Coach Rick

Rocky Mountain High

2011-07-27T08:44:00.000-07:00

I think John Denver and Rob Bell would have been great friends. I came to this conclusion during my reading this morning. I was out on my balcony in Vail, reading while watching a rushing stream about 50 yards from my unit. The trees were close enough to hug, if I were so inclined. The sound of the stream was muted somewhat by the sounds of the traffic on I-70 less than 100 yards away. So I thought of John Denver--the things he loved so close to the things he hated.

My reading for the day turned out to be one of those "coincidences" in that it was along an environmental theme. Bell was talking about creation, how God would create something, call it "good" and then give it the power to recreate itself. For example, when he saw that fish were good, he didn't create more fish, he gave fish the means to reproduce themselves. Then he created man, and gave man dominion over the earth, which in Bell's interpretation included the charge to take this "good" thing and make it better. Then he penned the line that stopped me and became the subject of this post : "That's why litter and pollution are spiritual issues."

It was awhile before I read on. I looked out at the stream and realized I hadn't seen an empty beer can or a sandwich wrapper floating along. My thoughts went back to age 6, when we were visiting family in Illinois. On the drive, litter was commonly a foot deep along the side of the road. We got to Illinois and I was excited about going swimming in Lake Michigan. Except that we couldn't even get into the water because there were literally millions of dead fish floating at the shoreline and as far out as we could see. One of the things that amazed me on our family trip to Chicago in 1989 was the beach was as pristine as one would hope it to be. This is not about who was responsible for the cleanup, but that it has taken place. And Denver and Bell would say we are coming closer to doing the job that God gave us to do in Eden.

Why is litter a spiritual issue? In its purist interpretation, I suppose you could say that anything that makes the planet less beautiful is subverting the intent that God had in creation. It's a man saying that his comfort is more important than taking care of God's creation, that the job we have been given to make the planet better isn't worth his time. Even more so, it is showing a disregard for others that God has commanded us to love and make better. The fish that eats the metal thrown into the water and dies. The man that is paid to clean up after us. I have heard people callously say that they are helping people employed by making them clean up after them. Then I was reminded of yesterday when we checked out of our villa in Park City and we had about 4 bags of trash and the dumpsters were 4 floors away. I said to Jan, "Housekeeping's going to be here anyway." Shame on me. (One of the things that was amazing about attending a baseball game in Montreal was that the fans threw away their own trash, not leaving it under their seat for the custodians after!) I suppose if we truly took our responsibilities to heart, hotel housekeeping staffs would never have to do anything but laundry. But in casually tossing away our trash, we are in effect being selfish, expecting others to do what we should do for ourselves, and we know how God feels about selfishness.

Pollution to me is all of the above taken from the individual to the corporate level. It's the pursuit of profit above all, regardless of the means necessary to get there. So we had burning eyes from smog in '60s Los Angeles, companies dumping their waste in the middle of large bodies of water, etc. Largely because they have been forced by legislation, companies now are more accountable for correcting those behaviors.

Now, I don't belong to the Sierra Club, I'm not a vegan, and you will never see me chaining myself to an oak tree marked for cutting. But I will also never toss my can out my car window even if I'm in the middle of the desert with no other cars for miles. I honestly believe we are closer than we were 50 years ago, to becoming the kind of people God intended for us to be.

So I don't long for the good old days. To me they mean a highway with litter piled on the sides. The better new days mean I can enjoy a litter-free mountain stream during my morning read. The good old days meant dead fish in the lake. the better new days mean a pollution-free beach. If I may expand, the good old days meant breathing other people's smoke in public places or workplaces. Finally in the good old days, an African American woman couldn't ride in the front of the bus. In the better new days, an African American woman is the First Lady.

And I promise to work on the whole throwing away my own trash at the ballgame thing.

Think I'll go with John Denver for the closing. In this Rocky Mountain setting, I wish to live out my life so that people can say, "he walks in quiet solitude, the forests and the streams, SEEKING GRACE IN EVERY STEP HE TAKES."

Thoughts on a Churchless Sunday Morning

2011-07-24T09:35:00.000-07:00

We are on vacation in Park City, thus our normal Sunday church activities are obviously unavailable to us. I brought Rob Bell's "Velvet Elvis" along with me and, as sometimes happens, a phrase leaped off the page at me this morning. I've always known grace is available to all, but I don't think I've ever heard it expressed the way it way this morning. (Disclaimer #1, I may have heard it before and wasn't in a position to process it the way I did this morning. Disclaimer #2 I ran it by Jan and she wasn't impressed, and she's usually a pretty good sounding board for these things. So feel free to stop reading now.)

Anyway, here's the phrase: "Hell is full of forgiven people God loves, whom Jesus died for." I've always known that God loves all, and Jesus died for all, but somehow the concept that people in Hell are forgiven had never occurred to me. I think most evangelicals have been taught God's forgiveness needs to be asked for and accepted. But pre-conversion forgiveness? That's a new one to me, but it makes sense, for a number of reasons.

First of all, I've always been told and taught that forgiveness needs to take place even if the "offender" doesn't ask for it, even if they are unaware they have wronged me. It's for my benefit that I don't hold on to that hurt and let it turn into bitterness. Forgiveness of others is an important command of Christ, and it doesn't come with the condition that it needs to be requested. So, if that is the standard for us, it makes sense that God has the same standard for Himself. The Bible says Jesus died, "Once for all," which means that all forgiveness for all time took place at that moment.

Secondly, if you think of Christ's words on the cross, "Father, forgive them...", he was at the moment referring to his murderers, who obviously didn't believe they were doing anything that needed to be forgiven. But they were forgiven at that moment, whether they wanted to be or not.

Thirdly, that forgiveness obviously applies to me and to you. One of the sticky things about switching churches is that we switched to a church that was pretty much at the other end of the spectrum in many theological positions. I remember the pastor at our orientation saying, "you've been forgiven for every sin you've committed and every sin you WILL commit." I struggled with that, and asked him about it later. He said it wasn't a blank check to continue sinning, but rather that the provision for any future transgressions was already there. (I suspect Rob Bell's quote wouldn't be that much of a shock for him).

In context of the entire chapter, the quote has even more meaning than can be discussed here, but it was an "aha" moment for me. As I said, we've been brought up to believe that part of the salvation process is asking for forgiveness, and then accepting that forgiveness. This can be a stumbling block for the person that says, "God can never forgive all of the things I've done." Before, I would say something inane like, "Sure he can, he wants to." Now I am going to say, "He already has." I think that was the "it is finished" part on the cross. That may not be a big change in your eyes (or my wife's evidently) but it is a paradigm shift for me.

So,even though I am 1000 miles away from Huntington Beach today, FCC had a big part in my going to church today. The teaching from day one has been about the marvelous grace that is available to all, and how easy it is to accept. Rob Bell was unknown to me until we started there, and his books were recommended by my friend Don (don't get all that much out of his videos). I love my church.

Of Yvette, Jan and Rick (not me)

2011-07-17T11:20:00.000-07:00

Rob Bell tells a story of a young lady named Yvette who came up to him after church one day and told him she disagreed with everything he said and wanted to stand up in her chair during the messages and yell at him. His response: "I immediately liked her." She went on to say she was studying witchcraft and was totally opposed to his entire message. (I know a lot of churches where she would have immediately been escorted from the property). He said, "But you keep coming back," and told her that he hoped she would continue to do so. A few weeks later was the Sunday after the 9/11 attacks, and he preached on the need to forgive and let go of the hatred when people have wronged us. After, he saw Yvette face down on the floor sobbing. She later told him she had been raped years ago and had been carrying around that bitterness and anger and it controlled her entire life. She turned it over to the One who had suffered far more than her. A few months later she handed him a sheet of paper with her contact info on it. Whene he asked why, she started telling stories of witches she had been meeting who now wanted to become Christians, and if I met any, to send them to her.

That's a great story, and I'm using it to justify my claim on the story I'm about to tell. For Rob Bell said "I claim Yvette's story, for Yvette's story is our story and our story is God's story. Faith is a communal experience."

So I'm going to tell you about Jan and Rick (not me). Jan is adopted. A few years ago, through a series of miraculous "coincidences" the Aunt who arranged her adoption found her. We have since met with Aunt Glennis and Aunt Alice and have had conversations with one of Jan's nephews. Jan's mother had three other children, all boys, and two of them have passed away. The third, Rick, is about 18 months younger than Jan, and has basically been out of touch with the family since about 1984. He didn't know he had a sister, and the aunts gave us little hope of finding him. That's where my son Tim came into the picture. Tim has recently gotten really involved in ancestry exploration, and has traced all of our families back hundreds of years.

Now, Tim has had not much use for the institutional church for quite some time, causing his dad quite a bit of soul-searching, but as I get older I realize that Tim's heart is more Christ-like than most of the Christians I know. And this was never more true than in his search for the lost sheep that was his Uncle Rick. In hindsight, I think that was his ulterior purpose in digging into his ancestry. The search has gone on for about 3 years. Finally a couple of weeks ago, he told us he had found a couple of possible addresses for Rick (Trowbridge last name), and was going to write him a letter with our contact information.

Three days ago, Jan was at the dentist and I was home alone when the phone rang. The caller asked for Tim, and when I said Tim didn't live her, he finally got around to saying, "This is Rick Trowbridge." We talked for awhile and he promised to call back later in the evening. I immediately called Tim with the news, and to say he was excited would be a gross understatement. His next facebook post referred to shaking hands and pacing the floor. When queried, his response was simple: "I found my Mom's brother." There were some personal reasons for his quest, but I believe his main reason was that he knew how happy it would make his mother.

When Jan got home, I said it was too bad she hadn't been home, because then she could have taken the call from her brother. She immediately dropped all the mail on the floor, doubled over and began sobbing. She could have been the poster child for tearss of joy.

Rick called back and he and Jan talked for almost an hour. He had gotten Tim's letter the night before, had no idea he even had a sister, was somewhat miffed at Aunt Glennis for never telling him, but mainly it was evident that he was as joyful at having a sister as Jan was at finally talking to her brother.

We went to the movies yesterday, and a voice mail from Rick was waiting for us, the underlying message being, "I want to talk to you again." So Jan called and they spent another 45 minutes or so getting to know each other. His life has been as tragic as Jan's has been blessed, but my wife plans to do whatever she can to make sure the rest of their lives are spent as a family.

That is a great story. And, as Rob Bell did with Yvette, I'm making it my story. It's really Jan's story, Tim's story and Rick Trowbridge's story, but I can't imagine any of them being any more joyful than I am. The brother that was lost has been found. And we're having a banquet in our hearts.

A Cindertiller Weekend

2011-06-27T09:05:00.000-07:00

I will never be a fan of dance, and it's probably too late in life to develop an appreciation. But I am (no shock to those who have to listen to me ramble about them) a fan of my grandchildren. And THEY are fans of dance. This past weekend they had their annual recital at Long Beach State, and I set a new personal record by attending 3 of their performances. Each show is about 40 dances, and the girls are in about 3 of those 40. So the in-between is excruciating for me. I am actually beginning to be able to tell the difference between a gifted dancer and the non-gifted one (guess which category my girls are in!), and I'm trying to develop an appreciation, especially since the more times I go, the more dancers I recognize from previous shows and it's kind of fun to watch them grow up.

For example, one thing I notice is that periodically the audience breaks into applause in the middle of a performance. As I analyzed, this usually occurred whenever a dancer was standing on one leg and going in circles. And it seemed like during the course of the weekend, every time I woke up there was a dancer on one leg going in circles. So I began to applaud, by myself. No one joined me. So it must be some special kind of one-legged twirling, like a triple toe loop or double axle or something. But I'm trying. I actually think that only two or three people begin the applause and the rest of the crowd joins in to make people think they know what they are watching.

My first show was Saturday at 1 pm. One of the reasons Jen scheduled me for that hour was that the rest of the day was filled with a Tustin High School runners reunion (hence the "tillers" part of the title of this blog). The theme was "A Day at Disneyland," which did nothing to improve my mood! However, since a few years of these events have taught me what to expect, I had my game face on and was ready to do battle without complaining. Jolie was in a dance in what looked like the Cinderella segment, and also a Pocohantas dance, and Jeslyn was in a 10 Little Indians dance (and, yes, there were 9 other girls). So, Jolie comes out for her first dance, and the music begins, sounding vaguely familiar. Lo and behold it is Stephen Curtis Chapman's "Dance With Cinderella," which as my friend Curtis pointed out is the "Dad Kryptonite" song. If you don't know it, it's about a little girl who asks her daddy to dance with her, starting with an imaginary ball and ending up practicing to dance at her wedding. The first time I heard it was a few years ago when I was, ironically, in the parking lot at HAD waiting to pick up the girls. Jen called me and told me to switch my radio to a particular station, which was playing the song. Given the song's effect on me, I'm glad I wasn't parked. Let's just say that when the girls got in the car their first words were, "Grampa why are you crying?" So that's the real reason Jen got me tix for this show. I'm so thankful that I have a daughter that loves her husband and kids dearly and still goes out of her way to make her Daddy happy.

Jolie's next dance was to "Colors of the Wind" from Pocohantas. Again, I enjoyed it because of her presence. Also, those of you Tustin staffers who may read this will probably remember an infamous inservice when the presenter suddenly broke into this song. So, hopefully, Jolie's performance will help erase that memory.

Jeslyn's performance in 10 Little Indians was as bright and energetic as she is, and even included some one-legged stuff. One of her fellow dancers was Rachel LeTourneau from our church.

Another great thing about the day was that Tim and Anne and Sophie joined us, and we had gone to lunch and then we had a great time of discussion/fellowship on the way home. Again, I am grateful for two grown children who have made good partner choices, and who still love to spend time with Mom and Dad.

Off to Louise's house for the THS runners reunion. There were about 15 of us and it was a great time. Saw Tom Coffey who I coached and taught with for many years, and most of the runners there were from the small window during which I coached cross country. (I love running almost as much as I love dance!) Great fellowship, but even greater were the times when I was able to spend some one-on-one with those who are still so special to me almost 30 years after they were a daily part of my life.

Great sermon Sunday morning. Two takeaways from Bruce's message: "One of these days is none of these days," meaning decide what you want/need to do and then don't put it off, and "My everyday life is not determined by decisions the government makes." I've been preaching that to my doomsday friends throughout this administration and it's nice to have my brilliant pastor agree with me.

Off to the one pm performance on Sunday. In addition to our girls, the recital included the debut of two little ones from our church, Lolly and Roxy Brookhyser. I love the little ones, especially when I have some connection to them, perhaps filling in for the one thing I miss from our previous church--children's programs at Christmas and Easter. Jolie was in a group dance from Mulan and was a card in a queen of hearts Alice in Wonderland dance. Jeslyn was a flamingo with 2 other little girls and a boy. My girls, of course,were great, but my limited dance knowledge/appreciation put it into the "same dance, different costume," category. But it appears to me that in the technical skill and "performance sass" category, my grandgirls are ready for high school dance teams, if those programs still exist when they get there.

The last show on Sunday night is reserved for the girls who are taking private lessons, and most of the dances are solos or duets. I told Jan after that it seems that for most of the older girls, they had chosen "Music to open your veins by." But this program had 3 highlights for me. Jolie was flawless in her solo as a doll come to life. Then the girls performed their dance from "Chicago" called "I just can't do it alone." I had seen it twice before but it was the first time for Jeff and the girls really wanted to surprise him with it. And each performance they got better. It was also special because Jeslyn was the youngest performer in this evening session.

I had thought on Saturday that it would be great to have "Cinderella" done with the dads, and that's what happened Sunday night. Two younger girls came out with their dads, danced on the verses and then their dads picked them up and danced with them on the choruses. My optic faucets opened up again.

The final number was a troupe number performed by all the girls who had been demonstrators for the young ones during the year, and Jolie was part of that.

Then the girls sat down, and they started showing pics on the wall of the girls through the years, including 4 of Jolie. Then the graduating girls were given flowers and a good cry was had by all. I found myself thinking, "this is just list a basketball banquet." It was a time to come together and reflect on the hard work for sure, but even more for the bonded relationships that were forged during the process. For these girls (I might mention there were also 2 boys who were very skilled) dance is every bit as much a part of their growth and life as basketball and baseball were to me and the kids I coached. It was a very special time, and I'm glad I was there. I'm sure the parents of the seniors were thinking, "It's over, already?"

So, really, the entire weekend was tied together. There was the enjoyment of my grandchildren at this stage of their life, the enjoyment of my children at this stage of their life, the enjoyment of my surrogate children in the runner's reunion, the realization that no government decision influenced the events of my weekend, and ultimately life is reduced to relationships. So I found myself thinking of a song that fits the theme of the weekend, sort of...from Jefferson Airplane, who sang "White Rabbit" which is from "Alice in Wonderland," sort of, which was a Disney movie.
"Don't you want somebody to love, don't you need somebody to love? Wouldn't you love somebody to love? You'd better find somebody to love!"

Schooling (with) Grampa

2011-06-18T10:14:00.000-07:00

Both of my grandchildren are brilliant (they get that from BOTH sides of the family). They love dancing. That's pretty much where the similarity ends. Jolie is compliant and a pleaser the great majority of the time. So much so that I have to resist the urge to automatically take her side in any disagreement. She just got straight A's again on her final 5th grade report card. Jeslyn's second grade card was all "very good" or "outstanding", which represents a tremendous deal of growth on her part. I'm proud of both of them, love them to death, and feel so fortunate that they live so close, knowing a lot of my contemporaries don't have that luxury.

But (you knew there would be a "but"), Jes spends a lot of her time saying, "I'm sorry," either because we make her do so or she realizes she has crossed the line. Today was one of those times, and I'm realizing it's so much harder for me to be consistent with her than I was with Jen or Tim. They had a sleepover last night and were absolutely perfect. Got up this morning, entertained themselves until we got up, and it was time to go to breakfast. Jan and Jen had decided to meet at 9 at Corner Bakery, to turn over the girls so Jen could take them with her to help at Dream Dinners. Jeslyn, "I just went to Corner Bakery yesterday." Mom and Jan decided that a local diner, Papa Z's would work out best for timing and location. Jeslyn: "I'm not going to Papa Z's," and bullied her way into a trip to Coco's. This while planning what time Grampa would take her swimming when Dream Dinners was over. I decided it would be best if I didn't accompany them to Coco's and decided to ride my bike instead. Past Coco's. After a couple of loops, I decided to join them, not wanting to eat but wanting to spend time with them. First words from Jeslyn, "Sorry, Grampa, will you still take me swimming?" About two minutes later she threw a mini-tantrum about the smell of Jan's spinach omelette. I left.

I worked in the shed for awhile, exchanging winter clothing for summer clothing, and the girls arrived to pick up their stuff before heading for dream dinners. Jeslyn had written an apology. I refused to take it. She put it on the bed and said, "Read it." It was, "Sorry Grampa, will you still take me swimming. I'll promise to do better." Jan, to me: "Don't you give in and take her swimming." She also said, "Be mad at her, but don't stop loving her." Like that could ever happen. I also feel guilty NOT accepting her apology, knowing the limitless times God allows me to say, "I'm sorry." I tell her, "Wouldn't it be nice if you behaved in a way that made it not necessary to say you were sorry?" And God whispers, "Would you listen to yourself?!"

So I told her that as of right now, she wasn't going swimming. That I was going to require her to do something to show how badly she wanted to swim. It may be something as simple as writing 50 times, "I do not make the rules, I'm 7." I may make her read this blog (cruel and unusual punishment, I know). Ultimately my job as a grandparent is not to raise her. That's Jen and Jeff's job, and they are great at it. My job is to love her and try to make my correction in line with what they would do. I'm thankful she's not the type of child to say, "Go ahead and tell them, I don't care." The fear of Daddy is a wonderful thing. But it's tough to live with a perfect older sibling. Ask my son.

So off to Dream Dinners. I was thinking Dr. Dobson would have been proud of me for establishing boundaries. And we both would have been vindicated by her parting shot, which also reminded me who really was in charge: She blew me a kiss.

Moiola's Got (some) Talent

2011-06-14T09:17:00.000-07:00

Went to another of my granddaughter's talent shows this week and last, and while I usually publish a tongue-in-cheek review, I won't be reviewing many of the performances this time, in that the programs was at 3 hours and still going when I left. Apparently all one has to do to qualify to perform in the talent show is to fill out an application. And, as I am now a retired teacher, I will take the liberty that many of my friends do, and that's to tell the Principal at Moiola how to run her school.

First of all, as I said, anyone who says they have a talent "tries out" for the final show. We saw the tryouts, and everyone who tried out appeared to have made the show. This included things like a young man dressed in camo who waved a stick in the air and eventually was "killed" by an intruder who was unarmed. Who knew that when we played army as kids we were exhibiting a talent? Two young ladies sang a song that I think was entitled "Across the Universe." I realized the title was actually a metaphor for the distance between their performance and perfect pitch. Three girls got into sleeping bags and their moms threw stuffed animals at them from behind the curtain. That was it. I can imagine them saying, "When I grow up I want to be a target." Or at least work there. It suddenly dawned on me that the reason that we have so many talentless people trying out for American Idol is that their elementary school didn't have the courage to tell them they had no talent.

The program also did something that I thought was impossible: It made me appreciate "Dancing with the Stars." Not for the dancing, of course, but for the fact that the dances have a time limit. One boy, who was very talented, did a break dance to a song that had to be six minutes long. Yes, he was good, yet the kids enjoyed it, but 6 minutes? My reason for this is very personal. First of all, I came to see my granddaughters perform, as I'm sure did many others (their grandchildren, not mine, though I suppose the word has gotten out about my grandchildren by now). The program started at 9 and my girls finally got on about 11:15. Fortunately, I had the time. My son in law did not. He had to get back to cover a final and did not get to watch the girls, neither Jolie's singing or Jolie and Jeslyn's dance, which they had prepared as a surprise for Daddy. Jennifer even went up and asked if the girls could be moved up, but no dice. And, of course, her video camera went belly up in the middle of the girls' dance--I think even a new camera would have died of old age waiting for the performance.

The girls' turns finally came, and for me at least I'm glad I stayed. Jolie sang Taylor Swift's "Love Story" and nailed it even better than she did last week when her voice teacher was there to watch (thanks, Chelsea). Almost all of the other "singers" just did a lip sync to the actual performance, which made Jolie's stand-alone even better, in my unbiased opinion. Then the girls danced a routine to "I Can't Do This Alone," (that's close enough) from "Chicago." So well done, and so sorry dad missed it. They are doing it again at their recital in a couple of weeks, but I know they really wanted to surprise him Monday.

OK, pity party done. I can understand the philosophy of letting everyone experience performing in front of a group, and the reluctance to tell people "you weren't good enough." I wouldn't want to be the one to tell a 5-year-old that nobody really wants to see him balance a big feather on his hand for 4 minutes. (I think I would have been able to tell the trio of girls who danced to Rocky Horror's "Let's Do the Time Warp Again," that performing hip thrusts in front of a bunch of jr hi boys was not a good idea). The Special Olympics has shown us the value of rewarding everyone who participates. So I get that. I'm sure the kids don't mind because a 3-hour performance is 3 hours out of class. So, in my ideal talent show, I probably couldn't tell someone they had no talent, either. So here's what I'd do (I'm sure you were dying to see this).

1) Define categories. What is talent, and more importantly, what isn't. I don't think it's a talent for some 7th grade boys to dunk a basketball into a 4-foot basket. (Tho it was kind of entertaining to watch the kid in the Celtics jersey keep missing at that height. Art imitates life.).

2) Limit the length. Most kids would have the technological capacity to edit out a verse or chorus of a song. Say you can only read 2 of your poems, not 7. Under current "guidelines" a kid could haul up a TV and an x-box and subject us to watching him play a role-playing game for 2 hours. It's definitely a talent, but out of place in this setting.

3) Give the parents a clue when their child (or grandchild) will perform. Even if was just "before recess" or "after recess" would have helped Jeff schedule differently. When I sing in church and friends come to watch (It could happen!), it's good to be able to give them an approximate time so they can either come watch or come up with a credible excuse. The way it's done now almost makes it seem like the show is for the kids' benefits, not ours. How selfish is that?

Every good sermon has 3 points, so I'll stop there.

