the air field. the restaurant has served its last meal of questionable origin. the arcade and snack bar - where i used to blow my paycheck - are locked and dusty. the pool is drained. sorry brian...no more job. the cement that once was graced by the lovely robin wylie, is now a towel and cocoa butter-free zone. somewhere along the way, the marina closed. not only are the paddle boats and canoes gone, but so is all sign of life. i wonder if kids still jump off the cliffs or swim over to the island to lay out in the summer sun? something tells me "no." the pool at the pro shop is a cart barn; and of course, the stables closed 20 years ago. i believe the whole of the property is for sale to the next sucker in need of a tax-break. then again, who could possibly need a loss that big?


i miss the low-water bridge. it was one of the only free, public swimming holes in wimberley. i remember when i finally got up the nerve to swim through the tunnel created by the space between the bridge supports and the river bottom. immediately, i started to act as if i had been doing it for years. it is odd to me that in a town with a river and a creek running through its borders, i can not think of a public park with water access. besides, if you got desperate, the bridge was a good place to bathe. at least, i saw a few people doing just that; so i just assumed.

i prefer the burger barn as it used to be. with damn good food and picnic benches outside. you used to have to order from the window and sit outside until they called out your name. that was cool. the guys who used to eat inside scared me a little. it's not because they looked mean; but, there were only 5 or 6 tables and i figured they'd never let some little kid take a table while they were on lunch break. i only ate in there a couple of times. it's not the same now.

i prefer the dinner bell to the cypress creek cafe. don't look now, but the creek is on the other side of the square.

i choose poor boys/country boys over the brookshire brothers. there used to be a cool bike track behind poor boys, and you could lay in the aisle and read mad magazine.

i like no stop lights, two lanes over the creek, shotgun shells below the dairy queen sign, a flaming christmas tree on the square, and the corral being the biggest thing in town.

and i hear the elementary is going to be closed and turned into administration offices. that can't be a good thing.

i remember 3 groups of people living in wimberley when i was a kid...cedar choppers, retired people, and middle class families like ours. their populations probably numbered in that order. today at lunch, i finally felt at ease because these were the people surrounding me...bubba and lester, mildred and henry, and mom and daughter. thank you for bringing me back home, if only for a day.

Monday, January 09, 2006

ain't i grand?


on monday mornings, i am the parent reader for jackson's kindergarten class. all of the other parent readers are bi-weekly in their duties; but, being the over-zealous first-time parent, i signed up for a weekly assignment. as i'm already at the school, anyway (to volunteer in my wife's library) , i figured i might as well ingratiate myself with all the kindergarteners.

one great thing about being married to a librarian is that she knows every book out there. think meg ryan in "you've got mail." that's my wife. when time comes for the reading hour, she will be sure to give me some good suggestions for apt material; or often enough, just pick something out for me and tell me "the kids will love it." she's always right.

for some reason, i have had "little black sambo" on my mind lately. for a book i first discovered over 30 years ago, this little masterpiece has real staying power. innocently written by an anglo mother for her two children; "little black sambo" has become a lightening rod for the cry of "racism" over the past few decades. to be sure, "sambo" was a pejorative remark dating to the 17th century, the illustrations were caricatures of black and african stereotypes, and african americans grew to hate the conventional images portrayed in this piece of work. what a shame. it is a charming story about a clever little boy from a mythical land who outwits some tigers in an effort to keep his clothes, and save his life. written in the day that it was, any resemblance to perceived stereotypes or prejudices was not only ignored, it was certainly not even recognized by the caucasian family for whom it was written.

the book i read today is a re-telling of this famous tale published under the title "sam and the tigers." it is basically the same story, but written with some creative differences. no one is named sambo, or mumbo, or jumbo. nobody is drawn to look like aunt jemima or any one else in the jemima clan. the story is a little more in-depth, has a "unity in nature" theme, and the whole community is involved in the celebration of sam's triumph. fortunately, the new author stays close enough to the original to leave most of the charm i've always loved in this story.

the new book is written in the dialect of the uncle remus stories. these stories are hard to find, because they are percieved to be racist in concept,as they ridicule the speech patterns of the working poor blacks of the south. replacing one perceived cultural inequity with another is an interesting course to pursue. i can't figure it out.

of course, the greater question to arise is : what elements of our heritage will completely survive the cultural guillotine that is political correctness? re-writing of history has begun to creep into school texts and controversial works of literature are constantly challenged, re-written, or censored. there are moments in the history of man (and the u.s.a.) that are regrettable at best...deplorable in other circumstances. to delete these failures in right-thinking from our history is to close our minds to the lessons learned through the struggle to raise our species above the places previously inhabited. to lump too many works into the category of "failure" is to diminish our ability to explore the differences that make us who we are.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

FO, FO, FO

in order to get ready for, travel to, and make preparations for my seminary class; i awaken at 5:00 every weekday morning. this is a far cry from my innate preferences, but i am making the sacrifice, and it has proven to be a fair trade...until this week.

tuesday night, i stayed up until well past 1:00 am to watch the finish of the triple-overtime orange bowl featuring penn state and florida state.

last night, i stayed up until after 1:30 watching espn's continuing coverage of their post-game analysis following texas' national championship win over the trojans of southern california. analysis provided in superlatives and ultimatums makes my face hurt, but i couldn't help myself.

it is currently 12:15, and i'm in final preparations for hay-hitting. looks like 4 1/2 hours tonight.

with a little bit of lee-way given; this week should be recognized as my personal tribute to moses malone.

if i don't get 8 or more tomorrow, there will be consequences and repercussions.