Joplin Thoughts

2011-06-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

My friend Don started blogging again after a two year break. I thought I had gone as long but I realized I wrote a blog after my Mom died last September. Don't know if I'll go another 9 months, but let's see if I remember how to do this.

I got a call a couple of weeks ago from Curtis, who is on our pastoral staff, to see if I was interested in helping drive a load of supplies to Joplin to help with earthquake. After considering for about a minute, I called back and said I was in. We left the Tuesday morning after Memorial Day, about 5 am, with a 26-foot u-haul loaded with supplies that The Bridge in Joplin said they needed. The Bridge is an outreach ministry in Joplin that focuses on junior highers, but had become the HQ for FEMA and the Red Cross, among others, in the city.

Our first day included paying $4.89 a gallon for gas in Needles, then seeing a Love's truck stop about 15 miles into Arizona for about $3.69; lunch at Cracker Barrel in Kingman--one of the best reasons for leaving the state of California; 3 more gas stops, a snack at subway, a lightning show as we entered New Mexico, and finally stopping about 1 am mountain time in Tucumcari, NM. Along with me, there was Curtis Templeton and John Bayhi, and we all got to know each other a lot better and in some cases, more than we needed to know! I now know that Curtis likes Wendy's as much as I do, tho I go for the chili and he goes for the frosties.

After about a 6 hour respite in Tucumcari, we headed out Wednesday morning for what turned out to be the remaining 10-hour drive to Joplin. Our driving shift was basically a tank of gas, and we all drove 3 shifts on the way out. the plan was to drop our supplies, drive the truck back to Tulsa, and fly out on Friday. By the time we got to Joplin it was too late to drop off supplies until the next day, so we drove into town to find our quarters for the night at Ozark Christian College. We were met there by our outreach pastor Mike Ferrulli, who had flown in that day with his wife Danielle. On our way we got our first breath-sapping view of the damage wrought by what turned out to be the first category 5 tornado in modern times. It comes upon you so suddenly as you crest a hill headed into downtown. I brilliantly forgot my camera, but quite a few pictures have been posted on the church's website and facebook page, so just go to FCCHB.com if you want to see them. Roughly a mile wide section of the downtown and residential areas had disappeared. We were there 10 days after the twister, and all they had basically been able to do was clear the streets. We were told not to bring water because they didn't need any, and as we drove down Main street there were pallets of water stacked on just about every block.

To say the accomodations at OCC were spartan would be generous. There were dorm bunks, no bedding, and they really didn't have accomodations for Danielle. We resigned ourselves to rough it there for one night, left the truck there and headed back downtown in the van that Mike had rented in Kansas City. We began driving through the destroyed neighborhoods. John and Curtis had their cameras working feverishly, and we made quite a few stops. I honestly don't remember much, because it was just more than my aging mind could comprehend. But here's what I do remember.

There was a police and military presence, because events like this always bring out the parasites who prey on the misfortune of others. Rather than dodge the officials, the guys went up and made friends with them. Once they realized we were there to help and not help ourselves, they opened up and allowed us to take pictures to show the folks back home why their help was needed. Houses had spray painted signs like "together we will overcome", "God saved us," and "room for rent, nothing down"--on a shell of a house. It was about then that the thought came to me that, paraphrasing the old saw about atheists in foxholes, there are no atheists in Joplin. Throughout our short time there, I did not hear one person blame God, whine about poor me, etc. Once again it was shown in Joplin that the church of God flourishes when times are at their worst, probably because it reminds us that we cannot survive in this world without His help.

We came upon a couple and 3 adolescent girls searching thought the ruins of a house in a way that suggested ownership. We stopped and the boys asked if there was any way they could help. It was at this encounter that I realized that they were so perfectly suited for the job they have been given in the church. It turns out the house belonged to one of the girls, who was staying in the home of the couple while he family sought lodging for all of them. They had brought her to see if there was anything she could find that was salvagable. They had no luck while we were there. The couple was from a small storefront church on Main street. the husband had gone back to work after a week, as their pastor had admonished those who still had jobs to go back to work, "because we are going to be taking care of a lot of people for a long time, and so those of you that can need to start earning money again." I didn't hear the man complaining about redistribution of wealth--which of course is what the church is called to do. Contact information was exchanged, and this church will be a starting point for our team that is scheduled to return in July to provide whatever assistance we can in the rebuilding of Joplin.

The couple told one of those stories that inevitably comes out of events like this, one that defies credibility and suggests a God who is active in such times. They had a couple in their church who was on their honeymoon when the storm hit, and came home to find both of their apartments destroyed, along with all of their wedding presents and pictures. They have friends in Springfield 75 miles away. Their wedding pictures wound up landing in the front lawn of their friends in Springfield.

I heard another story about the twister in Oklahoma City. A lady hid in her bathtub from the approaching storm and "the Good Lord" told her to move into the other bathroom. When the storm passed the second bathroom was all that was left standing. the bathtub was in a nearby tree.

Darkness was approaching and the affected area had a 9 pm curfew, so we prepared to pack it in for the night. though it appeared all hotels were booked, Curtis decided to try anyway because we had decided that OCC was not acceptable for the makeup of our group. After about 3 tries, and no one laughing in his face, Curtis was directed to a Baywood Inn and Suites, which was the designated hotel for emergency workers, and thus could not take advance or multiple-day reservations. We had 3 rooms for the night, a free breakfast, and a rested resolve to face the next day.

When we picked up the truck at 9 the next morning and headed to the Bridge, we were told that they were full up and no longer accepting supplies. We were directed across town to a Title Max, which is a company that floats short term loans, usually in exchange for the title to one's car. They had a distribution center setup, but it basically looked like a garage sale, with discarded clothing and shoes and not much else. So they needed and took everything our church had donated. It took the 4 of us about 4 1/2 hours to empty the truck, with Danielle providing unbelievable leadership inside the building to get the material sorted into some kind of organization. While we were there a few families came in for assistance, and it was the best part of the trip to watch them find new bedding, new supplies for their babies, and food to get them through the next few days. Curtis also handed out some prayer shawls our ladies had knitted, and the receiving ladies were incredibly touched. Our main concern at this point was that the word would get out about what was available. About 2, we were bolstered by the arrival of 6 volunteers from a local church. We left them with the task of sorting the supplies that we had only been able to unload from the truck with no recognizable order. Danielle overheard one of them say, "they finally found something for us to do." I was at this time so struck by the realization that in this country of ours, in the face of unimaginable tragedy, they had more supplies than they needed in the short term, and more volunteers than they knew what to do with.

Went to lunch at Billy Sims barbecue, recommended by the locals. Sims was a Heisman Trophy winner at the University of Oklahoma and I think he's a Joplin native. We found a u-haul place that took the truck and allowed us to van back to Tulsa to spend the night and fly home on Friday. We had a great meal in Tulsa and were treated to one of their Thursday summer concerts which is a huge event. The evening's entertainment was by a 60s cover band called "Midlife Crisis." There's a certain closure to that!

So now I'm home. As always, I am struck by the fact that so few in California have Joplin on their mind. We all bought shirts that say "restore Joplin" on the front, and in Missouri and Oklahoma they were automatic conversation starters. I've worn it a couple of times since getting home, and Californians just looked through it. I've decided that the desciption "America's heartland," has a new meaning for me as I think of the people we met in the midwest. there were times where I was just overwhelmed by the enormity of the task, and the belief that these people are up to it. Nearly every working business marquee had words of thanks, resolve, scripture, prayer, and encouragement.

If you want to help, there are all kinds of websites. The restore joplin site sells the t-shirts, with all of the proceeds staying in Joplin to help with the rebirth.

I've rambled a lot and haven't really said anything, I think. But maybe one reader will get the call to help and make a difference. that makes it worth the effort to put the thoughts down on cyberpaper.

Answered Prayer

2010-09-02T06:19:00.000-07:00

Haven't blogged in a couple of months, probably because it's just easier to write a note on facebook and distribute it that way. But thought I would write at least one more, because quite some time ago I blogged about my mother's situation, her failing health, and our prayers that she would be released from this body and this earth.

Well, got a call from the home about 1:45 this morning saying those prayers had finally gotten answered. She passed away in her sleep with apparently no suffering, so that, too was a direct answer to prayer, and I know she's not suffering now. As with any such news, it doesn't matter how much we prayed for this, and how ultimately it is good, when the event finally happens it is a shock and a loss, and I'm hurting a lot more than I expected.

Finally decided to try reaching my sister about an hour later. She is visiting my nephew Jeff in Seattle, and wound up leaving a voice mail. She called right back and we talked for a few minutes. Turns out she normally turns her phone off at night, but for "some reason" had left it on last night. Mom had been treated for a tooth absess (sp?) last month, but otherwise did not appear to be in immediate danger, though Karen said she showed a little less affect every time she visited. I'm feeling a little guilty in that it's been quite a while since I made the trip to see Mom, with travel this summer. We were planning to go sometime this month, but God had other ideas. We probably won't have a service, but will try to get all the grandkids together and have her and Dad's ashes sprinkled somewhere in the mountains.

Left a message for Tim and he called about 5:30. Again, we hadn't seen much of her in the last few years, but it was not an easy conversation for either of us. Still waiting for a call from Jen, and I still think of the essay she wrote in high school about my getting her out of class in 1988 to tell her Dad had died. By the way, Dad would have been 103 two days before Mom died. Wonder if she was aware of that.

So, I'm a 61-year-old orphan. I got to keep my parents a lot longer than many of my childhood friends, and I am happy for that. I'm happy for Mom, too, that she is rid of this body she had come to despise.

I was planning to make a post on Dad's birthday, and wound up forgetting to do that. I was going to send a letter with Mom's share of costs payment this month, and didn't do that, either. Bad son. I want to say one more time that I love (present tense) my Mom and Dad, am thankful that God gave me to them, and that they both lived long enough to enjoy their grandchildren. Jolie and Jeslyn never met Dad, and probably won't remember much of "Grandma GG". But she lived long enough to have moments of joy with them, and I'll always remember 2-year-old Jeslyn helping to feed Mom her eggs when we visited her at the center.

Though I didn't spend much time with her the last couple of years, I'm thankful my sister found Sierra View home in Reedley. If a loved one has to be put into assisted living, I can think of no place better than this one. They all obviously loved my Mom, even when most of her time was spent being cranky! The nurse that called this morning was personally upset, and she said she had been working there when Mom was admitted many years ago.

Jen just called and I broke the news to her, so the hardest part is over. She could tell I was having a hard time, but her "I love you, Daddy," was just what I needed to get through that phone call.

So, a new life for Mom, and a release for me that hasn't quite come yet, but I know that it will. Now with what time I have left I want to continue to be the man that they taught me to be. They loved me, they loved Jan, they loved my kids, and the best part is that I will see them again.

As An Athlete, Getting Old

2010-07-04T19:28:00.000-07:00

I suppose if it were possible to determine such a number, I would be in the upper 25% of men my age as it relates to physical fitness and health. I can still bowl in the 190s rather consistently, can shoot low 90s and occasionally high 80s in golf. My life has pretty much centered around athletics, specifically baseball and basketball, since I was 9 years old. However, at age 61 I am no longer able to do the things I used to do, partly because of deteriorating skills and partly because of limited opportunities. And I find I'm not going gently into that part of my life.

Part of my current problem is due to the fact that I was a pretty good athlete at one time. Baseball paid for a large part of my education, and I enjoyed quite a bit of success. I was able to play competitive fast pitch softball into my 40s, and had a string of about 4 years where I never took a swing and missed the pitch entirely. Haven't swung at a pitch competitively in almost 20 years, but I doubt I could continue that streak at that point. James Michener, in his work "Sports in America," written in the late 70s, devotes a chapter to the athlete past his prime. Some psychologists have noted a trend that boys who are successful athletes in their early years tend to never grow past adolescence--at least socially. There is a great movie with that theme, "Everybody's All American," starring Dennis Quaid, where he is a football player, Heisman trophy winner, who plays well past his prime because he still revels in the glory years. He and his best friend, played by John Goodman, get together at bars and still talk about their Glory Days. I have friends who still talk about specific high school contests whenever we meet for reunions. I'm kind of dealing with that now, because those outlets are no longer available to me. When it comes to physical activity, the greatest joy in my life is still throwing a baseball. The ending scene of Field of Dreams still gets to me, when Kevin Costner gets to play catch with his Dad. I used to be a pretty good outside shooter with a basketball, yet now if I make 2 out of 10 it's a good day. For a long time I was about to vicariously experience the thrill of athletic competition through coaching, and I enjoyed more than my share of success at that. But that fire eventually went out, and I am faced with replacing those joys for the rest of my life.
Which brings us to the main outlet available to me these days--running/walking. Even when I was a good athlete, I hated those things!! Now I try to get out and walk/jog nearly every day, because my sedentary life has also added to my waistline. I played at under 140 pounds in college, and these days I fight to stay under 190. And in addition to not enjoying running, I don't have the gifts for it. I have friends in church who ran their first 5k today, and finished together as a family in 34 minutes. When I was running regularly about 10 years ago, I don't think I could have broken 30 minutes. And, because I'm so competitive, if I can't be good at something, I don't want to do it--that's the adolescent in me, I think. I truly enjoyed competing at a high level, but I also enjoyed talking about it. And I know it's healthy for me to exercise, but that's not why I do it. I do it in hopes of hearing someone say, "Man, you looking goooooooooood!"
I know there is a "runner's high" that serious runners achieve and can't do without. I don't ever expect to experience that high!! But I probably know what it feels like--kind of like when I hit a 2-run single for a walkoff win against LaVerne in college. Or being the only pitcher in the nation to shut out Grand Canyon College in 1970. Or my girls basketball team overcoming a 10-point deficit in the 4th quarter against Ventura to reach the CIF finals in 1992. See, there's that adolescent glory thing again--the one redeeming factor in this is that if you are among my new friends at FCC that's probably the first you've ever heard of those achievements.
So I'm not so much worried about living in the past as much as I am worried about how to continue to try to fill that void in the future. Coaching high school kids isn't much fun any more--they either don't care enough or they think they know more than I do. I don't think I have the patience to coach the little ones. I don't have high school baseball teams knocking down my door to pitch batting practice to them--and I'd probably have to do it from 40 feet instead of 60.
I don't do tennis, weights, ski on any surface. I suppose it would be easier if I found someone else in the same situation and we could be miserable together!!

A Night at the Ballet--again

2010-06-29T11:45:00.000-07:00

Went to the girls annual year-end ballet recital last Saturday and Sunday, so I thought I would share my annual thoughts with you. As the girls get older, they get a little more involved, which makes it easier for this dance-challenged grampa to get through the evening. This year Jeslyn had 3 different dances, tho 2 of them were on Saturday afternoon before the performance I attended. Jolie actually had one of the leading parts. The theme for the evening was “Night at the Museum,” and she was one of the 3 who simulated dancing through the various exhibits at the museum as a bridge between dance numbers.

The Saturday performances were primarily group numbers, and it started with one called Modern Girls. I found nothing to ridicule in this number.

Next was little ones called “Little Romans.” The little ones have a demonstrator and they are to mimic the demonstrator, which helps them remember their routines. This number could probably have been renamed “Little Romans Around the Rosey.”

Then there was “Walk Like an Egyptian,” which made me realize how much I had underestimated the dance skills of Steve Martin, though Jolie and friends did the head-bob very well when they were done.

Then there was “Women of Sparta,” and things began to spice up a little. I kind of expected them to ask for John the Baptist’s head on a platter after their number.

That whole set, by the way, was grouped under the heading “Museum of Ancient Times.” The next set was grouped as “Museum of Natural History.”

The first number was “Jungle Animals” which consisted of about a dozen girls in leopard costumes dancing to Guns 'n' Roses', “Welcome to the Jungle.” The music was great.

Next came Jeslyn’s number. She was dressed as a mermaid for the number “Under the Sea.” I’ve always enjoyed fish doing the bunny hop. There was also a time where Jeslyn was channeling her Uncle Tim, as some of the girls in her group were a little lazy on their spacing. Jeslyn thought that to be egregious enough to stop point out to each girl where they should be dancing, while continuing to dance herself. I must say she pulled it off quite well while managing to ensure that everyone in the audience knew who was really in charge. (We have movies of Tim in church plays mouthing everyone’s lines in addition to his own).

Next was a song called “3 little fishes”—although all 9 of them looked little. They had fish hats and tried to make fish lips. This was also one with a demonstrator, and had the added feature of one little fish who considered herself an echo—her movements were about two measures behind everyone else, as if to say, “if you missed it the first time…”

Then came Jolie’s dance, and again grampa was not quite ready for this. The number was DINO, and my 10-year-old princess came out in a very grownup outfit and performed a very grownup routine that would have made many high school cheer/dance advisors proud. She was on-beat, shaking things I wasn’t ready for her to shake, and loving every minute of it.

There was then 5 toddlers with their parents, “performing” a number called “We are the dinosaurs.” Very cute. Our friend Chelsea did much the same with her daughter Evie last year.

Then the advanced dancers did a number called “Museum Painting” and while dance lovers I’m sure were thrilled, it was formal enough to help me remember why these programs are not at the top of my excitement list.

The “Museum of Modern Music” section included 3 dances that I liked very much. The music was The King’s “Jailhouse Rock,” Billy Joel’s “Still Rock and Roll,” and something called “Smooth Criminal’” which, if it wasn’t Michael Jackson, it should have been. There are only about 3 boys in the program, and two of them were in the Elvis number. I hope if they ever are incarcerated, they wear different uniforms. I just think the ones covered with glitter are going to get them all kinds of unwelcome attention. It was during this segment that I began to notice something I hadn’t paid attention enough to notice before. While everyone in the program could be correctly called a dancer, there are a few that are elevated enough to be called “performers”. It’s not enough for them to remember the dance moves, they are able to express the joy they feel in being in front of the crowd. There was one girl in the MJ number that I fully expected to break out her moonwalk before the number was over.

There was then a number called “Unstoppable,” where we went back to Tutus, and was rather formal, though the choreography reminded me of a Jets-Sharks dance from West Side Story.

Then there was a dance to something that has a formal name I’m sure, but someone of my age and musical taste thinks of it only as Allen Sherman’s, “Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah.” They never got to the “take me home” part, though.

There was a finishing segment that was more formal again, the motif being Monet paintings. Again, I was able to distinguish dancers from performers.

The last demonstrator number was called “flowers” about 10 little girls, one of whom did absolutely nothing. She played with her fingers, she played with her dress. When it was time to go, she was still on stage right when everyone was exiting stage left. Finally the demonstrator came to get her, led her over to the dad who was playing Monet, and the little one performed the most perfect curtsy one could imagine. So, rather than being a misfit, she was obviously a specialist!!

Then one of the dance academy graduates performed the only solo of the night, called “Dying Swan,” which of course we all know was originally created in 1905 by Michel Fokine for Anna Pavlova. Again, with my expertise, the number could have been called, “Stand on your tiptoes for 3 minutes.”

So, at the risk of losing my man card, I can say I kind of enjoyed this year’s recital, and not just when my grandgirls were dancing. I have a greater level of appreciation and expertise than when they first began dancing (a lesser level would have been impossible!!) So, I think I could now make an informed vote on who should win Dancing With The Stars. If I watched it. Like that’s going to happen.

Best Father's Day Ever

2010-06-20T16:23:00.000-07:00

There are so many ways to end the sentence, "When I get to Heaven...." Well, I've added another: When I get to Heaven, if watching videos of my life is an option, today will be one I watch over and over.

My children both still like to spend time with me, so we were planning on lunch today. As usual, the "where" was a big discussion, and we finally settled on Joe's Crab Shack in Newport. I didn't have much input in that, and that's OK, because I knew I would be with the whole family. We might not have as many "family traditions" as some families, but whenever possible we get together to eat and celebrate the milestone days. One Father's Day tradition that we had for a few years was that Jen would take, first Jolie and then both girls, to have pictures taken, and then she would use one of the prints to get me a Father's Day tie tesselated with the picture of the girls. I think I have six or seven of those. I was disappointed when that little tradition stopped, partly because annual sittings for the girls stopped happening, plus I think the place that did them went out of business. But I was looking forward to the lunch and observing my children interact with each other and my grandchildren.

The day started, as many do, with a facebook posting, and mine for the day was "blessed to have two children who celebrate their Dad pretty much all year long." Got a couple of affirming comments from a couple of my "other" girls who are a big part of my life, tho far away geographically. (North Carolina and Bakersfield).

Sunday School has become a real highlight and we had an enjoyable time affirming each other and discussing Bob's 60-mile walk yesterday (see the link on my FB page if you haven't already done so).

Met the kids for lunch, had an enjoyable time watching them and watching the wide variety of boats enjoying Newport (or Balboa) Bay while we were eating. When we were done, Jen set a gift bag in front of me, and I could see a couple of cards. This has also become a tradition, one card from Jen and Jeff and one from the girls.

I opened the one addressed to "Grandpa Rick" first-- they were going to see Grandpa Chuck and Grandpa Woody later. Here's what the card said: "Grandpa, if the wishing star offered to give us either a million dollars or the greatest grandpa in the world, we'd take the million dollars...pause...'cause we've already got the greatest grandpa in the world." Jeslyn added, "I love you grandpa Rick. You are the best grandpa ever." So what if it was redundant, one can't hear that too much! Jolie, now 10, wrote, "I love ya, gramps. You're awesome. Happy Father's Day. Jolie". Now that was cool on so many levels. I don't think she's ever called me gramps, or spelled "you" as "ya". Just reminding me we're both getting older. Note also that she said "you're" instead of "your". This puts her ahead of about 75% of high school America in proper grammar usage. Then of course there is also the recognition that her grampa is awesome.

Then came the one addressed to Dad. "Dad, every year you say something like, 'Oh, I don't want anything for Father's Day,' or "don't go spending any money on me.' Well, I just have one thing to say.....no problem. (by the way, could you reimburse me for this card? Also, the card shop was next to a shoe store, so I'll need a little extra.) Happy Father's Day from your daughter." Then Jen added, "A little funny this year, but the real message is you're always there for us and we love you, Jeff and Jen." Note first of all, again the correct use of the words "your" and "you're". I learned her good!! She managed to say with humor the message she sends me often--she can count on me. For this Dad, nothing greater in the world can be said to me.

I then noticed there was something still in the bag---and teared up when I saw a tie with the current edition of Jolie and Jeslyn's faces on it. No matter that I very rarely have occasion to wear a tie any more. No matter that I see the girls almost every day. What matters is that this was my daughter acknowledging that special bond that she and I share, and that making her daddy happy is still important to her after all these years. And this she has done. Again. We have to attend at least one formal dinner on our cruise in August, and part of my wardrobe for the evening has been established.

I've left out Tim and Anne so far, but they are a big part of my life and were a big part of my day. Again, it doesn't matter that I only saw them yesterday--I went out there for lunch and to patch some drywall for them. But they wanted to be there for the traditional lunch today, and I looked forward to their being there. So much of Tim's life is his love for movies, and we have shared many a special occasion together in the theatre. So off the 4 of us went to see Toy Story 3--Jen and the girls had seen it Friday. What a wonderful "dessert" for the feast day that was Father's Day for me. Jen called it a perfect movie on Friday, and I couldn't agree more. It really isn't a children's movie in the sense that children can't see beyond the plot to the core values that are preached in the movie--loyalty, family, friendship, and so many others. So, as my daughter's tie gift brought me to tears, so did this movie that I attended with my son and surrogate daughter. One of the added traditions and joys we have is the ritual of "debriefing" after watching a movie together. This time, there were not many critical comments from any of us (unlike the last Indiana Jones!) and I was left to marvel at the depth of my son's knowledge of roles, characters, background, etc, that is the result of his lifelong love for the movies.

So today was another, "Why me, Lord?" day. Why am I blessed with such great friends, a great wife, great kids and grandkids, and life experiences? Don't have an answer, but it's a great ride.

Command performance at Moiola

2010-05-27T13:29:00.001-07:00

After deciding not to sub in middle school today, I set out to be a dad for my kids. First, I took Tim's car in to my local shop, trying to figure out why it won't pass the smog test.

Then Jen called about 9:15 and asked if I could run down and pick up their video camera so she could tape Jeslyn's performance at the Moiola variety show today.

Since I am such a lover of the arts, I decided to allow you to vicariously enjoy the variety show through my eyes.

The first performance was a jump-rope duet. Now you don't see those every day. These two girls jumped to the tunes of the Village People's "Y.M.C.A." I don't think Bruno would have many good things to say about it. Don't understand why he wasn't there since DWTS ended last night (don't get me started on that). Unless it was their plan to hit their foot on every third jump, they could have used a bit more practice. The positives were that they correctly spelled YMCA correctly both times, and they didn't break their jumpropes.

Next was a young man, aided by his father, who demonstrated what he had learned in his self-defense. Unlike dance, voice and jumprope I know little about self-defense, so I wouldn't presume to critique his performance, except to say his dad's in a lot of trouble when the kid gets bigger.

Next was a little girl who sang. I forget the name of the song. For awhile, I was afraid she did, too. I'm going to give her Chelsea's (voice teacher friend of mine) number.

Then a sister duet of "Mammie's little baby loves shortnin bread." They were pretty good, as were their costumes. The little sister did an excellent job in her role of mammie's little baby.

Then came a couple of girls in cheerleader uniforms. They had a "W" on the chest, so either they weren't Moiola outfits or they put them on upside down. They did a routine to the "Macarena". (Where was SB 1070 when the Macarena came across the border?) The nice thing about the Macarena is that we could have guessed the song even if the CD player stopped working.

Then came a pair of sisters who were apparently the stars of the last 2 shows. They did a dance/hula hoop routine, and would have been the stars of this year's show except for the performer that followed them.

The little first grader did a solo dance routine the "My Friend the Witch Doctor." The choreography was impeccable, her energy level was so contagious that the audience got caught up and began to clap in time with the music. I won't bore you with the technical names of all her dance steps. Let's just say her walla walla was full of bing bang. Standing ovation at the end (OK I made that part up). Did I mention this performer was my granddaughter Jeslyn?

After that I, and much of the audience, lost interest. There were still a few acts to go, but like a good Angel fan I left with the program about 70% completed. I vaguely remember a 5 year old boy doing karate and another playing the piano, but they were so depressed at having to follow Jeslyn that you could tell their little hearts were not in their performance.

Back to other child, Tim's car still wasn't fixed, still didn't pass smog so I took it to a GM dealer in town. This was 2.8 miles from home, so I disdained their shuttle and walked home to help prepare me to watch my friend Bob walk 60 miles on his 60th birthday, and many of my friends run the July 4th 5k in Huntington Beach.

All in all, a good Daddy Day.

A Day at the North Shore

2010-05-19T22:39:00.000-07:00

Today worked best for our jaunt to the North Shore, and for once all of the things we wanted to do we got to do.

Started with a stop at the Dole Plantation. Not a big whoopee for me, but Jan and Karen (my sister) have a great time there. Jan loves the two quilt booths, and bought a pillow slip for our living room--turtles, I think.

We then went into Haliewa and introduced them to Giovanni's Shrimp Shack. For those of you not familiar, it is a side-of-the-street stepvan, that sells shrimp in 3 styles--lemon butter, hot and spicy, and scampi. This is one of two locations, and it has become quite popular without any advertising that I know of. When Jeff is with us, I eat a few of the hot ones, but they are VERY hot and so I got the scampi, which is full of garlic and makes everyone in the car uncomfortable but me. Don't think it was my sister's kind of place--sitting at picnic tables with "icky" spots on them, peeling the shrimp with many napkins at the ready, pepsi out of a can, etc. There are now about 4 other vendors at the same location, most of whom have plenty of time to watch the people eat at Gio's.

We went then to our favorite place to shop, which includes my favorite mexican place in the islands, Cholo's. We actually saw an advertisement for them on TV this year. Might actually miss eating there this year, unless we make another trip north before we leave Sunday. I went instead to the Aloha General Store, which is my spot for shave ice. This year I opted for blue raspberry with blue vanilla, and it was a good choice. Jan also found the wind chimes she was looking for in this store, wooden ones cut and painted with a "turtle" motif. Jay bought Karen some jewelry at the Black Pearl store, which apparently uses up her gift allotment for the rest of the year.

Drove up and stopped at what I think is Sunset Beach, where we hope each year to find sea turtles sunning themselves. We hit the jackpot this year, with one already on the beach and 3 more that crawled up while we were there. There are always a couple of volunteers to spread a rope cordon around the turtles to keep humans away. This rest is very important for the life expectancy of the turtles, so the volunteers make sure they are not disturbed.

Stopped at Dole again on the way home so that Jay could buy some chocolate-coconut-covered macadamia nuts, which he very unselfishly shared with me.

The only downside was my stop at a little golf shop just across from Schofield barracks. With the airlines charging $100 per flight to ship golf clubs, I've decided to buy a simple set and just find a place to leave them in Hawaii since we try to play every year, and would play more were it not for the shipping and/or rental fees. Well, this guy had a used set of irons that were off brand and wanted $700 for them, which is twice what I paid for my Callaway Big Bertha's at Roger Dunn. So I guess I'll find a cheap set on the mainland, pay to have them shipped once and then have a set over here all the time.

Came home and made leftover tacos with some of my favorite salsa--mine! Lakers beat the Suns, so all was well. Then the Dodgers had to go and lose to San Diego, the first time they've lost since we've been here, which means Dodger fans will probably not pay now to keep me here. Bummer.

Confessions of a Spoiled Man

2010-05-17T21:55:00.000-07:00

The last few days have served, among other things, how spoiled I have become, and how much I take for granted. The above picture is the front of our first stopping place in Hawaii, the Waiohai Beach Club by Marriott in Poipu. Our beach is below. It is our second time there, and it was much better this time, mainly because our view included a part of the beach instead of the corner of a building.

It's kind of blurry (as are others) because I didn't enlarge them BEFORE downloading, and am too lazy to find them again, but you get the idea.

Marriott is in the process of opening their latest Hawaii project, called Kauai Lagoons, and we agreed to attend a preview, mainly for the $100 in gift certificates, and to see what was in store for us when we tried to trade into it.

Here is the outside of the building, and as we were driving up, it was nice, but we've come to expect that from Marriott. Then, we walked into the unit and were greeted by the view below. The pictures don't really do it justice, and if you go to vacationclub.com and do a resort search for Kauai Lagoons, you will get better pictures.

This is the view from the living room. What you can't see from this picture is that the sliding doors are accordion-like, so basically the ocean front becomes part of your living room. It is 61 feet above the harbor, overlooks the golf course. We were both pretty much overwhelmed and had decided that if the price was right, we were going to go for it. Well, the incentives were unbelievable--I'd list them, but Jan wants to tell the kids in person when we get home, so let's just say it was a relatively easy decision to make. We both decided that if it came down to being able to keep only one timeshare, this would be the one.

That's where the spoiled part comes in--unlike our first timeshare purchases, we are going to have to finance this one. So, for the first time in 5 years, we have a payment other than our mortgage. It means I'll probably have to sub a few more days than I had originally planned, and we probably won't have the mortgage paid off as soon as we would like, so I had a bit of buyer's remorse the next morning. We've come up with a way to make it more palatable, but it's still an area of our finances we haven't had to deal with in awhile. But, spoiled that we are, we wanted it and went for it.
So then we came over to Ko Olina, where we have owned for about 5 years, and then next part of our spoiled lives was brought into focus. We were excited because they have opened a new building, closer to the water, and we had requested the new building. Well, apparently our wording wasn't complete enough, and we were put into a building we don't really like. Poor us.

Have to put up with sunsets like this, though we have to walk all the way out to the water to get a shot like this this time of the year. Poor us.

The view from our room is sort of like this, only better. The lanai is in the shade for most of the day, so Jan can park her fair-skinned self out there without fear of sun poisoning. But, still, it's not the building we wanted so we are still kind of snippy--especially since we had to call housekeeping to finish cleaning our unit, and I'm sure that never happens in the NEW building.

What else do we have lined up for the week, to keep our minds off of how miserably we've been treated? Well, Thursday morning one of my former runners who lives here is coming over, and we will have a blessed time discussing the last 25 years of our lives. One evening a fraternity brother who lives here is taking us out to dinner.

Sometime this week we will visit Giovanni's shrimp shack. Which is what we lovingly call a "roach coach" permanently parked on the North Shore. They cook 3 awesome flavors of shrimp, and it's become a staple for our visits.

This is our favorite mexican restaurant on the island, again on the north shore in Haleiwa, and I can't wait to go there.

My friend Don told us of this place, and we ate there last year and plan to go again if we have time this year.

A little past Haleiwa Joe's is Sunset Beach, where we can usually find at least one turtle sunning himself on the beach, surrounded by his protective lifeguards.

So, how can someone have all of these experiences crammed into a 2-week stay, and still whine about the "injustice" of his non-preferred room location? It's simple--I'm spoiled. My facebook pages are full of status reports of people that are still grinding away at their jobs, I'm in paradise, and complaining.

Jan had the perfect remedy for our malaise--she called Jennifer. She talked to her for awhile and handed me the phone. We had a 5 minute conversation, which helped remind me she still needs her Daddy from time to time, and I felt better. For the rest of the day, I

1) made salsa 2) watched the Lakers, 3) followed the Dodgers on the internet 4) made tacos.

I'm fine now.

Gloatin-free vacation.

2010-05-10T10:25:00.000-07:00

My wife says I'm mean when I adopt my "I'm in Hawaii and you're not," attitude so I will try to be nicer. We've always looked forward to the days of retirement when we could travel in "off-peak times" and so far, so good. There was the 27-day road trip to Canada in October, and yesterday we flew to Hawaii for the second test of that philosophy. Thanks to Jeff for getting up before dawn to drive us to the airport.

Off-season benefit number one was taking only 18 minutes from car to gate. We had gotten our boarding passes online, but still had to check bags and go through security.

Delta flights are now like Jet Blue in that each seat has an individual monitor. The down side is that since we were flying over water, no satellite TV was available. The good thing is that, because of that, all of the on-demand movies were free. I started off with "Invictus", which turned out to be one of the best movies I"ve ever seen. Of course I'm a sucker for sports movies, but this was more about the rebuilding of a nation than it was about rugby--and I know about as much about rugby as the people I often sit next to at Angels games know about baseball. I was near tears for most of the movie, mainly because, like most good sports stories, I knew this had really happened. It was a storyline that probably would have been panned as being unrealistic if it hadn't been a true story (see "Victory," a late 70s Stallone movie which pits war prisoners against the German national soccer team!!) I came away thinking that it's too bad Nelson Mandela was not available to become an advisor to President Obama.

I then watched "What About the Morgans?" Not quite in the same class, but I felt I needed an escapist chick-flick after the heaviness of "Invictus". "Morgans" indeed delivered that. Since I didn't have enough time for another movie, I watched much of Robin Williams "Weapons of Self-Destruction" and laughed for the rest of the trip (this show not recommended for conservatives).

Landed in Honolulu, had about a 3-hour layover before our flight to Kauai. Since there were 2 Kauai flights before us, our luggage was waiting for us when we got off the plane. Benefit #2--no one in front of me at the Hertz counter, and I was back to pick up the girls and the luggage in about 10 minutes.

Arrived at the Marriott Waiohai in Poipu right at the 4 pm check-in time. This is our second stay here, and since we traded in and are not owners, we were kind of apprehensive about our lodging location. Last time, we were in the main building, far from the water, with a view of the corner of our building. I called last week, explained that while we weren't Waiohai owners, we DID own 2 Marriott properties, and would appreciate the best view that was available. Well, we have a partial ocean view, facing the southeast away from the courtyard noise and can see the public Poipu beach from the balcony. Made a point of going back to the check-in desk to let her know how pleased we were.

Since we hadn't yet been to the grocery store, we headed to the local hangouts for dinner. Our original plan was to go to Poipu Tropical burgers because we knew it was good, but we also knew there was a Roy's in the same center. We decided to see how crowded they were: Benefit number 3, they had an immediate table. Since (a) it was Mother's Day and (b) I hadn't gotten Jan a card and (c) it's her favorite place to eat in all the world, Jay (my brother-in-law) and I decided that Roy's would be a great idea.

Got up just before 6 Hawaiian time--a lot later than I expected to sleep given the time change. Went out on the balcony to watch the sunrise and listen to the roosters. Took a walk on the beach--tide was out so there was a dry-land path to the rocks and tidepools and I visited them.
Came back towards the room and spent about 10 minutes in the hammock stretched between two palm trees right below our room. Getting ready to go get groceries, go to the Farmer's Market, and other than that relax and enjoy. Karen and Jay have been to Kauai before, so guided tours will not be necessary.

The downside of off-peak travel? My kids and grandkids are not here since they have jobs and school. We thought of skipping Hawaii next year, but Jolie was so disappointed about not going this year we promised to book next year at a time when they could come. Jeff didn't really want to come this year (he hates flying) but as he let us off he told Jan, "Now that I'm here at the airport, I wish we were going."

So I tried to keep the bragging out as much as possible. I am amazed at the blessings of God that have allowed me to spend my "golden years" in such never-dreamed-of luxury. I DID miss my church family this weekend, and I suppose the final benefit (for now) that I can think of is that when we get back in 2 weeks it will be too early for all of them to have started their vacations and I will be able to see them all right away.

Just the Other Night.......

2010-05-05T12:05:00.000-07:00

I have reconnected with many of the kids I taught and many of the people who grew up with me, through Facebook, and it seems to be one reward after another. But there are a few people who were very pivotal for me that I'm still hoping will wind up on my facebook list. One is the point guard I coached who was in Jennifer's class and I know is in Long Beach somewhere but as far as I know is not on facebook.. Well, last night through a friend referral, I reconnected with the girl who was probably responsible for 90% of the drama in my life between the ages of 17-20. I was convinced that I had found the girl with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life. Problem was, most of our interaction involved working out her problems with her boyfriend at the time, a boy that always seemed to be among my best friends. We wrote often during that time, while she was still home and I was in Pasadena, and one of our conventions was to insert the name of the song title that was playing while we were composing the letter. (Example: "So I had ("Monday, Monday") breakfast this morning."). I held onto those letters for a long time after we were married, not to Jan's detriment, but to preserve a historical record of some of the major events of my young life.
Then I met Jan, we got engaged and married, and this young lady wound up getting married a short time before we did. After that we pretty much lost touch, except for a couple of run-ins at hometown (Central California) events. Once cliche says you never forget your first love, and every time I went to the town where I grew up, there was usually an event or location that took me back to those bittersweet years. When Garth Brooks finally got around to singing, "Unanswered Prayers," I realize that song pretty much summed up my feelings.
There is a certain amount of irony in that we are going through a series at church entitled, "I have a Friend Who...." and the 5th in that series will be one about not believing in answered prayer. We probably all know people who are bitter towards God because their prayers have gone unanswered, or at least not answered to their specifications. The Garth song reminds us that the unanswered ones can be one of His greatest gifts. A union of this young lady and me would have probably been an unmitigated disaster. "I look at my wife, and then and there I thank the good Lord for the gifts in my life."
So, even though I really don't have the desire to know what my life would have been like if this girl had felt the way I did, she was a big enough part of my life for me to want to know, "how she turned out." Well, now I know, and the answer appears to be, "very well, thank you."
She and her husband are still married, which means they are also approaching their 40th anniversary this year, they have a 2-year-old grandson who, strangely enough, appears to be the light of their life.
In all my wildest dreams, I never thought our lives would get reconnected to the point where we would be sharing stories and pictures of our grandkids. Thanks, again, facebook--and to her classmate Gayle who let me know as soon as she was on facebook.
They say that if you truly love someone, then their happiness is every bit as important as your own. Well, I'm ecstatic that her life has turned out so well. And I'm sure she feels the same way about mine.
(For you who know your 60s music, she was the girl "with sunlight in her hair.")

They Can't Take That Away

2010-04-28T18:52:00.000-07:00

We had one of those times tonight when both girls had an event and there was no way we could attend both. Jolie was singing in a district 4th grade performance at her school, and Jeslyn had her first night as a member of the competition gymnastics program at SCATS. Originally I was going to take Jeslyn to gymnastics and Jan , Jen and Jeff were going to watch Jolie sing, but Jan decided to switch because the performance was outside and it was very windy. Jolie told me it was each 4th grade doing their own songs, and I wasn't exactly looking forward to that. She was wrong, as it was about 300 4th graders from all over the Fountain Valley school district who had all learned the same songs. Jolie's school was the host and so they were the last in, and she was right up in front by the microphone where I had a perfect view of her. They started with a rendition of the original "We Are the World" and it touched me deeply, given the lines of the chorus and the multi-ethnic nature of the group. In fact, that song was originally going to be the focus of my comments, that is, until near the end of the program.

They sang "America the Beautiful" and some folk songs, and then there was an announcement that there would be two more songs.

I didn't recognize the next song from the introduction, and took a deep breath when they started, "if tomorrow all the things were gone.....", and just at that moment Jennifer touched me on the shoulder, because she knew how much the song meant to me. My thoughts raced back to the days of September 11, 2001, and the awful events of that day. The following Sunday I was part of a duet that got up in church and sang, "God Bless the USA" and it was one of the most memorable moments of my life. Watching my 10-year old granddaughter sing the song with her classmates was every bit as memorable, if not more, for so many reasons. Just the fact it was public school kids singing "God Bless the USA" was meaningful enough. Also, it was probably my imagination, but it seemed to me that, while Jolie knew all the words and sang fervently on all the songs, she really poured her heart into this one. I don't know if she had been told how much the song meant to Grampa, but it seemed as if she had. I was thankful that I am still close enough to my daughter that she knew and cared how much the song would touch me. I told her that if she made a CD of the event, I would like a copy. And I know if she does, I will get one (putting friends and family on notice, you may be subjected into a viewing of said video).

A couple of months ago, I gave up political comments for lent, and my blood pressure was so grateful that I have continued that practice. But I have no reservations in saying,

I'm proud to be an American, where at least I know I'm free.

And I won't forget the men who died, who gave that right to me.

And I'll gladly stand up next to you, and defend her still today.

Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land...God Bless the USA.

With thanks to Glenn, Don, Joe and Timothy

2010-04-18T22:36:00.000-07:00

Haven't blogged in almost 3 months. The creative juices seem to have beem muted by a variety of things, most notably tax season. Now, 200 tax returns later, it's time to see if I can still do this.

First of all, tax season was amazing. I knew I would enjoy the added income, but I had no idea I would enjoy the interaction with my new clients to the degree that I did. I think I'm going to write a series of blogs on individual clients and the remarkable stories they have.

Since Christmas, we've known how we were going to celebrate the end of tax season. Our kids got us tickets to see the Eagles at Hollywood Bowl, and that was the light at the end of our tax tunnel. We were originally going to the Friday night concert and Jeff and Jen on Saturday, but switched with the when Jeff wound up playing the guitar at church for the weekend. So, Saturday night it was. As it turns out, traffic caused the kids to miss the first half hour of the concert Friday, including "Hotel California", so we vowed to not let that happen to us. We also didn't want to drive back after the concert, so we used points to book a room at the Renaissance Hotel in Hollywood, which overlooks Hollywood Boulevard and is about a half mile from the bowl. That also solved our parking problem, since there is a shuttle to the bowl that departs from the back side of the hotel.

We left about noon on Saturday, and had lunch at the Northwoods Inn. This was a nostalgic trip for us--when we lived in Pasadena, the NI in San Gabriel was our special date place, and the one in La Mirada helped us bring back some memories. Got to the hotel about an hour earlier than check in, but since we are such "high rollers" with Marriott, we were checked in. Our room looked down at the Kodak (Academy Awards) Theater and we could also see Disneys El Capitan Theatre with many limos parked in front for the premiere of "Oceans".

Boarded the shuttle around 6, got there and seated about an hour early for the concert. Jan read her paperback while I people-watched, but never spied anybody famous!

Starting with their a capella "There are Stars in the Southern Sky", the Eagles then treated me to 3 1/2 of the greatest hours of my life. They sang many songs from their new "Long Road out of Eden" CD, and nearly all of their old ones. It appeared my favorites were also the most popular with the crowd as a whole. I think one of the most special things was that they didn't try to trick up their classics with new arrangements. (I found myself thinking of Rick Nelson's "Garden Party", when he talks about how unpopular his Madison Square Garden concert was because he didn't play any of his old stuff, and concluded that "if you can't please everyone then you got to please yourself). All of the songs sounded just as they did when originally recorded--only better. "Hotel California" started with a haunting trumpet solo intro, but it was faithful enough to the original so that all in the crowd knew what was coming. "Lyin' Eyes", my second favorite, was apparently written in two days as they watched some of the patrons of the club they were playing in 1975. Which points out another thing I liked--they basically played and sang, without the need to introduce the details behind the writing of each song.
Despite Glenn Frey's jokingly welcoming us to the Eagles "Assisted Living Tour" it was obvious that all were still at the top of their game, both vocally and musically. We heard Joe Walsh's hits also, and he was very much a crowd favorite. There was video backup for many of the songs, and they had for the most part been put together with some thought, tho there were a couple that appeared to have video for video's sake alone. The best videos were probably the ones for "Boys of Summer," and "Dirty Laundry".
All in all, it was as close to a perfect night as it could be. The only thing that could have made it better would have been a little more space to sit than the sardine-like confines of the Bowl's bleachers. The only thing I could think of that they didn't sing were the Glenn Frey songs from his Miami Vice period ("You Belong to the City", etc) and they didn't sing "Get Over It" from Hell Freezes Over. They finished around 10:30, came back for the obligatory encore and played right up until the 11 oclock curfew. They had saved "Take It Easy," for that, along with another Joe Walsh guitar extravaganza. Finally, the guy next to Jan said, "I can't think of anything they haven't sung." I said, "the concert's never over until the 'fat lady' sings "Desperado"." Sure enough, Don Henley closed the night with that traditional classic ending.
I sometimes forget this fact, but remember it every time I make it to a concert by the great ones: The staying power of a great musical group is not based on what they do in the studio, but the way they are able to entertain in a live performance. The Eagles 35-year run underscores that truth.
It was nice to be able to just go to the hotel on the shuttle and not drive the 1 hour home that night. We checked out about 9 this morning, in time to make it home to the 1030 service at the best church in Orange County. That's also a pretty good "live" experience.

2010-01-21T11:56:00.000-08:00

These pictures didn't turn out the way I had hoped, so blame the existing gaps in my computer literacy. I decided to talk a little about the "new" Anne Rice, for those of you who haven't followed her recent life.

A couple of years ago, I came across the book, "Christ the Lord, Out of Egypt", by Ms. Rice. My original thought was, "Oh, great, now Jesus was a vampire grappling with his sexual identity." For some reason, I read the author's notes before I bought the book. She described herself as a lapsed Catholic, who always knew she would write a book about Jesus. Her original intent was to investigate and write a book to justify her lost faith. She discovered that much of the so-called "higher criticism" was as biased as any research she had ever seen. She continued her research and finally wrote this statement: "I finally concluded that Jesus was who He said He was." Consequently, she returned to the church, persuaded her atheist husband to renew their vows in the church, and began her new journey.

I'm sure she was a great writer before, but her subject matter didn't really interest me. Not so any more. The first book, "Out of Egypt," is told through the eyes of the 12-year-old Jesus. Much is what Protestants would consider apochryphal (in the first chapter, he kills one of his playmates and brings him back to life!), but it's a great portrayal of the One who was wholly man and wholly God. He's struggling with identity as any 12-year-old would, and I just was constantly blessed by the book.

The second, "Road to Cana" was an account of his life leading up the the wedding in Cana where he performed his first recorded miracle, the changing of water to wine. One story line is again one that some will have trouble with, for a young lady in Nazareth was in love with him and he with her. He had to ultimately leave her to fulfill his calling, but this story line kind of validates the scripture that states, "He was tempted in EVERY way...." How can he relate to the temptations that are common to all if he didn't experience them in his human body?