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

off the hook

in an unbelieveable turn of events, the texas longhorns have just won the national championship in football. surely you will easily conjure memories of their most recent championship prior to this...a hint: nixon was the president, and i was not yet 1 year old. for a program of such victorious history and financial gluttony, the span of 36 years is an enigma.

let us all thank our lucky stars that vince young is the quarterback at ut; and (recent heisman trophy voting results notwithstanding) that he is the most outstanding, creative, elusive, resolute, and un-tackle-able man in the world of collegiate football.

let us attempt to thank next year's lucky stars (pre-emptive strike,) which may cause him to stay in school for his senior season. make no mistake, he won this game...not single handedly, but as close to that qualification as is possible in a sport like football. in a game of unbelievable talent, he clearly demostrated the the largest amount of talent is currently living in a dorm in austin,texas. it has been fun to watch.

here's hoping i won't have to wait until i'm 72 to see this again.

hook 'em horns

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

we're number what?


i am glad to be a longhorn fan.

i'm watching florida state play right now. they are #22 in the country. even if they beat penn state tonight, they have little hope of rising above 17, or 16 in the final polls. nevertheless, their fans celebrate a good play with the traditional "we're number one" hand gesture. self-delusion is funny.

as a longhorn fan, i can "put my horns up" regardless of the situation. sure, it looks stupid; but at least i don't have to pretend our status is higher than it actually is. down here, we save that kind of thinking for the pre-season hype.

how deep is the ocean, how paranoid am i?

according to the oxford american dictionary, a phobia is an extreme or irrational fear of or aversion to something. i think i am passing on one of mine to my son.

for as long as i can remember, i have had an aversion to public bathrooms. i can't go in there without a sense of disgust. no matter how clean the place may appear, my skin will be crawling for the duration of my visit. forget about any activity that might require sitting down; i have to be in a desperate situation for that to seem a viable option. my main goal upon entering a public restroom is to avoid touching anything with my bare skin. flushing the toilet? i use the bottom of my shoe. open the door? a paper towel will work just fine, thank you. a faucet is o.k. because i've already got soap on my fingers. it's amazing how happy i get when the door swings out, so i only need kick it open with my foot instead of pull it towards me.

as soon as jackson was old enough to walk into the restroom with me, our mantra has been ,"don't touch anything." i used to have him stand next to the wall (without touching it,) his hands on his chest, while he waited for me. now that he is older, and aware of his surroundings, he has taken it upon himself to remind me of the need to keep our hands to ourselves. i know, it's sad what i'm doing to this poor kid.

i have a real conundrum going when it is time to leave the facility. if it doesn't appear to be a WELL maintained restroom, and no sitting was involved, we vacillate over whether or not we should risk washing our hands. there are surely, more germs on the hand-washing apparatus than on my person, but it seems wrong to leave a bathroom without washing. still, sometimes it doesn't feel like the right thing to do. thank goodness for purell and other anti-bacterial liquids my wife keeps in her purse at all times. you make take this attitude to be grossly unhealthy and cavalier. my answer is that i simply choose not too urinate on my hands. of course, if sitting was involved; hands must be washed, and we make the best of the sink situation.

don't even get me started with those air-blowing hand driers. you wash your hands, and get them clean. although the place smells repulsive, you decide to dry your hands with that stinky air, which is being blown through a machine and warmed. if the room is foul smelling, what you are smelling are microscopic particles of the substance creating the smell. you just had a machine blow those particles all over your body. i think i may throw up just from thinking about doing this. i recently read a tale of a lady who allows her daughter to invert the nozzle of the blower in order to blow the air in her face and hair. is this cause for calling the authorities? there is not enough lysol in the world.

on a recent road trip, we made quite a few restroom stops. unfortunately, we found some of the most nauseating facilities in the southern united states. jackson coined a new phrase for these monuments to filth. he refers to a foul bathroom as being one that is "pooped out." i can't think of a more apt description.

intentionally, most of our stops were at truck stops. you may be thinking, "truckers are dirty. why would you deliberately stop where they congregate?" on the contrary. they may not be the most hygienic of individuals, but the restroom in a truck stop is usually extremely clean. see for yourself. no need to thank me for the advice.