She has apparently written an autobiography of her spiritual re-awakening (the title escapes me at this point), but her 3rd work of fiction is one I am reading now, and even though I'm only a few chapters in, it's already my favorite. It's called "Angel Time" and it's the story of a contemporary 28-year-old contract killer who is given the opportunity by an Angel to use his skills to rescue rather than kill. That's all I've read so far, but the insight into the thought process of God's messengers has been very enlightening. I posted this quote on my FB status, and I want to do it again here. He's invited Toby (the killer) to help him, Toby hasn't made his decision yet, and Malchiah, the angel, says, "Let me make it clear: because I choose a mortal for my purposes, that does not mean the mortal is going to agree to come with me. Finding such a one as Toby is hard enough, persuading him to come with me is even harder. You'd think it was irresistable, but it's not. People swindle themselves out of Salvation with great regularity." (italics mine). What a great picture of the doctrine of free will. God loves us all, but doesn't demand that we love him back.

I usually read when I go to a restaurant, but I've decided to leave this book at home, to read it without any distractions, less I miss some of the best it has to offer. I have fluffier books to take with me when I'm just looking to have something to do while eating.

So, if you've seen the new Anne Rice books but have had doubts about reading them, let me put them to rest. She reaffirms the cornerstones of the Christian faith: God loves you, sent His Son to die for you, and will go to any lengths to bring you home. If you decide to pick up one of the books, prepare to be blessed.

Happy Birthday to Me

2009-12-30T13:00:00.000-08:00

Well, tomorrow I'm turning Sweet 61 (selective dyslexia on my part). Currently I'm sitting in the kitchen of Jeff and Jen's new house, babysitting for them with Jan so they can shop and not have whiny kids dragged along with them. Jan is in the TV room honing up on her Beatles Rock Band skills, while I've been watching delivery room updates on FB from my friends Heather and Darren as they await the birth of their first child. We had breakfast this morning with 5 of our dearest friends, and the birthday wishes have been pouring in on facebook from new and old friends. Can life get any better? I've decided that it can indeed. For example:

Alicia, Joe, Amber, Angel, Brent, Billy, Laurel, Austin, Tamila, Aaron, Travis, Bob, Diane, Bonnie, Brandon, Sarah, Chelsea, Cody, Evie, Cindy, Scott, Connie, Bruce, Curtis, Kristi, Haley, Lexi, Dan, Martha, Dave, Dave, Dave, Heather, Don, Lyn, Elizabeth, Dave, Heidi, Kurt, Hope, Jack, Irene, Robert, Jessica, Jennifer, Joel, John, John, Jolene, Jon, Jordan, Kasey, Kevin, Kirk, Lilian, Mandy, Josh, Steven, Jagger, Michele, Dave, April, Paula, Sammy, Phyllis, Robbie, Scott, Tamra. These are the names of my facebook friends that I didn't know 2 years ago, just from my church. That doesnt' count the number of students I have reconnected with, who are part of my life again. I used to have a poster in my room with a quote from Bob Dylan: "He who isn't busy being born, is busy dying." I understand that so much more now than I did when I hung it up.

This spring I will be meeting close to 200 new tax clients, bequeathed to me by my retiring friend Don. We have a chance to go on a mission trip to Chile this summer, and have already booked a 40th anniversary Alaska cruise for August.

All our lives, we have friends who we say, "Can't wait to see them again." At this point in my life, I really have nothing stopping me from doing just that.

My sister once told me that I have trouble meeting new people, and for much of my life that was true. I don't know how, but that has changed so much that I actually think I would enjoy being (gasp!!) a GREETER at church.

So, while my life is better than it has ever been, I am struck by the thought that it is far better than I ever dreamed it COULD BE. So, logically, it is possible that it could get even better. I can't wait to see how God can make that happen. Especially with me asking all the time, "Why me?"

"Looking Good"

2009-12-16T21:17:00.001-08:00

December means basketball tournament season at our house, and even though I'm retired, I'm assisting Jeff with his Cypress team, and this week we are in the Orange Optimist Tournament, being held, logically, in Westminster. This week also marks the 6-month anniversary of my official retirement.
Our first tournament game didn't go well, but I ran into a couple of old friends so the day wasn't a total loss. The first was Tom McCluskey, the coach at Trabuco Hills, and he was the reason the game didn't go well. Tom and I coached at the Tustin High School at the same time. He won a state championship with the boys in 1991, the same year my girls lost in double overtime in the quarterfinals to finish the year 25-4. As Tom and I were talking, he offered this statement: "You're looking good, you seem so relaxed." Before the next game, I spied Mark Lewis, who played for us at Tustin in 1981 when we reached the CIF finals--I was coaching boys then. Mark's son is playing at Laguna Beach High School, and we will play them tomorrow. Mark went on to play at Long Beach State, was City Engineer for Fountain Valley for awhile, and now lives and works in Laguna Beach. During the course of our conversation, he offered, "You're looking good, you seem so relaxed." That phrase is also repeated when I visit Foothill High School or the Tustin District office. So I joked to Jan that either I really am more relaxed, or that's just one of the things that's easy to say to old people. She said, "The last couple of years you taught, your brow was almost always creased." Wow, I didn't realize that, but if the change is so evident to so many people it must be true. I'm still getting used to being retired, still trying to master the idea that if I don't feel like doing anything, I don't have to (once I do master that idea, I'll be ready for my next career as a politician).
But was I really that miserable my last few years on the job? I started thinking of my facebook friends who are teachers, and some of their most recent posts. So many of them are counting the days until Christmas Vacation, rather than counting the days until Christmas. All of them are recognized as good teachers, and if you asked them, they would say there is no job they would rather have. Yet, for as much as they like their job, they seemingly cannot wait to not be doing it. My explanation for that feeling is this: With all of the outside input they receive on how to do their job, and the pressure to perform on standardize tests, much of the joy of the profession is neutralized. I have a friend who teaches at private school who said the last 2 days before vacation would be taken up with student parties. Such things are not allowed at public school--reminders are given before every date where there is danger of a party breaking out--and I really think the possibility of building relationships with kids, especially those in need of a significant adult role model, is sacrificed at the altar of testing. I know this is a recurring soapbox of mine, but being out of the profession for 6 months has not lessened the depth of my feeling on this subject.
So, what will the next 6 months hold? Well, the end of basketball season will be followed by tax season. Also--I'm going to occasionally substitute teach. I will be really interested to see if I really enjoy it, just being with kids, minus the pressure of performing. And, when I run into a former student on campus, I would much rather hear, "You're looking good, so relaxed," than, "Hey, Mr. Falk, I got Advanced on my Algebra 2 State Test."

Report Card

2009-12-04T18:41:00.000-08:00

I've been asked by a friend to blog about my impressions of our president after nearly a year in office. Actually, I need to thank my conservative friends, not for their efforts to "enlighten" me about how evil President Obama is, but rather for putting into the spotlight how un-Christian my behavior towards George W. Bush. I feel rather hypocritical for emphasizing Romans 13 to my Christian conservative friends for this president, while basically ignoring that part of the Bible for the last 8 years.
I am not as enamored with the president now as much as I was when he first took office. It really is expecting too much of any person to carry through as much hope and change as he was proposing. At first the attacks on his office made me very angry, but at some point I realized he didn't need me to defend him, and friendships are more important than politics. I would suspect that the conservatives in my facebook friend list far outnumber the liberals, but if I had to choose between losing their friendship and becoming conservative, I would choose the latter. Fortunately, since they are my real friends, they would never ask me to make that choice. Perhaps an analogy would be two lawyers who beat each other up in court, and then go out for a drink afterwards. I must admit that sometimes I "hide" their status for awhile when the hate seems to overflow, but dropping them from my list of friends has never been an option.

Maybe I would make a good politician, as I've managed to fill a couple of paragraphs without really saying anything. I know it's early in his tenure, but I can honestly say I cannot think of a single thing that has happened in Washington the last year that has had a measurable impact on my life, pro or con. This puts him in the same category as nearly every president that I can remember. Probably the biggest personal impact came from GWB, for spearheading No Child Left Behind, and it was for that that he earned my antipathy. To me that was big government at its worst. I do have a conservative friend who says that Bill Clinton was actually more of a conservative than GWB, and NCLB would seem to support that statement. If I were still teaching, President Obama might actually make me angrier, in that he is a proponent of merit pay for teachers, again believing education can be measured by test scores. Following that logic, Foothill teachers deserve more than Century High School teachers because of their test scores, and there is no logic in that at all. I just don't know how merit pay would work, because all teachers have a different clientele with different abilities. It's interesting to me that President Obama was booed at the ultra-liberal NEA convention, for his stand on merit pay. Hopefully with all the other things on his plate he wont have a change to get around to that one, since I still have many family members who are public school teachers.
The biggest hot button is obviously health care. It looks like his plan will eventually go through, and far more people are talking against it than for it. To me, the argument that makes me the angriest is that people without health care don't deserve it. Conversely, those of us who do have it deserve it. That makes no sense to me. What human being doesn't deserve a chance to be healthy? The classic argument is that all of us do have health care because ERs are required to treat whether the person has insurance or not. The response to that is that many ERs are closing for that reason--they can't afford to stay open and not get paid, nor can we expect them to. So, my stance on that hasn't changed--I believe health care is a right, on the same level as police protection, fire protection, freeways, and other tax-supported institutions. I think I even believe--though I haven't thought this through, that health care is more important than a free public education. I have no problem with my taxes going up if it means health care for more people. I have already been blessed far more than I ever expected to be, and sharing is not distasteful to me. Having said that, I have no problem with those who believe the current proposed plan is not the best answer. And, the truth be told, I don't know enough about it to know if it is good or bad. Since I am now paying almost $700 a month for Jan's medical insurance, a plan that would reduce that is appealing to me.
So there are things about it I don't know. What I do know is that it is nearly impossible to get an unbiased opinion in the media, particularly with those stations who laughingly call themselves "News media." I believe to my core that any time the lips of the two most popular conservative "analysts" move, they are lying. They will say whatever they think their "public" wants to hear, and they are entertainers, period. There is as much hard news in their diatribes as there is in a Jay Leno monologue. (Decided not to use names just in case someone reports me!)
Since we are discussing lying, I cannot help but admit I am greatly disappointed in the falsehoods that have become part of the administration's "new job" figures. When BO spoke today saying that the job loss for November was the lowest since 2007, I didn't entirely believe him. It is no defense that he was just reporting numbers created by his staff. Harry Truman certainly had it right when he pointed out where the buck stops.
I have a friend (who asked for this blog) who pointed out the president's approval rating was down 7 points in the last 3 weeks. I poked him a little, saying I hoped he would report when and if the numbers spiked up. I think all of us are guilty of believing the numbers that support our point of view. Getting back to schools, if you believe public schools are failing, then you believe the comparisons of our test scores with other countries. If you believe, as I do, that teachers have never been better trained than they are today, then you will point out that America is the only country on earth that tests every student, not just those who are on the university track. Kids who "fail" the standardized tests in America at age 16 are kids that would have been weeded out of the system at age 12 in other countries. It's the same with politics. As Art Garfunkel penned almost 50 years ago, "A man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest."
As for Afghanistan, I'm not ready to support the escalation of troops. I think it's also a Catch-22 for the president. There are people, some very well-known radio hosts for example, who would actually welcome another terrorist attack on American soil, for then their predictions would be proven right. I think by unofficially declaring war on the Taliban, the president has almost guaranteed another attempt in this county. The only way he can "win" would be to destroy them without any loss of life in America. I don't see that happening, but with all my heart I hope I am wrong. Should we be there? I honestly don't know at this point. The cynic would suggest a closed door deal--"I'll vote for health care if you send more troops to the middle east." Logrolling is alive and well.
Well, there it is. You may never hear a more uninformed and baseless political opinion, but that's all I got right now. If you comment, it probably means you disagree. That's fine. I will still love you. No matter how wrong you are!

A Special Day

2009-11-20T19:44:00.000-08:00

My family will tell you I'm not a big fan of "programs". I drag myself to ballet and gymnastics because my grandkids are involved, and would prefer that I could see their performances and go home. I was expecting kind of the same today at the girls' school, since it was "Special Persons" Day. I assume it's like grandparents day that I've seen at other schools, but a little broader.

I figured I would watch the girls classes perform--of course Jeslyn was near the beginning and Jolie was near the end--and took a book to read while the other classes were performing. I was also aware that this is yet another retirement perk--I couldn't have seen this if I was still working. To my enjoyment, I greatly underestimated the impact the day would have on me.

The kindergarten classes started off, with a performance of "It's a Small World" complete with the monotone kid who must have managed to sneak a wireless mike onto his/her person--at age 5 it's kind of hard to tell the boys' voices from the girls'.

Then the first grade, Jeslyn's class, was next, and Jeslyn had been chosen to recite one of the welcome announcements for the class, which she did with one of the broadest smiles of the day. Her smile continued through their singing of their two songs and choreography.

The fifth grade was marked by about 100 kids who all seemed to be on key.

The 6th 7th and 8th graders don't sing, but about 10 of them are chosen to read the essay about their special person, and I decided to put my book away for the time being. Moms and Dads were included of course, but there was one tribute to an inspiring teacher, another to grandparents who took her in, "because my parents couldn't take care of me," and an Uncle who was a Marine war hero. Then all of the middle school kids (Moiola is a k-8 school) came out and presented their special person with a framed copy of their essay. Since the Russells have moved into a new attendance area, I don't know if I will get to see the girls do this at their new school.

Jolie's 4th grade classes were next, and again she exhibited a big smile, was out front performing a french folk dance with classmates, and seemed to be thoroughly at home. I pointed out how happy both of my girls were to be there, because I couldn't help but notice a few kids in all classes who were not smiling, and spent most of the time looking at their shoes. Was wondering whether their parents even came, whether they didn't want their parents to come, whether they were afraid to go home, etc.

Then it was the 3rd graders to perform 2 songs. First was, "I'd like to teach the world to sing," which of course had Jen and I both singing the Coke commercial. Then they did a great job on "We are the World." I have to confess this really got to me. It's moving enough to watch the original performance in this year of MJ's passing. But when you see 60 8-year-olds saying,
"We are the world, we are its children, we are the ones who make a brighter day so let's start giving. There's a choice we're making, we're saving our own lives..." with such conviction, it's quite overwhelming.

Then the second graders also sang a couple of songs which highlighted the theme of the day, which was diversity. Each of the second graded classes listed the native countries represented in their class, and the total seemed to be about 20 different nations.

Then it was time for classroom visitations. Jeff and his mom went to Jolie's class first, so we went to Jeslyn's. She gave us a big hug, then set down to finish the picture she was coloring for her mommy. So Jan and I guided ourselves around the displays, finally getting to the part where each member had posted their special persons essay. Jan and I both teared up when we read, "My sister Jolie is my special person," with 5 or 6 sentences extolling the virtues of her sister, with whom she is frequently quarreling when at grandma's house. (I was reminded of a friend's facebook post. His 5 year old had his 2 year old sister's name posted on his wall as a reminder to pray for her. Daddy was so proud until he learned that the posting was a result of a Sunday school lesson on loving your enemies!) Jeslyn is very competitive and seems always to want to outdo her sister. Yet, Jolie was her special person, and my unbiased opinion is that she could not pick a better person to emulate.

Then we went to Jolie's class. As if to underscore how different they are, Jolie led us on a guided tour of her classroom, explaining each display, and making sure to point out which one was hers. Her "special person" was her entire family, which is fitting because for her to choose would be to possibly hurt someone else's feelings, which she is not willing to do.

I'm thinking Special Persons Day next year will be on November 19. I've already blocked it off on my calendar (or I would if I had one).

Moving Tunes (Pun Intended)

2009-11-04T19:49:00.000-08:00

By now you've probably figured that music and athletics are a big part of my life. If I had any wishes for anything in my life to have been improved, it would have been more talent in baseball and music. Of course, I got an extra dose of ego, so God was smart enough to leave me with something less than professional talent in those two areas. But there always seems to be a song or two that speaks to my current situation and mood, and yesterday seemed to be one of those days. My "job" for the day was to be available to help Jen and Jeff with their move, and it promised to be stressful in that they had to be out of their old house yesterday and wouldn't be able to get their stuff moved into the new house until Friday. Plus, they had spent until the wee hours Monday getting ready for the movers.

The day started with my reading a post put up by my friend Don, who is music minister at our church. He mentioned that he had just heard "We've Only Just Begun" by the Carpenters, and it was popular when he and Lyn were dating. I told him that Jan and I had wanted that song to be sung at our wedding, but it was too contemporary for Jan's mom and we settled for "Whither Thou Goest." Ironically, Don said that was a selection at their wedding also. That led to a long discussion of wedding songs, some quite humorous, others quite touching. It also reminded me of the song sung just before I walked Jen down the aisle, which I've mentioned in a previous blog. Briefly, it was the Wedding Song, with a touch of "Where are you Going" thrown in at the last minute.

So I was already pensive as I headed over to the Russells, and a song came on my XM gospel station. No picture here, but the refrain lifted me up--"Even in the Valleys, God is good." This was followed by one of my favorite hymns, "How Long Has it Been." Again, not necessarily apt for the day's events, but served to remind me--I seem to need to keep being reminded--of how much Jesus wants an intimate relationship with his children.

I took a load over to the house of stuff they didn't want the movers to deal with, and when I returned Jeff was standing in the driveway looking so tired and forlorn that I went over and put my arm around his shoulders and muttered something brilliant like, "it's all going to be OK." Didn't move him, but made me cry!!

Took another load, the radio cue said that Styx was playing, switched to that, and didn't really fit the mood. However, the next song...

was New Year's Day by U2. This was especially pertinent, since Jeff had entrusted me with his most prized earthly possession, his guitar autographed by all members of the band that Jen had put in a case with all of their CD covers. So far, it's still in great condition.

I had to make a trip to Home Depot for him to buy a switch plate to replace the one in Jeslyn's room, got one that was too large, made another trip for a smaller one. Spent a total of 87 cents on the two trips. Coming out, feeling blue again, and Michael W Smith's version of

Bridge over Troubled Water was on, and it's always been one of my favorites, again liftin my spirits.

Jeff asked me if I knew the number for Empire Carpets, and I missed it by one, despite singing the jingle. Turns out they were able to come to the new house tonight and new carpets will be installed tomorrow. I pointed out that this would not have been possible if they had been fully moved in by today. Another example of God making our lemons into lemonade.

They got everything out, got the keys to the new house today and Jen and Jeff are sleeping on the floor there today while the girls are spending the night with us.

I found myself thinking of the refrain from "We've Only Just Begun.":

Sharing horizons that are new to us
Watching the signs along the way
Talking it over just the two of us
Working together day to day....together

When we first heard those words, they were full of the hope and dreams of starting a new life together. Now, almost 40 years later, they are a description of the rich life that I continue to share with my wife, the life my children share with their mates, and the priceless moments I sometimes share with my grandgirls. And we've only just begun.

A Day at the Mission

2009-10-28T16:00:00.000-07:00

Today was Jan's turn to have a reunion with an old friend, and I went along, too, as I knew her friend Rita also. Their friendship goes back to college days and before, but we hadn't really seen her in at least 25 years. Once again, this was a Facebook-facilitated connection.

Rita lives in Nampa, Idaho, but was down visiting her son in Camp Pendleton. He had just finished with his second deployment to Iraq (thank you, Steven). We agreed to meet this morning at the mission in San Juan Capistrano, since it's about halfway between Pendleton and HB. Rita brought her 2 year old granddaughter, Sarah. (Sorry if it's spelled Sara, I forgot to ask). Sara is a very well-behaved little towhead, and clung to Grandma Rita's leg for much of the early part of the visit.

Admission to the mission includes a free audio tour now, so we had our headsets and were at about our 3rd exhibit when one of the volunteers came up, talked to Sarah, and said she would come back with some food for her to feed the fish. She wound up bringing back a 10-ounce Dixie cup filled about 2/3 of the way to the top with tiny fish pellets. She walked us to the pond, which was brimming with Koi (sp?) and told Sarah to start tossing pellets into the water. So she did--one at a time. I roughly calculated at that rate she had about 6 hours worth of fish food, and I was parked in a 3-hour zone. So I tried to speed things up. I showed her how to pour a little in her hand and throw it all at once, and she enjoyed the feeding frenzy that followed. By the time we were done, she was holding food out over the water and watching them bob their heads out of the water. I kept waiting for her to say, "speak!!" She then had me hold out my hand, and I got to demonstrate that I, too, knew how to feed the fish. We finally ran out of food, she wanted more but didn't throw a fit when told there was no more. Then (this is the best part), she held out her hands and said, "Carry me, Grampa Rick."

There are few greater feelings in the world than to know you have earned the trust of a small child. So I joyfully hoisted her up, fuzzy brown backpack and all, and we started off the view the next stop, the J. Serra chapel. (I was also thinking that this is why Jesus uses such harsh language when discussing those who would violate that trust). Sarah dutifully remained quiet inside the beautiful chapel, which contains paintings of the 14 stations of the cross, and a 300-year old gold altar imported from Spain.

This was my 3rd or 4th visit to mission SJC, but by far the best. First of all was my new friend Sarah, and secondly it was the first time that our visit was not shared with 200 busloads of 4th graders. After a couple of hours I realized this could not have happened just this way a year ago, since I would still have been at work (sorry, I'm really NOT rubbing it in. I'm just happy to be retired and genuinely sad for those of you who aren't but want to be.)

We visited their latest exhibit, a tribute to the California gold rush, and we played in a tent, played checkers and tic tac toe (sort of), occasionally stopping for Sarah to energize with another animal cracker from her backpack.

Went to lunch at Ruby's, which has the built in babysitter of a train circling the area on an elevated track. Finally time to go, and Sarah insisted on a kiss and hug outside the car and once again when she was buckled into her carseat. One byproduct of my friendship with Sarah is that Jan and Rita had plenty of time to catch up. They headed back to Pendleton and we to HB. Sarah's parents are trying to decide whether to stay in the Marines when their hitch is up or to get out and try the job market. It was great to have Rita share how these two met in the Marines, have returned to a relationship with God, and are doing a couples devotional in preparation for the rest of their lives together.

So, I had a great day with a little girl who, unless some pieces come together, I may never see again. There's a chance that her parents will move to Nampa, Idaho to be near Grandma Rita when their hitch is up, and that's the scenario that gets my vote. We now have at least 5 families to visit the next time we make it up that way.

On the way home we decided to run by Marriott's Newport Coast Villas, our first timeshare we bought 6 years ago and haven't visited since. We are booked there this summer and may actually stay there this time, so we were "scouting" which building we wanted to request. The facility is all built out now, though some units are getting some finishing touches, and we can see why it is so popular with out-of-towners.

On the way home, I was beginning to realize while this time of life is referred to as the Golden Years. My day was certainly golden.

Final Weekend

2009-10-20T19:37:00.000-07:00

We left Salem on Friday afternoon and headed back up to the Portland area to spend the weekend. Since our friends are still of the working variety they wouldn't be home until about 7, so we had a couple of hours to kill. We first decided to visit Portland Central Church of the Nazarene because their worship arts pastor, Stephen List, used to be on staff at Garden Grove. Alas, Friday was his day off, so he wasn't there, but a bazillion ladybugs were, and about a dozen made it into the car before we left. We then drove out to Multnomah Falls, just south of the Columbia River, advertised as the 2nd highest year-round waterfall in the country. It was OK, but looking up at it didn't do much for my intermittent vertigo. Found an outlet mall on the way home, got a nice Eddie Bauer jacket/vest on sale, and was so grateful I left them my credit card. Finally got together with Bret and Paula, went to dinner with them and son Kyle and wife Elsa. Kyle and Elsa have two very large dogs whom we left in the house with the resident Italian greyhounds. The result was returning to a house that looked like it had been tp'd--on the inside. Titus-the 6 month old Great Dane-had found a new roll of paper towels, and his mates helped him shred and spread it all over the house.

Saturday morning dawned rainy, so of course we went golfing. Bret, Kyle and I were joined by my nephew Todd, who drove over from Vancouver. He was supposed to work, but very logically concluded he could work any Saturday, while Uncle Rick only was up there for golf on rare occasions. We played the Wildwood course, which is northwest of Portland on the way to Astoria, and if you ever are in the area and are a golfer, I highly recommend it. First of all, we played on a weekend, and it was $37 with a cart for 18 holes. The course is carved out of the mountainside and forest, resulting in many elevation changes and dogleg holes, and the par 4s are short enough for me to reach. Kyle and Todd had a lot of fun together, including the hole where they both managed to hit their drives into a treetrunk that was only about 6 inches wide.

Forgot to mention that their other son, Nate, brought their 15-month old grandson, Oliver, over to have gramma and grampa babysit while he went fishing. Oliver's mom works nights, so she was sleeping. Nate picked up Oliver before we went golfing, and managed to find time to put the Oregon State football website into my favorites list on my laptop. We were not amused!!

Todd and Meredith and their oldest son Mac came down Sunday morning for brunch with the 4 of us, and it was great to see them again. Drove down to Medford to spend Sunday night, trying to decide whether to spend one or two more days getting home. Two days was leading the voting at the time.

Had breakfast Monday morning in Yreka with our friend Kenny, who runs Grandma's House restaurant there. If you are driving I-5 on the way to Oregon, it is a must stop. We hadn't seen Kenny in a few years as he had gone through a divorce from another good friend of ours, so it was good to reconnect with him and see things are going well. He's a big Raider fan, and had gone to the game Sunday, so I'm sure he was in a better mood than he is most Mondays! We then hit the road and decided to just drive and see how we felt. Turns out we felt like coming home, so we covered the entire 725 miles and arrived home about 9:30 last night.

So our longest vacation is over, and we will have lifetime memories as well as a list of places we want to revisit. But it's great to be home. I've been retired since June, but until today we have always been planning for an event, ranging from Hawaii to my retirement party to our trip to Canada. Now it's just re-orienting ourselves, and making sure we are prepared when the tax business ramps up in earnest next year. Took care of renewing my license while on vacation, am in the process of finalizing my paperwork with IRS so I can e-file all of my clients, and am looking forward to getting back into regular attendance at FCC.

In My Life

2009-10-16T11:22:00.000-07:00

There are no pictures to go with this post, because yesterday was unlike any day so far in this vacation. It was a day short on Kodak moments but long on memory lane and validation. I found myself thinking of the words below, which pretty accurately described my mindset when reflecting on the day.

There are places I'll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends i still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

We are staying with cousins in Salem, Oregon, and through facebook I have learned that there are a few former students living in this area. So after lunch yesterday I took some time to visit with them at three different times and locations, and the result was one of the best days in my life.

The first was with Kimberly, a young lady I had in math in the late 80s at Tustin High School, and who graduated in 1990. Through an error in planning on my part, we only had about 15 minutes to chat, but they were rich as she recounted how she wound up in north-central Oregon. Hers is a blended family, having been married for 15 years and having children 13 and 8, plus 3 children that were her husbands from a previous marriage. So she's 37 with a 26-year old stepdaughter. She is able to stay home and has been doing childcare in her home for most of her married life. Since we had such little time, we made plans to get together some more if she is able to come down for her 20th reunion next summer.

Then I met with Terri, who was a 1984 (or 1983?) graduate of THS. Terri's story is quite different. She also was never one of my students, but was a member of the New Life (Christian) Club when I was a faculty sponsor. For whatever reason, she was quite "picked on" in high school, had very few close friends, and had things happen to her in high school that should happen to no one, but unfortunately are quite common. The self-image she developed from that caused pain for her for 20 years after, and she is just now beginning to realize what life has to offer her. She said the reason she "friended" me on facebook was that I was nice to her at a time when very few people were, including those in her own church. She has a daughter who is a sophomore in high school, and is engaged to a man she met 19 years ago who has basically waited all that time for her to be ready to spend her life with him. The story of her life to this point would make a very moving Lifetime movie. We talked for an hour and a half, bound by our familiar experiences and gratitude for God's guidance and protection in getting her to this point in her life. For those of you with a Tustin Meadows background, her dad was known as "Mr 4th of July" and was responsible for starting the tradition of adorning the streetlights of the Meadows with American flags many years ago, and residents have continued that tradition since his death.

Then I met with Barbara and her parents. I only really knew Barbara her freshman year, before the family moved to Oregon in 1983. Her parents were also there, along with her husband, 4-year old daughter and two stepdaughters. Our friendship was forged in tragedy, as the oldest son Jeff was killed on his motorcycle at the age of 19 in 1984, and they had asked me to speak at his funeral. Since then, tragedy has struck again. Barbara's twin brother Barry was murdered in Florida in 1995, and the killers are still at large though the authorities know who they are. Barbara endured being abandoned by her husband when her daughter Reagan was only 10 months old. But she glows as she talks about how God brought David into her life, and the joy the 5 of them have shared in the succeeding years. Her parents, Judy and Richard, were also there, and we had a wonderful time of fellowship together. There is still residual pain for them. I can't imagine outliving any of my children, much less two of them. One of the things I was able to do was to provide them with Jeff's high school transcripts, and also a copy of the eulogy I wrote, which I found while going through stuff getting ready for my retirement party. When we left Judy handed me a Thank You card, which will be a keepsake, and gives me far more credit than I feel I deserve for the role I played in her childrens' lives.

As I look back over this post, I realize it will probably have a pretty small interest level for most of you. It is impossible for me to convey to you the joy that the day in its entirety brought to me. Perhaps if you are a teacher who loves their kids you may understand, especially if you are one of those who look upon your job as one of building lifetime friendships. For me, I met with a very special group of people from my past. My relationship with them when we were younger had a different dynamic in each case. Each of of arrived at this point with a wide difference in the level of pain and heartache we have endured. The common thread? All of them seemed as genuinely happy to see me as I was to see them. All of them see the presence and direction of God in their lives, even when things were at their worst. All are enjoying a time of extreme vitality and happiness at this point, and look upward when giving the credit.

For me personally, it was a continuance of the message I have been getting since I made the decision to retire: "You done good!!" When you are a teacher who is also a Christian, there is always the question of whether you have done enough for your kids and your God. In these cases, at least, it appears the answer was "yes."

Oak Harbor to Salem

2009-10-14T21:44:00.000-07:00

The view to the left is pretty much what can be seen from the bedroom window of the house where we spent the last 3 nights. It is in Oak Harbor, on Whidbey Island, in Washington's Puget Sound. We go there one or two times a year. Jan's cousin Ben is the pastor of the Nazarene Church there and she and Lisa have been like sisters their whole life. In the small world department, turns out that the sister of our children's pastor at FCC is married to the pastor of the Assembly of God Church in Coupeville about 10 miles south of here, and Ben and Mike know each other rather well. Coupeville is one of those quaint little towns that Hollywood loves, and has been the site of a few movies, the latest being "Practical Magic. You can see from the picture why it is not hard to get Jan and I to visit.

Ben and I went golfing on Monday at the Gallery Course, which is part of NAS Whidbey Island. It is now open to the public, and we played 18 holes with a cart for $30 apiece. I love the course, though it is pretty hard, especially the back nine which is cut out of the forest. This particular day was also very cold and windy, so for the first time in recent memory--if ever--I was happy when the round ended.

One further treat for us is that Lisa's father, Paul, has moved out to Oak Harbor from Kansas City. Paul performed our wedding ceremony almost 39 years ago, but we hadn't seen him in at least 10 years. It was great to meet with him and discover that after all these years, our worldviews were pretty much in sync.

We left this morning and the trip contained one of the things that is always a highlight for Jan, a voyage on the ferry system. We boarded at the southern tip of Whidbey Island and rode across to Mukilteo, on the mainland. We lucked out in that we got there just as the ferry was boarding. Sometimes the wait is up to an hour, but this was about 10 am so the morning commute was over. The ferry saves about 45 miles on the trip south.

One added bonus for this trip is that my nephew Jeff has recently moved to Seattle to take a position at B of A, and my sister happened to be up here visiting. So we went to his apartment in the Queen Anne section of Seattle to chat and have some lunch. Again, we love to eat at places on the road that we cannot experience at home and Jeff took us to a restaurant called Spot 5 (or 5 Spot) a few blocks from his house. This particular place changes it's theme and decor every few months, commissions local painters to provide the artwork for the walls, and has thematic offerings on their menu. Jeff said when he first moved there it was 50s Diner, and today it was Puerto Rico. At the end of the theme, the paintings are auctioned off. But the Puerto Rican paintings were beautiful, and included a picture of one of my favorite baseball players, Roberto Clemente. There also was a huge lifesize sea turtle suspended from the ceiling. We could have breakfast or lunch up until 3 pm, so I thought I would post a picture of my sister's breakfast selection.

Pictured below is the cinnamon french toast that she ordered, and tho this picture was taken off the internet, her breakfast looked just like this.

Jeff's apartment is very nicely situated. It's an "upper" of a renovated older home, and from his bedroom he has this view of the Seattle skyline. From his other window he can see part of Lake Washington, including Elliot Bay, which is where Tom Hanks' houseboat was situated for the movie Sleepless in Seattle.

Our drive today took us to Salem, where Jan's cousin Aletha lives with husband Les, and we will be here through Friday afternoon. Especially exciting for me are a few reunions with former Tustin students. I have an evening get-together planned for tomorrow night with a family that I haven't seen since 1983. The last time I saw them was when they asked me to speak at their son's funeral when his life had been cut short at 19. A bond was formed then that hasn't been dimmed by the years of separation, and I'm so excited to see them. There are also 2 more "kids" from Tustin that I will see here before we leave for Portland on Friday. Portland will involve staying with friends, seeing another nephew and his family, and at least one more Tustin high reunion. So even though the sightseeing part of our vacation is over, and Jan and I have decided we are ready to be home and will endure long driving days on Monday and Tuesday, I'm still pumped about what lies in store the next few days.

Kamloops and Whistler

2009-10-10T18:50:00.001-07:00

Our fears of wet roads were unfounded as we woke Thursday to dry roads, 23 degree temps, and about 3 inches of snow on top of our car. We began what the GPS said would be a 7-hour drive to Kamloops in BC, our halfway point to Whistler. We arrived in Golden where we were to catch the Trans-Canada highway only to find it was temporarily closed due to an accident. After a half hour delay we were allowed to move on, but the road was understandably crowded. We were to go through a couple of national parks on the way through, but it turns out that most of the venues in Glacier and Revelstoke National Parks were closed for the winter. There were some spectacular views, but nothing close to Glacier NP in Montana. It really seems to be more of a hiking/backpacking place than tourist-friendly. We stopped for lunch in a little town called Revelstoke, a charming little railroad town, called "historic" for reasons we never figured out,

but we did find this cool place to eat called Bad Paul's, pictured at left. I had a spicy beef wrap, which wound up being nearly as hot as the shrimp at Giovanni's on Oahu. It was also very filling, so I still have the other half in our ice chest. As we have found in every stop in Canada, the waitress was very friendly and helpful, and after a short tour of the town, we moved on toward Kamloops. Evidently the GPS figures on your averaging about 40 MPH, and since it is off-season, there was not much traffic, and we made very good time.

We finally arrived at Kamloops around 4 pm, and this is an aerial view of the city. It has about 75000 people and the place we stayed was very nice, with a very good restaurant called the White Spot within walking distance. Jan was feeling poorly, so we got takeout and I endured another Halo win over the Red Sox.

Today was about a 4-hour drive to Whistler, which along with Vancouver will be the site of the 2010 Winter Olympics in a couple of months. Unlike the other places we have visited in Canada which are already scaling back for the winter, Whistler was in full swing, and the downtown parking lots were full. Turns out it was the annual Turkey Sale, which is held every Thanksgiving Weekend in Whistler. October 12 is Thanksgiving in Canada, and the turkey sale is actually the time when all the local merchants have their end-of-year sales. So skiers, bikers, snowboarders, etc, can find some great deals, so the place is packed.

We discovered all of this information from the clerk at the Residence Inn in Whistler, which we have decided is infinitely a nicer place than the Residence Inn in Costa Mesa. We are on the 6th floor with a view of the mountains from out back patio. The city of Whistler also operates a free shuttle from the hotels to the Village, so we took advantage of that. The Village is their eating/shopping district and is closed to auto traffic. It is really a place full of energy, reminding us of a summer evening on Main Street in Huntington Beach. We visited the Araxi restaurant, which is where Hell's Kitchen is currently being filmed. We didn't eat there, partly because I refuse to eat at a place when I don't understand the ingredients as explained on the menu--40 dollar entrees need to be understood for me to order them. My son-in-law said we would be sorry if we didn't eat there. I assume that was a prediction, not a threat. We did eat at the Mongolie Grill, which is one of those places where you fill your bowl

with food from the selection at left, add sauces and give it to the chef, who grills it in front of you on a round grill. There is a place like it in HB at Garfield and Brookhurst, with a much smaller selection of foods. It's a lot like Fire and Ice, which is in Tahoe and Boston. The difference is that the chef actually weighs your food, and you pay $3.50 for each 100 grams of food--thats about $17 a pound. Mine was delicious--since I picked out the food myself, and we got out of there for about the cost of one entree at Araxi's. We did a little shopping afterward, found gifts for the girls, I bought a couple of logo t-shirts. We didn't buy Olympic gear, because it's amazingly overpriced to get logo stuff for the olympics. I know, I'm cheap. Speaking of cheap, Jan wanted to ride the gondola to the top of the hill, but I disappointed her by not being willing to pay $44 per person for one round trip. Another cool thing for bikers--they may have this elsewhere but Whistler is the first place I' ve seen it--they have a chair lift for bicycles, they take you and your bike up to the top of the hill, and then you ride the trails downhill. I think an all-day pass for that is $53.

Here is a shot of Whistler Village. This is definitely a place on my "revisit" list, as are most of the sights we saw on this trip.

Back to the states tomorrow. A couple of days on Whidbey Island with cousins, a few days in Salem with cousins, a couple of days in Portland with friends and family, then home, probably getting in late on the 21st. If it is possible for a vacation to exceed expectations, this one has done so.

Banff and Lake Louise

2009-10-07T17:22:00.000-07:00

I remember there was a Greek philosopher (don't remember which one), who theorized that he was the only person in the universe, because his awareness was the only reality he know. The function of every other person and thing in the universe was merely to complete his view and awareness of the cosmos. I'm sure I've butchered the essence of his philosophy, but as I understand it, if he were alive today, he would say that the AIDS crisis in Africa exists only if he actually witnesses it, and if he doesn't then it doesn't matter. For some reason I was thinking about this guy a lot today as we experienced another perfect day in Canada. It seemed as though God ordered the universe today, at least the part I was in, merely to please me. That's not as egocentric as it sounds. I just have a God that is powerful enough that, if He wanted to do such a thing, He could. We had early on decided that today would be the day that we visited Banff and Lake Louise, partly because the water in our condo was to be turned off all day (it's still not back on). But the weather was calling for snow all day today and tomorrow, and I wasn't feeling all that well, so we had kind of given up on that. Got up this morning and decided we would go as far as we could, until the Mounties or the weather told us to turn around. We did get some snow, but we also got a lot of sunshine--scenery so wonderful that breathtaking doesn't seem to do it justice. When we entered at the ranger station and asked if there was a chance of chains being needed, she said no, that it hadn't even begun to snow in the park. (Jan and I are phobic about driving in snow, dating back to a couple of mishaps when we were in college.). So as the day unfolded, I realized that when we made our reservations on May 1, God was setting things in motion so that we could have a perfect day on October 7.

When you enter the park, you are greeted by the sight at the top of this blog. It's called the castle, or castle cliffs, for obvious reasons. After about twenty minutes, you enter the town of Banff, a beautiful little alpine-looking city with a downtown pictured below.

It was snowing lightly, temperature was in the low 30s and once we found a restroom we began exploring and searching for a place to eat. We saw a subway, a Tony Roma's and an Old Spaghetti Factory, but we kind of rule out places that we could visit at home. (Hence the fascination with Cracker Barrel when we are out of California)

We finally settled on this place, the St James Gate Old Irish Pub. This must be a replica of one in Ireland, because those are the first pictures that came up when I searched. The interior is pictured below, and the place was just full of "atmosphere". The food was great also, and there was enough that is also serving as dinner tonight. Being an Irish pub, there were Irish sayings all over the walls. This was my favorite: AN IRISH CURSE:

"Lord, may those that love me, love me. And those that don't love me, turn their hearts. And those whose hearts you can't turn, turn their ankles, so I'll know them by their limping!" We ate at a couple of Irish pubs in Boston last summer, so this brought back memories of that great trip. When lunch started I had started to feel a little woozy again, and I told Jan that if I didn't feel better, we could get Lake Louise on the next trip. But after lunch and a trip to the drugstore for some more Advil sinus, I felt much better and we decided to go for it.

So, after saying goodbye to Banff, and realizing that it would be the subject of a much longer visit in the future, we headed back on the trans-Canada highway for Lake Louise. BTW, the roads were fabulous. The roads all the way into and through the park reminded me of the stretch of road from Bishop to Mammoth--not your typical, windy, narrow mountain roads that you experience at, say, Yosemite or Sequoia.

Part of the panorama on the way to Lake Louise is in the picture on the left, called the Ten Peaks. I didn't count them.

This picture is kind of blurry, (actually I accidentally deleted it, but Lake Louise is also in the picture at the bottom) but this is Lake Louise, at the northern end of Banff National Park. While it's blurry, the color of the water is exactly as pictured. Again, it was snowing lightly, just enough to entertain us Californians who never see it where we live. And since we aren't skiers, we usually don't even visit our local mountains when there is snow.

Finally, this is where we decided we want to stay next time we come!! This is the Fairmont Chateau Lake Louise, and we'll probably be able to afford it if my tax business reaches annual receipts in 6 figures!

What a perfect day it was, and I felt kind of guilty for worrying that it would be anything less.

Hoodoos, Golf and Vertigo

2009-10-06T19:14:00.001-07:00

The natives call these formations "Hoodoos". I don't think it's the same as Creedence's "Born on the Bayou"--"Chasin down the hoodoos there." but they are quite impressive up close. Sandstone cliffs with erosion that makes the cliff faces look almost like human faces. These hoodoos are about 10 minutes south of where we are staying in Fairmont Hot Sprins, British Columbia. It was about a 3-hour drive from our motel in Whitefish, Montana and we arrived here Saturday.

This is a picture of the condos where we are staying, Fairmont Villas at Riverside. It's a nice, spacious 2-bedroom and probably the nicest non-Marriott we have visited. We have the whole place to ourselves since our cousins and my sister we not able to join us. (Aside to Ben, Lisa, Karen and Jay--you missed it!!!) There is a full kitchen, 2 jacuzzi tubs, the best shower ever, and spectacular views. We are here until Friday and then we head on to Whistler to see the preparations for the Winter Olympics. Units have barbecues on the back porch (which overlooks a river and a golf course) and I cooked some delicious top sirloins for dinner tonight.

To the right is pretty much the view greeting us when we walk out our front door. Those are the Canadian Rockies. Banff is on the other side of them, and we were hoping to get to go there sometime this week. Thay may not happen because of some health issues described below, but we are still hoping. If not this trip, the next one, because we have already decided this is a place we want to revisit.

There are 3 golf courses on the property, 2 full 18-hole courses, Mountainside and Riverside (names are self-explanatory) and a 9-hold par-3 course called Riverside. Jan brought her clubs, and since it's been about 4 years since she played, we chose to play Creekside. We had lunch at the Mountainside clubhouse. That course was still fairly busy even though it is obviously off-season, and in the pro shop I overheard the starter discussing (with a couple getting ready to tee off) how to deal with a brown bear sighting!

So we teed off at Creekside, and concentration was sometimes difficult thanks to views like the one to the left. The course itself was not that challenging, with most of the distances in the 110 yard range for me, but it was perfect for Jan's reintroduction to golf. Highlight of her day was sinking a 40-foot putt on #2. Since the course was not that crowded, I sometimes played more than one ball, with the goal of shooting a best ball of 60 or better--so I can say I've shot lower than my age. I struggled on the first time through with a 33, but had 6 pars and 2 birdies the second time for a 26 and a score of 59!! For you OC golfers, the greens were a bit slow--that's an exaggeration. The made Willowick seem lightning quick. Kind of reminded me of the greens at Ridgeline in Orange, which is no more. Though I played well, I began to get lightheaded and dizzy every time I reached down to tee up or pick up my ball. (I haven't included pictures of the next part, for understandable reasons). I think the adrenaline of playing minimized the effects, but once we were done and in the car, the dizziness and nausea set in, and I headed straight for the couch. Readers of my earlier blogs know how ill I have to be to allow myself to lose my lunch, but this was the closest I have come in many, many years. Actually had to crawl to the bathroom because the room was spinning so much. Dinner consisted of soda crackers and diet Pepsi.

Woke up a little better today, but not well enough to try to go to Banff. Ate lunch at the clubhouse and went from dizzy to tired, so came back and took a 3-hour nap. Jan found some Advil sinus at the store and that has seemed to help. Since snow is forecast for tomorrow and Thursday, and I have no desire to drive in the stuff, we may have to forego Banff and Lake Louise for this trip. Friday we head for Whistler with a stop at Kamloops Friday night, and that will include driving through Glacier NP of Canada. If it's even close in beauty to Glacier in Montana it will be a wonderful trip.

The Perfect Vacation

2009-10-04T20:21:00.000-07:00

We've been on the road for 9 days now, and if it is possible for a vacation to be perfect, then that's what we have so far. Jan won money in Vegas, and we are still living on that. Utah was unbelievably beautiful, and I've posted pictures that kind of scratch the surface on that. It was our 3rd trip to Bryce Canyon, but our first to Zion, and we now understand what all the fuss is about. It's amazing how different they are, and beautiful in their own way. The night in Whitefish MT was great, tho we had such a long drive yesterday we wound up not going to Glacier. Also was hoping to see former students Janice and Brett, but they had parents weekend at, ironically my alma mater, Point Loma in San Diego. So I guess that means it wasn't perfect perfect.

Had one of those serendipitous moments yesterday on the way to our condo in Canada, that I thought I would share. We had been in Canada for about an hour, and were a little hungry, and the road we were taking didn't offer a lot of choices. We came down into a town called Canal Flats, which is very close to the Columbia River, and saw a restauarant called Fire Valley, so we stopped there. As I looked at the prices on the menu, I realized that since we were in Canada, I had no idea how much money we were spending! The waitress--there was only one to service the 8 or so tables--was in the middle of putting up Hallowe'en decorations, and seemed kind of put out to be interrupted. there were a couple of other groups, obviously locals, and they were chatting. We ordered, our meals were great, and as we were finishing up, 5 Dodge minivans pulled up, and people began piling out of all the doors, and it was obvious they were on their way in. The locals started laughing, and the waitress said, "Quick, lock the doors." The group piled in, and to add to the confusion, none of them were speaking English--or French. Turns out they were a group traveling together from Germany, and it was obvious their English was very limited. Since we were almost done, we just used the situation for entertainment!! (We did offer to help, but got a "no thanks"). For example, it took a couple of minutes for the waitress to get one guy to figure out she wanted him to choose between white and "brown" toast. There were about 25 in the party in all, and they filled every other table in the restaurant. One couple, obviously locals, walked in, surveyed the scene, and walked out. As we finally paid and left, she still hadn't gotten all their meals cooked and delivered.
Arrived at our resort, Fairmont Hot Springs at Riverside. It's a rather large timeshare development, with 3 golf courses on site. Our villa is very nice, 2 bedroom 2 bath, full kitchen, washer and dryer. Our front windows contain a breathtaking view of the Canadian Rockies, and out on our back porch is a river and one of the golf courses. We pretty much have done nothing in the day and a half we have been here, in fact I never left the villa today.
Tomorrow is driving range and maybe some golf. We will probably go to Banff and Lake Louise on Wednesday, especially after learning our water will be turned off all day. We'll also go through Canada's Glacier Park, which hopefully will make up for missing the one in Montana this time.
Still on tap a trip to Whistler to see their preps for the winter olympics (and Jeff told Jan to check out the place where Hell's Kitchen is being taped), then down the coast on a 2-week meander home.

This Was My Day

2009-09-28T18:07:00.001-07:00

Figure I saved about 5,000 words.

Things I learned this Week

2009-09-25T10:33:00.001-07:00

Been an interesting week as we get ready for vacation. I've learned 3 things I didn't know before.

1. When your refrigerator gets noisy, it's not necessary to go buy a new one. Sunday night our fan in the freezer got very loud, then stopped, and was then noisy again Monday morning. Then it stopped altogether, and the food in the freezer started to get warm. Called GE, scheduled an appointment for Thursday, and prepared for the worst. Had a brainstorm--called my friend Bret in Portland, who works with refrigeration for a living, and told him the symptoms. He said it was likely the seal on the door was compromised, the fan was drawing in moisture from the outside, and that was freezing. The noise results from ice encroaching on the fan. The coil then goes into defrost mode--thus the warming--until it frees itself of ice, then refreezes everything. Upon checking, I discovered a refrigerator magnet lodged into the rubber seal. Used hair dryer to melt some ice, noise stopped and I figured we were good. Noise returned next morning. Upon lifting some things, discovered inch-thick ice around the coil and fan. Thought maybe ice maker was leaking as well. Emptied freezer, used knife and blow dryer to get rid of all the ice, and she's been purring like a kitten ever since. Cancelled appointment, probably saving myself hundreds of dollars.

2. Malfunctioning toilet fill doesn't mean buying a new one. I probably would have just gone out and bought a new one, since it's about 5 years old and keeps leaking into the tank. Discovered this was different type than I was used to, so did some in-tank research. Discovered rubber seal had come loose, reset the seal, no problems since. Probably saved about 12 bucks.

3. If you plan to get fingerprinted in HB, don't do it on a weekend. Thought my clearance to e-file with IRS was done, but filed an extended return that got rejected this week. Spent a couple of hours online and on the phone, discovered there's an EFIN number I have to get from IRS, and to get that I need to be fingerprinted. So I moseyed down to HBPD today. Learned they only do fingerprints on Tue-Thur, by appointment only. My first though was, "So if I get arrested on a Friday, you keep me until Tuesday just to do my fingerprints?" Then I had a more rational thought--from Friday thru Monday they are probably too busy doing involuntary fingerprints to have time for law-abiding citizens such as I. They did have a list of places, and I found a place on Beach that did walk-ins on Friday--for $20 each. Went there, discovered he only does electronic fingerprints. He gave me the name of a place about a mile away--and she was out for the morning. I'm thinking now of just waiting until we have a few days in Brian Head, or even until we get back. Can't wait until I have to go through it all again to substitute teach. At least I learned what my options are.

So, for someone who has the goal of being a lifelong learner, it's been a pretty productive week!

Retirement Party Thoughts

2009-09-20T19:23:00.000-07:00

Had my retirement party last night. We waited until September for a couple of reasons. First, as a teacher, not working would not really hit until school was back in session. Secondly, I figured more people would be able to attend once school was back in session. I was right on the first count, wrong on the second.
Thanks to facebook, I invited close to 400 people directly, and 700 indirectly. We got confirmations from about 70 people and a few more "maybes" so we decided to order food for 100 people. Wendy, one of my former students is a wedding planner, organized almost all of the event, and has a deathly fear of running out of food. My fear was ordering food for a large number and having the event attended by a small number. Turns out my fears came true. While not getting an actual head count, I think there were about 40 people total, and fewer than 10 of those were former students. Jan's first words when we got in the car were, "are you disappointed?" Honestly, yes. Also honestly, I had a great time with every single person who took the time to come. That's what I'm taking away. My spiritual Enemy was whispering the whole night, "Only 7? I guess the last 36 years of your life didn't amount to much." If I take the approach that the party was all about me and validating my career, he would be right. Had lots of time to think about it before and during the festivities (caterer was an hour late to boot), and decided that the Enemy, by definition, is a liar.
So I'm not going to focus on who didn't come. Many sent their regrets, and I cannot argue with their reasons--tho not wanting to drive from North Carolina or Mississippi seem to be pretty weak excuses to me!! I'm going to focus on who DID come, and what they mean to me.

First of all, every member of my immediate family was there, except Jolie, who had a sleepover, and I'll see her tomorrow and I have no doubt about how she feels about her grampa. Jeff and Jen came even though Jeff's 20th high school reunion was also yesterday. Tim and Anne drove in from Riverside to be there, even though they have to drive in from Riverside every day of the week for work.
My sister and brother in law drove down from Shaver Lake Friday, so we had a great weekend with them. My nephew Brian drove down from Fresno with his oldest and youngest, Hannah and Jacob, even though he had to drive back last night so as not to miss Caleb and Emma's soccer games. That made me feel really special, especially when Hannah decided to stay and spent the night with us, along with Jeslyn. Nephew Jeff came with Brian, making the trip from Seattle. The only one missing from that group was nephew Todd, and we spent an hour on the phone as he expressed his regrets at not being able to come from Vancouver, WA.
The Thorns, friends from our former church, took the time to come. Scott and Leslie met and married while they were members of our singles class, have 4 beautiful daughters, and we spent precious time with them, and look forward to attending the girls water polo matches at Pacifica and maybe Long Beach State if Kirsten makes the team as a walk-on. Leslie took care of Jolie when she was a baby and her sister Robyn took care of Jeslyn, so our girls have a strong bond that was still evident last night.
Eric, worship pastor at our former church came, along with Alyssa and Jacob. That was really meaningful, and further cemented an already strong friendship. It was good to watch the Thorns and Hendricksons interract with the Russells and Tim and Anne.
Cheryl Denio was there. Cheryl Denio was in charge of the attendance office for the 24 years I was Tustin High School, has been retired awhile, and planted a seed when she pointed out she went sky diving for the first time at age 70. I think she would win my award for "most surprising attendee."
Tom Tallman was another colleague that was there. Tom taught with me at THS until 1982, and is now subbing quite a bit in the district. He was my automatic sub any time I needed one last year and it has been great to renew our friendship.
There were 3 students from the Tustin class of 1980. Wendy, who planned the party and did a great job. She worked tirelessly to get things ready and running, stayed long after to tie up the loose ends, and did all without compensation as a "labor of love for my teacher." Cynthia, who I actually have known less than a year. She went to dinner with Wendy and I a few months ago, is one of my biggest blog supporters, and took the great pictures that she's posted on fb from last night. Feel like I've known her forever. Andrew, who played basketball for me in 1978, made a special effort to come, and we talked away quite a bit of the evening. Again, I haven't seen him since he graduated from THS, yet it was important to him to come to this event.
Lisa, Renee and Mark came from the class of '82. I've kept up with Mark recently through his FB posts, used to bowl with Lisa a couple of years ago, and Renee was the statistician for a lot of the teams I coached. Great to see them.
The only Foothill alum to come was Chloe. I had her for 2 years in math, she was a great softball player at Foothill and is now playing for Cal State Fullerton. She brought a card which told me, 'I wouldn't have made it through high school without you.'
Jerry showed up, in his sheriff's uniform, having just gotten off duty--thus a couple of pretty funny pics taken by Cynthia. Jerry was Tustin '78, and his daughter was in my Algebra 2 class this past year at Foothill, and will be a big player in the Foothill basketball program this year. Jerry is one of my heroes, having taken a couple of bullets in the line of duty for OCSD, and it was really special that he came.
Scott A, one of the Foothill campus supervisors and coaches, came after attending a funeral. Scott and I go way back, he having been in my sunday school class in high school and college and also on recent bowling teams. He and his family are very special to me.
Heather and Darren came even tho they have a new home and Heather is expecting their first child in a month or so. Heather was Tustin '89, and I've blogged about her before. Her presence made the evening complete. Good also to spend some time with Darren--they are still relative newlyweds, and the wedding was not a time for us to get acquainted. He's a social science major, which in the current climate means "no jobs available" but he's recently gotten a full-time non-classroom position at Tustin High, and is coaching football. It was great to listen to them testify to God's provision during this time of economic uncertainty in education.
Hope I haven't left anyone out. If I did, I blame a senior moment.
So, if you are one of the people who said they were coming, the only thing you missed was getting your name in this blog.
My friend Kristi has a phrase called Spiritual Spice, which I think means finding a spiritual interpretation for events that seem non-spiritual. I think it applies here. I could choose to listen to the voice that wants to minimize my career based on the number of people who showed up for my party. To do that would be the same as those who choose to judge Jesus based on the actions of some of his followers. Instead, I choose to be thankful for those who enriched my life by their appearance last night. Just as I choose to love Jesus based on the blessings he has provided, and the friends I have who demonstrate his love by their daily service. Yes, it hurt that some didn't value their commitment enough to attend (it hurt emotionally AND financially!). Again, such is human nature--we hurt each other. In this case I'm sure the hurt was unintentional, but nonetheless real. We are not perfect. If I choose to base my value on the quantity rather than the quality of last night's turnout, I would feel badly. I choose to base my value on the fact that my saviour loves me enough to die for me, as would many of the people in the room last night. And vice versa. And that's enough.

Fly 'til California

2009-08-31T07:49:00.000-07:00

Welcome as we Fly 'til California

Not a lovely pace

(towards this lovely place)

No extra room on the flight to California

Seems it took a year

Just to fly us here.

The one thing I would have changed about vacationing in Hawaii would be the fact that our church had their "Summer with the Eagles" series while we were gone, capped by a cover concert this past Saturday night. Worship leader Kristi T listed Hotel California as her favorite song in the concert, and it's also my favorite Eagles song ever. So I was thinking of the concert on the flight home and as it turned out there were many events on the flight that reminded me of the song lyrics.

I WAS THINKING TO MYSELF, THIS COULD BE HEAVEN

Delta has followed Jet Blue in providing individual in-flight entertainment screens with movies, TV and music offerings. Since the TV option is not available on Hawaii flights, the on-demand movies are free. I watched 2 movies on the way over, and was all set to watch "Hannah Montana" on the flight home (so as to have a point of reference with my grandchildren). Alas, it had been 2 weeks so that was no longer an option, so I opted for "The Hangover". I had heard it was funny, and it was. I don't laugh a lot at movies and this one had me really cackling.

OR THIS COULD BE HELL

About an hour into the movie, the plane's entertainment system crashed. I was right at the part where Alan started winning at blackjack to try to get the 80 grand ransom for Doug. The system would remain down for the rest of the flight. For some reason, it also included the overhead reading light. I also was informed that the only item I wished to purchase from the menu was sold out (We haven't had that snack here since 1969). With no movie came no sound in my headset, so I then became aware of the rather large family occupying 3 rows across from us. There was mom, dad, 3 kids under 4, a few aunts, and grandma. (Her mind was tiffany twisted, more on that later). The two youngest were both screaming. The 2 year old boy was upset because daddy was holding him, preventing him from running up and down the aisles. Daddy eventually gave in, and aunt #1 spent some time chasing him after being alerted by Jan that he had escaped.

YOU CAN CHECK OUT ANY TIME YOU LIKE

Since it was Sunday afternoon, I decided to take a nap--even though I had no golf tournament on TV to help put me under. I think I was under for about an hour.

THIS COULD BE HELL, continued

Slept enough to take the edge off, so had to depend on the family across the aisle for the rest of my in-flight "entertainment". Jan made a circular motion with her finger, around her ear, and pointed to grandma. Evidently while I was sleeping grandma had escaped, running up to first class before being captured by the same aunt. I decided that the adults had flipped to see who sat by the kids and who sat by grandma, and this aunt lost the flip. Grandma was in her seat as I awoke, screaming louder than any of the toddlers, complete with hand gestures. She was speaking in a language not familiar to me, pointing to the ceiling. I'm thinking maybe she was saying, "Why is it I'm the only adult on the plane whose reading light still works, and I have no desire to read?" I also decided that the family was moving to America in hopes that all they had heard about national health care was true and they could put grandma in front of a death panel. Meanwhile the baby was screaming, the two year old was jumping up and down in his seat, and dad had gone to sleep. Soon the sun set, we could no longer read, and were facing another 2 hours of what flying used to be like.

UP AHEAD IN THE DISTANCE, WE SAW THE GLIMMERING LIGHTS

LA eventually came into view, and the lights of the city were outshone by the Altadena fire. As troublesome as the fires are, they provided a temporary respite from in-cabin activities.

BUT YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE

Momma eventually got the baby quieted down, first by changing her dirty diaper in-seat, then sitting her on the tray table and playing patty cake. She was actually giggling. Unfortunately, this also enterained the 4 year old, who was so overjoyed that his sister wasn't screaming, he decided it was his turn to show he could scream louder. It didn't matter that it was happy screams instead of sad screams. Dad woke up, pointed a finger at him, and went back to sleep. I decided that if I were still teaching 10 years from now, this boy would be in my math class.

BUT YOU JUST CAN'T KILL THE BEAST(s)

Finally landed, at a runway that must have been inside the Santa Monica city limits, so we had a 15-minute taxi to our aisle, followed by a 15-minute wait for a tow to the gate. Grandma escaped again, and aunt #1 just followed her trying to minimize the injuries. Lots of pretty pretty boys who apparently didn't understand English were ignoring the attendants' directives to remain seated, roaming the aisles as they had done for most of the flight. The attendant directed the boys back to their seats. She didn't even bother trying with grandma. By this time I had decided to blog about this experience. I also decided that the one thing that would have made it better would have been if my funny friend Heidi had been on board to write about it. These kinds of things usually happen to her.

HAD TO GET MY SPIRIT BACK TO THE PLACE I WAS BEFORE

In spite of all this, I was home. Vacation is nice, but home is nicer, especially since it has now kicked in that I am really retired. Since Jeff and Jen are working already, and the girls are not in school yet, I knew they were already asleep at my house and we would be spending the day with them. So,

LAST THING I REMEMBER, I WAS RUNNING FOR THE DOOR

Hawaii, part 4

2009-08-26T19:31:00.000-07:00

We flew over to Maui Monday afternoon, to spend a week at the Westin Kaanipali Villas. It was part of a package we purchased when we were here last summer, not really intending to buy another timeshare but thinking the price was pretty good for a week at a luxury hotel. Jan opted for a convertible for the week, and since she was thinking she might want to drive to Hana, we added her as a second driver. It's interesting to me-she has a great love for convertibles, but then with her fair skin, she has to hide from the sun when the top is down. The one irksome thing with the car (Alamo) was that we pre-paid for a full tank of gas. The needle was on full when we picked it up, but the 25-mile drive to Kaanipali left it at 3/4 full. So I'm either getting 6 MPG, or it was a couple gallons short of full. The check-in process also did not leave us happy. Part of the problem was that we had just left our "home" at the Marriott Ko Olina resort, and so every part of the day was compared to what would have happened there. We checked in at the "wrong" lobby, so they checked us in but couldn't issue our keys, which means we had to stand in line again at the "right" lobby. We are in what they call a studio villa, which in timeshare language is a lock-off unit. There are 2 areas where Westins are clearly superior to Marriott. The first is that their lock-off units have a small kitchen, and so far we have been very good about cooking in. Our only meal out was Monday night at the Hard Rock in Lahaina. The second area is that their reward points have greater value than Marriott's do. We are on the 6th floor, with a partial ocean view, so we are very happy with the unit. Negatives are that food prices are roughly 15% higher than Marriott, and the quality isn't close. Also, they charge $10 if you want to rent a beach lounge (pool lounges are free).
Meanwhile, the kid's trip home was safe, but not without incident. Jennifer spent a lot of time shopping on Oahu for a special scented soap that she likes. Unfortunately she had it in her carryon, and since it was larger than 3 ounces, security confiscated it. Jennifer teaches Chemistry and so I'm sure that she had used her knowledge to create a soap bomb to blow up the aircraft--with her on it. Oh, well, at least the security people will smell nice for awhile.

Maui is not our favorite island, but I had forgotten how incredibly clear the ocean water is here at Kaanipali. Went swimming yesterday, and then went to the ABC store today to buy some cheap snorkle gear today. Part of the culture here is that people go out at 9 am and leave their towels on one of the chairs under an umbrella, then go back to their room and come out in the afternoon. Kind of irritating when you are a morning sun person like Jan. Also irritating for her is my penchant for acquiring sand when I go to the beach--I'm sure no one else has that problem. God forbid that I don't get it off at the outside showers and track a few grains into the room.
Yesterday we attended our obligatory timeshare preview. The incentives were very enticing, but Westin prices are a little rich for our blood, especially since we don't really know yet what our cash flow situation will be in these early stages of retirement. There was no pressure, but it amazes me how much the sales force chats you up while they think there's a chance you will buy. Once they have a definite "no" it's a very quick, "Nice talking to you. Bye."

Jeff posted the trip pictures on Facebook today, and I borrowed a picture of Jen and I parasailing and used it as my profile pic. Jen just called with the news that Jeslyn got to ring the "attagirl" bell twice at gymnastics tonight, Jolie's rash is gone, but she had to have a cavity filled for the first time. So while we love being on vacation, we are missing our grandkids and also the FCC Eagles concert this weekend. So going home will be good, too.

Kind of a boring post, wasn't it?

Hawaii, part 3.

2009-08-24T10:11:00.000-07:00

There were some highlights from the last few days on Oahu with the kids. While the girls love the swimming pool, they are not too fond of the ocean. So it was with some apprehension that Jen and Jeff signed the 5 of us up for parasailing on Friday. Jan would love to parasail, but we have to find one that doesn't involve riding a boat to get to the parasailing spot. Jen and I had been parasailing before, she when she was 10 on the Big Island, and then both of us went on Lake Shasta 15 or more years ago. In classic Disneyland language, both were "A" tickets. That's what we kept telling the girls--it will be calm, serene and breathtakingly beautiful. Friday, however, happened to be an extremely windy day all over Oahu, and that changed the nature of the parasailing to at least a "C" ticket. This was a parasailing company that sent people up in pairs, and it may be because of the prevailing winds. We were the last in line, and we watched the wind send the parachute careening across the sky whenever it was feeling playful. This was not good for Jolie, who doesn't like heights and usually has to be coaxed by Jeff to try anything new. In another life, Jeslyn would be the explorer and Jolie would write about her sister's adventures. It was determined that Jeff would go up with both girls, and that they would travel downwind to try to lessen the wind's influence. So Jen and I went up together, and it was more fun than the last time, while being a little more tense also. There were a couple of times when it really felt like the chute was going to corkscrew. It's a tradition that toward the end of the ride, the boat stops and lets the chute settle down and the riders get wet, and sometimes dunked. So when that happened, we hit the water, the boat started, we went up a couple of feet, the wind decided she wasn't done with us yet, dunked us again and we got dragged for what seemed like 2 miles--probably about 10 feet. Watching that also didn't do much for Jolie's confidence. Their turn came, Jeff was stationed between them and they took off. Jeslyn's face looked like she had just heard her doctor had put her on an ice cream diet. Jolie's face reflected that, if she had known exactly how long the ride would be, she would have been counting down the seconds--with her eyes closed. They got pushed around a bit, got dunked, and then were reeled in. Jolies face on landing was a mix of fear and relief, Jeslyn was big smiles and thumbs up--probably knowing that picture-taking was involved. Her first words were, "I want to do that again." I can't remember if Jolie spoke until we docked, except to answer questions about her condition. I was really proud of her parents for taking time to validate both girls on the trip in, and to the car. They especially thanked Jolie for trying, knowing how much she didn't want to do it. Jolie rode with us to our next stop, and when I described the events to Jan, Jolie just said, "It just goes to show that people are different, even in the same family." Not better or worse, just different. And she's OK with that. More importantly, her parents are OK with that. I'm proud of both my grandgirls, and really proud of her parents for embracing their differences and not trying to turn one into the other. Just as we all wish Jolie enjoyed the thrill stuff as much as her sister, it would sometimes be nice if her sister emulated her desire to please and stay out of trouble!!
We then went to "Made in Hawaii," a swap-meet like trade show featuring items that were--made in Hawaii. One footnote to the day was that was Admissions Day--the 50th anniversary of Hawaii's statehood. As such there were demonstrations by a small group of native Hawaiians, who want Hawaii to become sovereign again. There was some irony in the fact that there would a couple of booths that sold items that catered to this desire--ironic in that if the demonstrators got their wishes, no one would need to buy the shirts that expressed that desire.

Sunday morning had one semi-comic incident that was somewhat related to the whole "Hawaii for Hawaiians," theme. We were at breakfast at Lulu's on Waikiki. It was crowded and the wait staff was hard pressed to keep up. We were waiting to order, and our server was literally running around the restaurant trying to keep everyone happy. As it turned out, the table next to us had a couple that got tired of waiting, got up to leave and was very vocal in expressing their displeasure. What followed was an exchange that served as entertainment for the rest of us.
Waiter: "I'm sorry you aren't my only table. I have 6 tables to wait on."
Man: "We've been waiting forever."
Waiter: "Sorry again," (as he was ripping up their check--not sure if they had drinks, or a meal, and he was upset because they stiffed him)
Man: "We should be a priority--we LIVE here."
Waiter: "All the more reason for you to be understanding." (Implying a reality to the concept of the "aloha spirit").
He kept yelling at their backs as they departed. Then he would confide in us since we were next to that table, were a party of six whose orders hadn't even been taken, and seemed none the worse for wear. I found myself wondering if the man was angry because the wait might make him late for church!! Our meals were finally ordered, delivered and consumed, the bill arrived and we discovered that we hadn't been charged for our drinks. Since juices were $4 each, and coffee was also involved it was a significant amount. I was thinking that many would have quickly paid and left before the oversight was discovered, saying the waiter deserved to pay for his mistake. We held the check, pointed it out to him, and let him make the decision. We, too, were facing a deadline--we were a few minutes from checkout time at our hotel, and he finally came back and said, "Never mind, but thank you for your honesty." I left thinking that, if we WERE locals and ate there often, we would have had a better chance of getting him to listen about spiritual things than the dressed-for-church couple that stormed out earlier.

So we got on our plane to Maui, and the kids are flying home later today. Right now, this ranks as our best vacation ever, for many reasons. Not the least of these reasons is knowing I'm not flying home to go back to work. I realized yesterday I've been more relaxed than on any previous vacation, probably for that reason. I am most richly blessed.

Hawaii,part two--Roy's

2009-08-20T11:02:00.000-07:00

My Regular readers (both of you) know what an expert I am on ballet. Today I will expand and share my knowledge of fine dining. This is not an knowledge I was born with. I can remember my mom wanting to walk out of a restaurant because the hamburgers were up to $1.99. I never ate at a restaurant with prices in double figures until Jan's parents took us to the Miramar in Santa Cruz. So all of my knowledge has been acquired late in life.

Yesterday we went to our obligatory timeshare preview. Jan and I wanted to look into the idea of an equity trade of our two bedroom for a 3-bedroom. Though we love our many friends, we felt none of them warranted the $20,000 it would cost to add another bedroom. Anyway, there are a number of "incentives" to attend the meeting, and we chose the $75 gift certificate to Roy's Hawaiian Fusion (bet you didn't know that was the full name). Jen and Jeff chose the same, and we were planning to get reservations for Thursday evening. They called about 6 while still at the beach, said they wanted to go at 7 Wednesday night. Jan called, was told we either had to come at 6:30 or after 8, and she chose 6:30. By that time it was 6:10 and the Russells were still at the beach. Rule #1 about fine dining establishments: When they tell you there are no spots left at a certain time, they are lying!!! We got there at 6:30, were seated at 6:45 and the Russells showed up at 7-at which time the restaurant was still nearly empty.

We were seated at a table right next to the kitchen (in the actual kitchen, not around back where the indigent wait for leftovers), and the other adults were very excited about that location. See, Jen, Jeff and Jan are fans of "Iron Chef" and "Hell's Kitchen" so they fully expected the chefs to provide the evening's entertainment. They were greatly disappointed for 2 reasons: 1. There was no voice-over description and critique of the food being prepared, or a discussion of the chef's strategy. 2. At no point did the master chef scream "Get out of my kitchen," and shut the place down. There was one chef who shouted out the orders, but there was no verbal confirmation that the instructions had been heard. So the only entertainment was watching Jolie and Jeslyn discover edamame.

Drink orders were taken, menus delivered, and it was obvious our gift certificates would cover about half the check. Rule #2: At fine dining establishments like Roy's, it is not a good idea to ask about substitutions. I learned this the hard way the last time we were there, and was told that the chef prepares each meal as a unit, and substitutions would be taken as a personal affront and probably result in the chef accosting me at my table. So I didn't make that mistake this time.

Jen and Jeff shared the potstickers, showing off by eating them with chopsticks. I ordered the tomato BLT soup, and as Jolie has inherited my tastebuds, shared it with her. Jolie loves her grampa--we shared the lanai for breakfast yesterday, and though not a word was spoken it was a great beginning to the day. So, her motto with food is, "If grampa likes it (or makes it) I like it." Jeslyn on the other hand has a pretty standard, "No thank you," when I offer her food.

Jen and I ordered the rib eye--which took care of one of the gift certificates. It came with something starting with "L" which we were told is a cube of french bacon that the chef can't be troubled to slice for you. (Asking questions about the sides is OK as long as you don't then try to change them). There was something else, which I was told was Japanese spinach. Now I had already decided to have the ribeye, so I decided that I would try the spinach. This represents great growth on my part--when I was 8 my friends mom tried to make me eat her boiled spinach, and shoved it into my mouth. Being the sharing person I am, I then deposited a little spinach on everyone else's plate, without even using my hands. There were also caramelized pearl onions, and as a bonus, some fried flaked potatoes that weren't even on the menu. The steak was topped by a mushroom burgundy sauce. I shared my mushrooms with Jen, but used my fork this time. (Fine dining rule #3 is ongoing throughout the meal--Don't even TRY to empty your water glass before a hovering steward comes and fills it back up.)

Jan ordered a filet, which was half the size of our ribeye and cost a dollar more. Her "sides" were two different dipping sauces. Also there were scalloped potatoes and beets. Even though she trained be in fine dining, she didn't eat her beets. Anyone who has even looked at beets knows that was a good decision.

To the left is 3/4 of Jeff's meal. He started by saying, "I have a craving for sushi." I blame his church friends. He elected something called "Fantastic Four" or some such name. Rule #4. Even fine dining establishments can have tacky names for their entrees. The meal consisted of 4 types of fish, including raw. His meal was a couple of bucks cheaper, probably because there were no sides. He pretended to love each type. Jennifer also tasted and raved about the Opah--why would they name a fish after a grandparent?

While we were eating the waiter brought the dessert menu. At fine dining restaurants you have to order dessert early because the chefs take a half hour to prepare dessert--probably because the master chef isn't screaming at them to hurry up. Our certificates came with complimentary dessert, so we tried to pick two that could be shared by all.

There is no picture of the first one, the macadamia nut tart, because Jeff finished it before we had a chance to get the camera out. It smelled pretty good. To the left is the other dessert, the chocolate raspberry souffle. You can see the raspberry swirl and the vanilla bean ice cream. The souffle consists of a chocolate crust, filled with (Hawaii being a volcano state and all) molten chocolate. I shared this with Jen, Jan, Jeslyn and Jolie. They all enjoyed their bite.

So, I had a bowl of soup, a 16-ounce steak which I finished, two 2-inch cubes of bacon, spinach, potatoes, and most of the chocolate souffle. Since I am gaining weight on the trip without eating dessert, I stepped on the scale this morning with great fear. Lost a pound.

Hawaii, part one

2009-08-18T20:59:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in the living room on my computer. Jolie is reading Nancy Drew, volume 20-something. Jeslyn is reading, "I know an old lady Who Swallowed a Pie," to Grandma Jan. Jennifer is getting ready to make dinner. This scene COULD take place in our house, but it actually is in our 7th-floor condo at Marriott's Ko Olina Beach Club on Oahu. I've heard pros and cons about timeshare ownership, but the greatest thing for me is that they allow 3-generation vacations, all living in the same place. This is the second time the kids have been here with us, and we've also been to Kauai, Hilton Head, and Lake Tahoe with them.
Flew in late Saturday night, and Sunday was mostly acclimating. Ko Olina has added another tower, with a new pool, and the new pool caters much more to kids, with a lavatube water slide and waterfalls to swim through. So the girls spent much of Sunday afternoon and evening there.
Monday we make our annual trek to the Dole Plantation and the North Shore. Dole plantation is not a highlight for me, but Jan found some bargains at the quilt shop and Jen and Jolie made it through the maze in 37 minutes. I drowned my sorrow in a bad cheeseburger, fries, and some pineapple macadamia nut cheesecake. (I'm gaining a pound a day so far). Then we went into Haleiwa to stop at Giovanni's Shrimp Shack. For those of you who know it, no explanation is necessary. For those who don't, imagine first a "roach coach", except it's parked in the same place and never moves. It is covered with graffiti, as everyone who visits there tries to find room to add their name in marking pen. The menu is small, 3 types of broiled shrimp--lemon butter, scampi and "hot". There is even a warning that the "hot" is really "hot" and no refunds will be given if it's too hot for you. For $13 you get 12 of these. They also have a garlic hot dog, and canned soft drinks. So I got a hot dog, since it had been at least a half hour since my burger and cheesecake. It was really good. Jeff had me try some of his "hot" and I ate 3. My mouth burned about an hour for each one. But I'd go again in a heartbeat.
Then off to the North Shore, stopping first just past Sunset Beach, where about 30 green sea turtles come in to sun themselves each afternoon. There are lifeguards--or perhaps volunteers--who stand guard over the turtles, making sure no one disturbs the ones who make it up on the sand to sleep and sun themselves. We learned last year that during this sleep, the turtles heartbeat slows to something like 2 beats per hour. If they are disturbed during this time, when they go back out to sea they are too tired to make it to their underwater hiding places and fall asleep on the surface, making them easy prey for the sharks waiting for such an opportunity.
We then went on past Waimea to another relatively uncrowded beach, and the water got deep fairly quickly. This provided a new opportunity for Jolie and Jeslyn. The beach at Huntington is relatively shallow, so they never get far enough out to actually swim in the water because they can't get past the pounding surf. Here, there was a small shorebreak, but they spent much time in the deeper water, swimming to mommy, daddy and grampa. They then went in and got their first practice body surfing in the small shorebreak, and that was a great thing for me to watch as they had so much fun and their fear of the water and the surf is nearly gone.
Back to Ko Olina where I cooked tacos for dinner and the kids went back to the pool.
Today we left gramma--too much sun yesterday--in the condo and drove across the island to Kailua. Jeff has friends there, and one owns and is remodeling a house on a private beach. There's a storm supposed to hit in a couple of days, so the surf was much bigger than the previous day. This beach is much like Huntington--very shallow for a long way out--but the waves are more suited to body boarding. We were able to go out a hundred yards or so and ride all the way to the sand. Jolie and Jeslyn also made strides on their body boards. Both had one big wipeout. Jolie got right back up and tried it again. Jeslyn blamed hers on daddy and vowed never to speak to him again. Back home for another 3 hours in the pool.
So, it's a great time in a great place. Most of my friends are jealous, and for those that aren't it's not for my lack of trying to make them jealous--see previous post! But the paradise-like setting is not really the main attraction. For this blessed grampa, the settings provide benchmarks for my grandchildren's lives. Four years ago on Kauai, neither of the girls would venture into the ocean, and would not leave the side of the 2-foot-deep "baby pool." Then at Hilton Head, much of the same. Two years ago at Tahoe, they went into the water with their "noodles" and let daddy flip them, as long as he was there to pick them up, since they were still not close to being water safe. Last year at Ko Olina, they used their noodles to paddle to deep water, again as long as daddy or grampa was close by. This year they swam in the ocean, body surfed, bodyboarded, went down the waterslide, and may wind up even snorkeling. And we still have another 5 days to go. Then they fly home to get ready for school, and Jan and I are off to Maui. Both of us are trying to figure out how to combat boredom next week. When it comes right down to it, most of life's perks lose much of their attraction without friends and family with whom to share.

Out of Circulation

2009-08-17T12:19:00.000-07:00

Haven't blogged in awhile. Been getting ready to go to Hawaii. In Hawaii now. You're probably not. Sorry. Talk to you soon.

Happy Birthday to my Kids

2009-08-06T09:13:00.000-07:00

Today is the anniversary of two of the greatest days of my life. First, August 6, 1973, when Jennifer was born, then August 6, 1977 when Tim came into the world. The above picture is from a few years ago, but it's symbolic of their relationship. I can't imagine 2 siblings being any closer. It's become somewhat of a family joke that when we have gatherings for the extended family the rest of us are just accessories to the brother-sister get-together. And nothing could make me happier.
Jen was born in Pasadena and it was a typical first-baby hard labor for Jan. We got to the hospital in the early morning and it was after 9 pm before Jen arrived.
Tim, on the other hand, was almost born in the car before we made it to Palm Harbor in Garden Grove.
So we are celebrating tonight at Joe's Crab Shack in Newport (first time for me to eat there). Jeff and the girls will be there, Tim's Anne will be there. And Jan and I will be there, as we have tried to be for the last 36 years. To plagiarize Bill Gaither, we'll be:

Thanking God every day

That He sent them our way

And he trusted them once to our care.

And wherever they roam

They can always come home.

We'll be there.

This is a Long One

2009-07-29T19:53:00.000-07:00

Jan and I had a great 4-day trip to my old stomping grounds, the Central Valley. Her cousins were celebrating their 50th anniversary in Selma, so we went up for that, went to church in Porterville, then spent a couple of days with my sister at their cabin in Shaver Lake.

Got in about 3:30 on Friday, then went to see my mom in Reedley. She's going to be 93 in September, and her health continues to gradually deteriorate. Spent about an hour with her before she wanted to go to the dining hall, and most of the conversation has to be "yes" and "no" because those are the only intelligible words she can say now. She did say, "Go" when it was time for dinner, and Jan swears she said, "I hate dinner"--they were having mac and cheese. She has to be fed, bathed, changed, and lifted in and out of bed. But she didn't cry when we left--a victory in itself--mainly because we promised to drop by again Tuesday on our way home.

After dinner Friday Jan's family was sitting around looking at pictures and telling family stories, and I had nothing to contribute--and didn't really feel like watching O'Reilly or Glenn Beck--so I went outside and sat on their porch swing. There was barely a hint of breeze and I realized they don't make summer nights in Huntington Beach like the ones in the Central Valley. We were far enough away from the freeway to not be able to hear it, and I heard voices from probably a couple of miles away as kids got in their last playtime before dark. I flashed back to my youth, where I rarely slept inside during the summer. I slept out in our backyard, often with a couple of friends, and fell asleep to millions of stars in the sky. I slept under the clotheslines, so on occasion we would drape a clear dropcloth over the lines and watch the thunderstorms over our heads. My dad eventually built me a bed further back, between our two peach trees.

Saturday's celebration was good, and there were enough people I knew to make it enjoyable.

Sunday we delayed our trip up to Shaver to go to the Porterville Church of the Nazarene. That wasn't part of the original plan, but circumstances made it impossible for us not to go. Their pastor, Mark Pitcher, was our youth pastor in Garden Grove when our kids were toddlers, and we worked in his department and got close to him and his wife Karen. Two weeks before Karen had to be hospitalized with bleeding on the brain, we followed her progress with Facebook updates, and Mark posted that he was going to share the story Sunday morning. Turns out they just moved into a new sanctuary 3 weeks ago, and it was an emotional experience for Jan since her grandfather and uncle both pastored that church in the 30s and 40s.
Karen had complained of a severe headache on Friday night the 10th, and Mark finally had to call the paramedics and have her taken to ER. Bleeding on the brain was diagnosed, probably from a ruptured aneurysm, and she was transported to Fresno. By the time she got there it was 4:30 am Saturday and Mark hadn't had a chance to phone anyone to let them know what was going on. By the way, his sermon title was, "Strong Men DO Cry," and as he led us through their ordeal, there were many strong men and women tearing up in the congregation. He pointed out he had often been at the bedside of parishioners in peril, but this was a first for him. So here was what he learned in a brand new way.
1. The Ministry of Prayer--Once he had a chance, he posted a status on facebook, asking for prayer. Karen had been administered a "coma" test, and her responses were heavily leaning toward a "mortal" result for her. Jan read the post, sent messages to our Garden Grove friends and her cousins in Lake Elsinore, and before long Mark and Karen were on at least 3 prayer chains. He said he had over 200 emails and comments on facebook, including one from a former member who now lives in Holland that started with, "I was just thinking about you and..."
2. The Ministry of Presence--Karen was in surgery to relieve pressure on her brain, Mark was alone, crying out to God waiting outside surgery. It was about a half hour since he had called his staff to spread the word. The elevator opened and out walked 2 of his staff and 2 lay members. They rushed to him and he collapsed in their arms. His 2 kids ignored his "wait and see" advice and immediately started heading to Fresno from southern California. He said that in that situation, "There's nothing more healing than a granddaughter who just wants to give Papa a hug." I hear that. He then showed a picture from facebook of he and Karen as newlyweds at Garden Grove, sent by our friend Dennis who was in his youth group at the time.
3. The Ministry of Peace--As they were going in again to try and locate the aneurysm and tie it off or send them to Stanford if it was in a difficult place, he sat outside and cupped his hands and cried out his heart to God. (As I have done myself and it always "works") he told God the burden was too much for him to bear, so he turned his hands over, palms down, and gave Karen to God. He then experienced an infilling of peace that is indescribable unless you've been there yourself.
4. The Ministry of God's Power--It was almost anticlimactic about 10 minutes later when the hospital tech came out and informed him they could find no evidence of an aneurysm. Another check a couple of days later yielded the same results. The latest is that Karen is due to go home tomorrow unless the bleeding reoccurs. Mark is claiming a miracle healing, and who can dispute him?
Afterwards we got a chance to talk with him for just a minute before he headed back to the hospital, and he assured us Karen would know we had been there. We then went to the welcome center and got our first-time-visitor gifts (Portnaz coffee mugs, what a concept!) and headed off to Shaver Lake.
Great two days with my sister and brother-in-law, despite the lack of internet. Jay is an insurance agent specializing in health insurance, and is worried that universal health care will completely annihilate his business. We talked a lot about that and his options, and it's one of those situations where there is so much to worry about because so much is unknown. I tried to reassure them because they have always been faithful tithers and God's ability to bless is greater than the government's ability to tax and socialize, but it's easy for me to say because I'm not in their position. So, if you are reading this and have a prayer list, please put Jay and Karen on it.
Saw Mom for about 5 minutes on the way home. She was already back in bed and dozing after lunch when we got there, so I'm not sure she'll even remember we were there, so I was having, "Bad Son," thoughts all the way home. And again resolving to make the drive to see her more often.
Told you this is a long one. If you're still reading, thank you. Don't think I'll even go back and proofread.

That's Gotta Hurt

2009-07-21T10:59:00.000-07:00

Love listening to the gkids watch TV when they can do it without fighting. We had them for a couple of hours this morning while Jen was at cheer practice. Disney channel was showing the Kurt Russell movie, "Sky High" so they had it on. Now when it first came out in the theatre, they had to leave early because Jolie just got too scared to finish it.
This time they were cackling all the way through it. The capper came with about 2o minutes to go there was some kind of spectacular crash and a giggling Jolie said, "Wow, that's gotta hurt!"
Yep, growing up.

Precious Cargo

2009-07-18T10:33:00.000-07:00

Jeff has to run a basketball tournament this weekend, and Jen has cheerleader camp at UCLA, which means Jan and I have had another chance to revisit to whole parenting thing. We had the girls all day Thursday, Friday, and until about 4 pm today. They spent Thursday night with dad and he brought them back over Friday morning.

Thursday was a full day. Swim lessons at 1:30 at OCC. It was their last day of this session, and on the last day they were given the chance to jump off the diving boards. Jolie somehow thought she would be forced to jump off the high board, so she was stressing about that all the way over. Not the case. She went off the low board. The first time it was being held by a coach and "jumping" into the arms of the other coach, but by the third time she was doing it unassisted. She also discovered grampa wasn't lying when he said swimming in 12 feet of water was the same as swimming in 4 feet of water. To our surprise, Jeslyn also had a chance to jump off the low board, which she did, twice, and I'm sure she'll now be lobbying for a board at our community pool. Then I took her to gymnastics. She's obviously the most talented and athletic in her class (no grampa bias at all), and needs to move to the next level to avoid further boredom, both on her part and on the part of family members watching.

Friday was less crowded, schedulewise. Jolie went to a sleepover at 5. Jeslyn spent the night with us, on the floor at the foot of our bed, to be close to gramma and grampa.

Jan left for a women's retreat this morning, so I took Jeslyn over to pick up Jolie about 9. The party was about 7 miles away (Heil east of Bolsa Chica for you OC people), and on the way home they were having a great time. Jeslyn had drawn some dress designs, and Jolie was offering praise and suggestions, and they were negotiatin just how much Jolie would pay Jeslyn for the design.

As I listened to my grandchildren play in my backseat, I was struck with this not-so-profound, yet moving, thought. I have been entrusted with more responsibility, and have a more valuable cargo, than any Brinks driver on the planet.

Mobile Homes at IKEA

2009-07-14T16:48:00.000-07:00

The creative juices have dried up for the time being (some would say for quite some time!) , so this is borrowed.

Jan and the kids were coming back from Arizona Sunday afternoon. There is an IKEA about a mile before our exit, and Jan saw what appeared to be a manufactured home in the parking lot (it WAS, as we verified on Monday). The following exchange took place:
Jan: Look, IKEA is selling mobile homes
Jeff: Yes, but you have to put it together yourself.
Jen: Yeah, and the instructions are in Swedish.
(Lest we get sued, our inspection the next day did not validate Jeff or Jen's statements)

"Don't Let the Door Hit You...."

2009-07-07T20:08:00.000-07:00

By now you know how excited I am to be retired. You may have read some posts from kids who enjoyed being my students and apparently will miss me. Well, I found out yesterday that my district is apparently as happy as I am about my retirement. I knew they would be happy about the money they are saving--they could hire two new teachers for what they were paying me. But they apparently would not be upset if I did not come back in any capacity. Here's the scenario: I have had some colleagues tell me I should sub and they would definitely ask for me if I were on the list of possible subs. I didn't really want to sub next year for a couple of reasons, first because I just would like a full year off, and second because our district has about 75 recently laid off teachers who are a priority on the sub list, as they should be.
But, I was considering at least being on the list if it meant that as a recently retired employee I would have some paperwork advantages--mainly that I could go straight on the list while they still had my employment info, bypassing the paperwork such as transcripts, C-Best test results, fingerprints, etc. When I checked at Personnel yesterday, I was told that as of July 1 I was no longer a district employee, which means if I want to apply to sub I have to go through the same procedure as a first-time employee. That assumes they are taking applications for new subs, which they aren't.
Now, granted, I didn't really want to work next year, anyway. But, it was kind of a jolt to realize that after 36 years, I was basically a non-entity. They weren't singling me out, of course, though perhaps they know how much I am like the guy in the cartoon below.

And now I have finally have something in common with the guy to the right.

Graduation

2009-07-02T13:07:00.001-07:00

I think everyone who reads my blog is on Facebook, so I thought I'd write about the new profile pic I posted. It's of this year's graduation at Foothill High School, and because I was retiring I got go be one of the 4 "shakers" who shook hands and posed with graduates after they got their diplomas. But I posted it not because I was in the picture, but because of the young man with whom I'm shaking hands. His name is Baldwin. Baldwin and his sister came to Foothill in the fall of 2005--right after Katrina destroyed their home in downtown New Orleans. He is one of the reasons I get very defensive when anyone disparages public education in California. You can see he is very large, and our initial contact with him saw visions of him leading our basketball team to their best season in recent memory. When they enrolled, I took the time to check out their schools in New Orleans. His sister went to the neighborhood school--where only 3% of the seniors passed the Louisiana High School Exit Exam. I'm guessing that exam is not as difficult as the California one. Because of his athletic potential, Baldwin went to a magnet athletic school--where 50% of the students passed the exam. Now Foothil High School has a rather rigid curriculum, and they both understandably struggled from the start. Baldwin's sister and mother moved back to New Orleans as soon as it was habitable. Baldwin wanted to stay, and one of our families graciously allowed him to move in with them. He tested and qualified for special services, and--as you can see from the picture--passed the CAHSEE and graduated with his class.
If you looked at his athletic career at FHS, statistically it wasn't memorable. He played football the last two years, but not very much. He was on our varsity basketball team this year, and though he also didn't play much, they won their first league championship in 19 years. I think Baldwin's teammates would tell you he played a big part in that championship, not because of how he played, but because of who he is. His impact on that team and the rest of the students at Foothill High School is immeasurable. He started the next-to-last game of the year, got the biggest ovation, and played very well. His mom had made the trip to see him play, and I can only imagine what she was thinking as she watched FHS love her son. On senior night at home, his was by far the biggest cheer when introduced.
Katrina destroyed many lives and much property. But I think she saved Baldwin's life. Because of caring students, staff and parents that make up the Foothill community, and because of his own hard work, he has a future. I don't know if his high school in New Orleans could have done that for him. He's back in Louisiana now, and his FB posts are full of his desire to get back to Cali and of his friends who can't wait to see him again. And I had the honor of shaking his hand when he got his diploma.

Comments Invited.

2009-06-25T09:07:00.000-07:00

I'm very confident that this post is every bit as comment-worthy as the previous five. Thank you. The end.

Tribute to my Dad

2009-06-20T12:10:00.000-07:00

My dad died October 8, 1988. I wasn't quite yet 40. I have this image of him sidling up to Jesus a few days later and saying, "My son would really be happy if Eckersley would hang a backdoor slider to Gibson right now." Baseball fans would know what I mean. He had been ill for almost 10 years, and one of the reasons I retired early and spend money now, is that he never really had the chance to do either, working in fruit packing houses into his 70s. My sister and I both wrote eulogies, which were read by the pastor conducting the service. He must have liked mine, because Mom got a phone call some time later from someone who said they had heard my eulogy read over the radio at some station in Minnesota. So I thought I would publish what I wrote, having read it over and realizing that after almost 21 years, not a word needs to be changed. Here goes.

"On Friday morning, Arnold Falk died. On Friday night his son went to a football game. More importantly, on Sunday morning his son was in church. In both instances, the son was emulating the father. Oh, Dad wasn't a football fan, but he believed in honoring his commitments, and I was committed to working at the football game. And Dad was committed to his God and his church. So we went to church on Sunday because it was the right thing to do. We were the type of family who went to Sunday School and church when we were out of town on vacation because Sunday was the Lord's day and the Lord's people were in His house. And if there's ever a time when you need to be in the Lord's house, it's after the loss of a loved one. Many people in the church know of Dad's faithfulness. The thing they perhaps most remember is the way he took seriously his job as head usher, and the fastidious way he cleaned up discarded paper and bulletins among the pews on Sunday morning when church was over.
Those who worked with him in the packing sheds knew the joy he brought to those around him. Depending on the place and the fruit season, his nicknames included "Happy," "Jolly," and "Smiley.
But there are special memories between a father and son, and they, too, give insight as to the kind of man my father was. My earliest memories of Dad were his nightly Bible reading. He often fell asleep with his Bible in his lap, and Mom would have to wake him up to go to bed. He left most of my formal Christian education to Mom and my Sunday School teachers, but he always stressed to me the importance of tithing, and I think of Dad nearly every time I drop my envelope in the plate.
When I was in college, having already moved 200 miles away, I'd still come home once or twice a month. Before I left to go back to school, Dad would always find a time to be alone with me, ask me if I needed anything, and slip me a $20 bill from some private reserve he probably had set aside for that purpose.
His devotion to his son was never more evident than the way he handled my infatuation with the game of baseball. Dad never liked baseball, probably because it consumed too much time, and he never had that kind of time, trying to put two kids through college. But baseball consumed me a minimum of 12 hours a day during the summer. Summer also meant 12-14 hour workdays for Dad in the packing sheds. He would get home late, dead tired, greeted by the words, "Dad, take me to the game in Fresno?" Most of the time he would, often going without dinner so we wouldn't miss the first pitch. Once at the game (we usually took at least one of my friends) I would go running off around the ballpark, leaving Dad to sit alone for 3 hours watching a game in which he had no interest. At game's end I would usually sleep all the way home while he drove the 35 miles, probably anticipating having to go through the same thing the next night. Today, when my 11-year-old son asks me to take him someplace I don't want to go (he inherited his grandfather's "love" for sports) I try to remember the example my father set. I doubt that Dad felt like much of a martyr at the time. He was doing what he believed dads ought to do, and no sacrifice was too great for his son. I believe it when psychologists tell us it is impossible to overestimate the impact of a father who is willing to give his children his time, not just "things".
Dad hasn't really been himself the last few years, so I asked my kids if they were old enough to remember Grandpa before he got sick. They both thought of Saturday morning cartoons. The five grandkids would get up and Grandpa would get up with them, admonishing them not to laugh so loud or they would, "wake up the birdies." Usually it was Dad's laughter that would wake up the rest of the house. My 15-year-old, Jennifer, perhaps put it best: "Grandpa was the reason we looked forward to going to Grandma's house."
So, Arnold Falk left a legacy of love, laughter and unselfishness that all of us remember. But, best of all, he took me to a church where I was taught these words: "Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here. He is risen. Come see the place where they have laid him."
I am just beginning to realize that Dad is gone, and I will not hear his belly-laugh again as long as I live. But I know the final resting place of the dust that was my father is as empty as the tomb that held my Lord.
On the night when my sister called and informed me of Dad's stroke, sleep would not come. As Dad would have done, I turned to God's word for comfort. He led me to Isaiah 43:1, and it seemed as if the Lord was telling me this was Dad's verse. "Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are mine." The word "redeemed" translated literally means, "released from bondage", and though his death would not come until 8 days later, my Dad was being released from the bondage of this earthly body. Someday we will all be released, hopefully to the same reward that Dad has begun to enjoy. His death only deepens my resolve to lot anything in my life jeopardize my chances of seeing him again someday. I love my father (present tense), will love him all my life, and will someday get to tell him again--face to face."

I composed a few final sentences after finishing copying that down, erased them all and decided they stand on their own pretty well.

The Best Laid Plans.

2009-06-19T14:32:00.000-07:00

So, here was my plan: Last day of finals, only one final to go, so I had to give the final, turn in my keys, turn in my grades, and on the road by 10:30. But it was not to be.

1. My desktop monitor died, so I had no way of printing out my grades during class time. My laptop is not connected to a printer.
2. Went to get my room signed off. Was asked, "Is your computer ready for the summer school teacher? Are your desks lined up for the summer school teacher instead of finals?" No, my monitor died and I had my desks stacked. Over to our tech teacher, get new used monitor, carry it to my room, exchange it for the old one, wait ten minutes for it to boot up to make sure it works. While waiting, unstacked all 41 of my desks, started putting them back in rows. Dropped a desk on my toe. The one that was already black and blue from dropping a stack of record albums (ask your parents what those are) on my foot. Put sign on computer for summer school teacher to remind them not to reboot computer unless they wanted to wait 10 minutes.
3. Went to athletic office to print out my grades from flash drive. Grades done, but our registrar walked out the door to lunch. Turned in keys, turned in emergency envelope, got room signed off. Since my choices at that point were to wait for registrar or come back Monday, I went to lunch.
4 Favorite mexican restaurant in Orange--Los Cabos at Tustin and Collins. Soup watery for a change, salsa too hot for a change. One benefit: Araceli, my waitress, comped my diet coke in honor of my retirement.
5. Back to school to turn in grades and sign out with principal. Finally done about 12:30. Since all finals were now done now, made rounds of friends for goodbyes.
6. Finally got in the car about 1:10. Then the tears came. Not sorrowful. Joyful ones at the realization that God got me to this point. 36 years of holding my hand every step of the way. When he wasn't carrying me.

Revisiting my Life, Part 1

2009-06-16T10:19:00.000-07:00

At my math department retirement party last week, a couple of our teachers were talking about student friendships and facebook. One has a policy that no one can be called her friend until they turn 21. Another said, and this is a paraphrase, "I don't want anything to do with them once they leave high school." I was thinking to myself, "Wow, I couldn't live like that." Now both of these teachers are great teachers and extremely popular with their students. They are both math majors and they do a much better job of delivering curriculum and holding students accountable than I do. Maybe it's because of my coaching background, but I was (at least in 3 days it will be "was") in education for the relationships.

I was thinking of their conversation last night at Souplantation as Jan and I had dinner with a girl from the class of '85 and two of her children. I never had her in class, but she was on our national championship cross country team in '85. I wasn't her primary coach, but my function was to keep these quality athletes from assaulting their coach! She was a strong Christian then, and it is obvious her spiritual life has continued to grow and mature. She's currently living in Spokane, having moved there 3 years ago for a slower pace of life. She has a boy, 6, and girls, 4 and 3, and is looking, so far unsuccessfully, to adopt another little boy. They are down for a couple of weeks while her husband works on his Doctorate in Christian Education at Biola. I caught up on her siblings, parents, and told her when I said goodbye, "You turned out just like I thought you would." Every time one of my former students seems genuinely happy to reconnect with me, I get this indescribable sense of joy and validation. Friends ARE friends forever.

I mentioned this dinner on my fb status last night. I already have a comment from another former student, asking, "When's my turn?" Stay tuned for further installments.

No blues at this car wash

2009-06-14T13:01:00.000-07:00

Saturday was Jeff and Jen's 11th Anniversary, but Jeff was playing guitar at church so they couldn't celebrate until today. So they dropped the girls off with us at lunch at Azteca, and then went off to celebrate. We had the girls until about 3:30, and then Jan and I headed out for our end-of-the-year choir party. Jan decided that both of our cars were greatly in need of a wash (the word she used was "filthy"), and my math brain realized I could save $40 by doing them myself. She then enlisted the girls to help, they being young enough to still believe washing cars is fun.

(The picture to the left is a reenactment using a standin grandchild. No labor laws were violated while filming.)

Jolie helped with my car. She soaped everything below window level, and I had the high parts. Drying held the same responsibilities. Jeslyn came in at this point and the only job left was to wash the rims. It was obvious that this job was beneath her. So then we started on grandma's car. Jolie took the port side below the windows, Jeslyn the starboard. The main topic of conversation during this time was their criticism of mama birds for failing to potty train their children. When we finished, they came to 3 conclusions why the "old-fashioned" method of washing cars is superior to a professional carwash: 1) This way is much more fun 2) This way is free (definitely grampa's girls) 3) This way is quieter.
Grandma was suitably impressed with our work, finding fault only with the top of her car--which of course was my responsibility. Jolie then proceeded to wipe down the stair rails to our back door (definitely daddy's girl), and wanted other fun stuff to do. I showed her how to use the dustbuster to vacuum the inside of my car, feeling more like Tom Sawyer with each passing moment. So, paying to have your car washed in the OC: $20. Washing it yourself with the help of your grandchildren--a priceless preview of retirement.

One final note. When it comes to debate over the holiest form of washing cars, I am definitely an advocate of sprinkling over immersion.

The Ultimate Compliment

2009-06-11T10:59:00.000-07:00

I often eavesdrop on student conversations in class. This morning the kids in my 3rd period were making not-so-complimentary comments about the personal hygeine of another teacher. I asked, "What do you guys say about me when I'M not around." One boy said, "You are one of our coolest teachers, Mr. Falk. We'd rather have you than a sub." The ultimate compliment. I think.

Amazed by God--Again!!

2009-06-04T07:34:00.000-07:00

I wonder if there will ever come a time in my life when I cease to be amazed by the hand of God in my life. I hope not. Had another instance of that last night, and I want to point out ahead of time that I am bragging on God, not me.

I had a friend invitation on facebook from a girl whose name I didn't recognize, but since girls have a tendency to change their names and I can use all the friends I can get, I confirmed the friendship. The picture didn't ring a bell. I hate it when that happens. She had asked if I was the only former Tustin teacher on facebook, and I replied that I hadn't seen any others. I then asked if she was using her maiden name on facebook, and what year she graduated, pleading a senior moment. What I really was saying, was "Help me remember you." Here is a paraphrase of her reply: "I am using my maiden name, I graduated in 1983. I never had you for a class, but was in the school's Christian club when you were the sponsor. You were always very nice to me at a time when I was very much picked on by other students." We then chatted for about an hour or so.

I hope I can convey in words the emotion I was feeling at the time. Apparently God used me as a source of comfort for her at a time in her life when she needed comforting. I had no idea. I thought of the sermon series our high school pastor Scott Martin is presenting about the early church. One of the things that came to mind is Scott reminded us that when we determine to represent God, his Holy Spirit will put the words in our mouth. I have always thought of that in an evangelistic setting, but I think this is a different type of example. The emotion comes from the realization that through this voice from a quarter century ago, God was telling me what I need to hear. See, I'm a couple of weeks from retirement. I really don't think my light shined as bright as it could have these past 36 years. Apparently I was wrong, and God knew I needed to hear that. From our conversation during the next hour she made it clear that she had many friends with the same memories of me.

It was a time of joy for me, and a time of reflection. A boost for my ego in this area in case it takes a hit in another. But it wasn't me, it was all God's timing. For reinforcement, there was another note from a 1986 student who said, "I knew you were a Christian. I became a believer in 1991."

We hear all the time about how God is being legislated out of our schools. Why does that upset us? If we know anything about church history, we know that times of oppression are when God shows His power the most. I just laugh now instead of getting upset at the people who think they can make God illegal. He uses those times to most dramatically demonstrate His power.

"Let your light so shine before men that they can see your good works and glorify your father in heaven." God reminded me yesterday of the truth of that verse, and He did it in just the way I needed.

Working on Worship

2009-05-31T16:54:00.001-07:00

This is the image I want to project when I
lead worship. "Unless you come to me as a little child, you will not enter my kingdom." I want to project the childlike joy we should all feel when we worship our Creator. However....

This is the image I feel like I project when I am part of the worship team. Kind of makes you want to clap your hands and jump for joy, doesn't it? Our church is growing swiftly, and the number of people who have become part of the worship team has grown also. So, we got an e-mail this week saying all of us were going to audition again, in the interest of a consistent worship experience from week to week. That got me to thinking, "Why do I want to be a part of that?" Didn't like my answers. I have a competent voice, can pick out harmony rather easily, and really love doing it. But, if the picture above is even close to accurate, am I adding or detracting from the worship experience of the congregation? I have never been a demonstrative worshiper, but if I am to remain in front, I have to at least to be able to make it obvious to the congregation that I am worshiping. I can't lead them in something I'm not doing myself. In truth, the answer to my question was that I enjoyed the attention it brought from my new church friends. But if I do it right, I shouldn't be the object of their attention, right?

So I'm going to be doing a lot of this between now and auditions. I've done some already, and this morning during communion I turned the whole situation over to God. I'd really love to continue to be a part of the team, because I love the people who lead and with whom I sing, but it needs to be with a changed attitude. If I'm told the team needs more than I have to offer, it will be a blow to my ego, but I can say I am at peace with that possibility. Worship leaders need to be what their name suggests.

Annual Visit to the 60s

2009-05-29T08:13:00.000-07:00

Since this is near the end of the school year, the US History classes have finally gotten around to studying the '60s. In what has become a rite of spring, they are assigned to find a relic from the 60s and interview them. Today was my day. I had a young man interview me in 0 period and I have another coming in at lunch. They usually ask such penetrating questions as "What was it like in the sixties?", but today's contained a couple I hadn't heard before.

When we get started I usually pull out my memorabilia that I keep on hand for such occasions. I have two magazines with Kareem on the cover when he was still known as Lew Alcindor. I have my 1968 Rose Bowl program with OJ on the cover--don't show that one as often as I used to. And my favorite, the original program from the Monterey Pop Festival, in June of 1967. This was the precursor to Woodstock, a 3-day music festival containing many of my favorite groups. You may have heard of some of the groups we listened to that weekend: The Animals, The Association, Simon and Garfunkel, Janis Joplin, The Beach Boys, The Byrds, Moby Grape (my favorite group name of all time), Otis Redding, Buffalo Springfield, Mamas and Papas (my favorite 60s group), Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendris and The Who.

Anyway, a couple of questions that caused me to stop and think:

"What was your favorite year in the 60s?" I originally chose 1963, because that was the year the Dodgers swept the Yankees in the World Series, and at that time my life revolved around baseball even more than it does now. Then I realized Nov 22, 1963 was the day John Kennedy was shot, which disqualifies 1963 from consideration as a good year. As I scrolled through the other years, the same things happened--highs and lows. Here's a saying that you may want to put on your refrigerator: "Every year has its good and bad points." Brilliant. I finally settled on 1969. When he asked why, I said, "that's when I met my wife."

"Who is the person you remember most from growing up." I figured he probably didn't want to hear about Sandy, the girl who broke my heart many times, and would have continued to do so if my prayers hadn't gone unanswered ("Sometimes I thank God...." thank you, Garth). So I talked about my high school chemistry teacher, Mr. Goehring. When he asked why Mr. Goehring, my response was, "because he cared more about me than what I learned in his class--which was plenty." If you ask the thousands of kids he taught, they would answer the question the same way. I told him, when you see me teach, you see Mr. Goehring. Two things that have really become a part of my daily routine. When he would make a mistake on the chalkboard (ask your grandparents if you don't know what a chalkboard is), and we pointed it out, his response was always, "Just seeing if you were paying attention." And, if a concept was something we just had to learn and not necessarily understand why it worked, he would say, "You understand this is over my head at this point." I've always been honest with my kids when teaching what I call "math magic" a concept that I know works, but haven't the foggiest notion why. I got that from him, and I think kids appreciate the honesty. He made chemistry fun, and I have tried to make math fun. (One reason I'm in math is that for twelve years I tried to make English fun, and did, and my "elders" were convinced English wasn't supposed to be fun).

For years, when I would go home to a basketball or football game, he would be taking tickets, and when he saw me, for those few minutes I was the only person in his life. So, my former students, when you wax nostalgic about the enjoyment you had in my classes, breathe a prayer of thanks for Mr. Goehring.

Gotta go. First bloodwork for my physical on Monday, then thinking up creative responses to "What was it like in the 60s?" from my noon interviewer.

PS. This just in: Make that my 10 o'clock interviewer and my noon interviewer.

Jon & Kate--Who cares?

2009-05-26T08:34:00.000-07:00

I don't watch a lot of reality TV. Other than "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" the reality shows hold no interest for me at all. When I watch EMHE I know I'm going to get a happy ending. Call me shallow, but I don't need to watch what often is a look into other people's misery. Or infidelity. Or ruthlessness. Or arrests. My friend Kristi just blogged on the apparently impending demise of the marriage of Jon and Kate, another show I don't watch and could tell you nothing about. Apparently they are putting their kids in front of each other, and that is a recipe for disaster. I have been guilty over the years a few times of putting my relationship with Jen and Tim before my relationship with Jan, always with disastrous results. Even worse were the times I put other people's children (0ften my athletes) in front of all 3. Someone very smart once said, "The best thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother." So that's what I try to do.
In addition to the things Kristi pointed out, one other truth seems evident to me--marriages were not meant to be lived in the spotlight. That's not exactly a "stop the presses" revelation. But here are these two seemingly nice people, who have children they love, all the money they need, a new house and yet it's not working. I think of the young couples I have gotten to know in our church, all of whom are missing at least one of the things J & K have. Their history includes houses they can't sell, foreclosures, living from paycheck to paycheck, job-induced separation, and unanswered prayers to start a family. What DO they have that J & K don't have? An obvious and unashamed desire to be with each other. When they are separated, their FB posts are full of "waiting for him/her to get home." They look forward to being reunited. Homes like J & K look forward to separation.
Here's a challenge--name a successful marriage that includes one or both spouses frequently on the cover of tabloids. If Jan and I have a disagreement, the chances of resolution increase exponentially with the number of people who know about it. Every time we have sought 3rd-party counseling--including pastors--more problems were created than solved. In "The American President" the climactic scene includes Andrew Shepherd (Michael Douglas) saying, "America isn't easy." My paraphrase would be either, "Marriage isn't easy,", or, better yet, "Without God, marriage is impossible." He's the only 3rd party that has worked for us.
So, my unsolicited advice to Jon & Kate? Kick the cameras out of the house. Return your marriage to a relationship, not a performance. At that point, whether your marriage makes it or fails is nobody else's business. Certainly not mine.
(Thanks to KT for triggering this pontification. Heidi, it's the best I got right now!)

Precious Moments

2009-05-15T08:32:00.000-07:00

Got a glimpse of Jan's life yesterday. Got home about 3:30, just in time to console Jolie (9) who has decided she doesn't like going to dance class on Thursdays. Jan had a hair appointment, so I then went and picked up Jeslyn from ESP, came home so she could change into her gymnastics gear, then drove her to her gymnastics class at 4:30. On the way I discovered there are no green lights between our house and SCATS, about 8 miles away. Dropped Jes off, picked up Jolie who had survived dance class and brought her home. Jeff picked her up about 5:30. Jan gets tired of these "chores" from time to time, because it brings back the days of parenting young ones, when their schedule supercedes yours (if you do it right). But those couple of hours were not without precious little memories for me.

1. When I picked up the previously miserable Jolie, she took my hand as we walked to the car and said, "Thanks for picking me up, grampa." Unspoken, but felt, was, "I'm sorry I was so upset before, because I know you get upset, too, when I'm unhappy."

2. When I picked up Jeslyn, she surprised me by saying, "I'm marking my calendar, grampa, and you only have 25 days left of school." She's 5. She's not really excited FOR me in my impending retirement, she's excited because I'll be able to pick her up most days after first grade, and I won't be stuck at a game or a meeting that would cause me to miss all of my grampa time. I'm going through a "good grampa" stage at this time, and she seems to cherish every minute she gets to spend with me. I plan to wide that wave for as long as it lasts!

The Timelessness of great Music

2009-05-10T10:12:00.000-07:00

This was a special Mother's Day morning for this father, and neither of my children were directly involved. Our choir sang, "Because He Lives," this morning at our classic praise service. This service is for those who prefer traditional church music to the more contemporary ones, so as you might expect, the average age of the crowd was in their 60s or perhaps 70s. I have a new friend in her early 30s who was raised in the church, and when we were talking about the song last week, she said she would come to listen. Her name is Sarah, and her mom is in the choir also.

We started rehearsing about 8:30, and a few ladies arrived early, listened to us rehearse, and before long were mouthing the familiar words with us. Sarah arrived, we chatted awhile about the Angels (she likes) and Red Sox (she and mom don't like), and then the service began. While I don't attend this service normally, liking the energy of the contemporary service, I enjoyed the memories brought back by such songs as "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms," "The Church's One Foundation," and "Near the Cross."

Then it was our turn to sing the great arrangement of this great song. I made the mistake of glancing over at Sarah and almost was not able to sing any more as I saw her brushing back the tears from her face. When you sing one of the great old songs you expect emotion from the senior citizens, but here was the youngest (nearly) person in the room overwhelmed by the message of the song. I expect it brought back memories of sitting in church during her childhood--maybe against her will. Perhaps she was thinking about facing her tomorrows despite some not-so-great yesterdays, because Jesus lives in her. If her Mom happened to glance over at her during the song I suspect nothing else needed to happen for this to be a great Mothers Day for her. Her child can face uncertain days because He lives.

I had a great time with Tim and Anne yesterday. We went to lunch and then saw "Star Trek"--which I enjoyed more than I expected. We're about to leave for Mothers Day brunch with Jen and Jeff and the girls and Jeff's family. That's going to be great also. Jan and I are going to Home Depot on Mother's Day to find flowers to plant in front of our house, and I will enjoy that time together, too. But this father has already had a blessed day that is set aside to honor mothers, inspired by the joy on the face of a child that is not my own. Such is the family of God.

Because He lives

I can face tomorrow.

Because He lives

All fear is gone.

Because I know

who holds the future.

And life is worth the living

just because He Lives.

Research Finished

2009-05-05T10:21:00.000-07:00

Based on my research over the last 36 years, I am able to publish results of my study of predictors of student performance on standardized tests. Here it is: When preparing to take a college placement test that will determine acceptance or denial of an application to a 4-year university, the student who prepares in hourly increments over the course of a school year has a greater chance of success than the student who goes to his teacher and says, "teach me Algebra 2 in 15 minutes."

Documentation provided upon request.

Rejoice Always?

2009-04-26T10:12:00.000-07:00

We are told to "rejoice in the Lord always." It doesn't take a brilliant mind to realize that's not easy. Jen and Jeff had a sleepover last night for Jolie's 9th birthday, and there were 13 9-year-olds there plus 5-year old Jeslyn. I suspect the rejoicing took place this morning when they returned to a household of 4. We did our part by taking Jeslyn for lunch and a 3-hour nap (grandma's house is so relaxing!) so that Jen could get ready. I wound up making 3 trips over there and each time the household was in an increasingly frenzied state. The first trip was to take Jeslyn home, assuring her that her long nap had not caused her to miss any of the party. The second was because I forgot to drop off her dance clothes and the inflatable mattress the kids were borrowing. A this point the 9-year-olds were seeing if they could get into the book of world records for "longest time jumping up and down without stopping." The third trip was because Jen couldn't get the mattress to inflate. I jiggled and wiggled and got it to blow up. By this time all 14 girls had their sleeping bags out on the living room floor getting ready to watch a movie. Jen and Jeff's facebook posts the last 24-hours have talked about survival, not joy. It's a little easier for grampa to find points for rejoicing.

I rejoice that we live close enough to our grandchildren that I can make 3 trips over there that totaled resulted in being away from the house for about 15 minutes total.

I rejoice that Jeslyn loves her big sister so much that she had me wait in the car while she added the finishing touches on the drawing she was giving her for her birthday.

I rejoice that Jolie is the kind of little girl that sends out 13 birthday invitations and winds up with 13 acceptances--including Girl "C" who said she wouldn't come if Girl "J" were invited, but came anyway when Jolie explained that she was inviting ALL her friends.

I rejoice that Jennifer married a man for whom fatherhood is a calling he takes seriously--during trip #2, the girls were getting ready to have "dirty Q-tips", and Jeff was doing the cooking.

I rejoice that Jolie and Jeslyn, no matter how involved they were in the mayhem, took time to give grampa a hug during all 3 trips.

Finally, I rejoice that Jolie has thus far been granted a life that allows her to pursue all of her dreams and joys without the spectre of major illness.

This brings me to Jack. Jack is 2. Jack probably doesn't even know my name, as I've only spoken to him a couple of times when his parents brought him into the sanctuary after church. Jen and Jeff would heartily agree that Heidi and Kurt, Jack's parents, have endured a much more stressful weekend than they. Jack developed a rash on Wednesday that has turned into fever, swelling all over his body, trips to the ER, and no definitive diagnosis as yet. Obviously, finding joy in that situation is a little more of a stretch. I think of when Jen was two and stepped on a hot waffle iron, burning layers of skin off and not understanding her pain at all. That was not a situation spilling over with joy and I would suspect for this family the pain outweighs the joy right now.

For me, as someone who loves this family but cannot really help them with this burden,
I can rejoice that Jack's parents have learned to turn to God and his church for hope in times like these.

I rejoice that Bruce's sermon this week "coincidentally" was about God's sustaining grace, that is enough for any situation that life brings us.

Most of all, I was blinking back tears of joy reading the words sent to Heidi and Kurt on their public blogs and facebook pages. Countless examples of the Church being the Church when it needs to be. If you know Kurt and Heidi and want to offer help and encouragement, you are not alone. If you don't know them, then please add your prayers for little Jack to those that have already been offered. That's really why I decided to write about this, so that people who read this can join in.

A Night at the Ballet

2009-04-23T20:48:00.000-07:00

Decided to take in the ballet tonight, being the highly cultured person that I am. Went to a performance of "A Bug's Adventure," which you've probably not heard of unless you are as informed about ballet as I am. The ballet starred my granddaughters (see above), but there were many other dancers who filled in the time while my darlings were resting. Since only the parents, grandparents and godmother Teresa were there, I'll kind of fill you in on what you missed.

First the ants came out and danced in circles. Then Jolie, as a blueberry, came out, ran around in a circle for about 5 seconds and left the stage--a performance calculated to whet our appetite for her next appearance. Then the grasshoppers (b00) came out and fought with the ants, while being distracted by the centipede. Then my versatile Jolie came out and wowed the audience with her impersonation of a dandelion, complete with fluffy little white stuff on her head. (Sorry if this is too technical for you. When you've seen as much ballet as I have, you'll understand. And I know at least as much about ballet as the guy who sits behind me at the Angel games knows about baseball, as he tries to explain it to his girlfriend). Then two very tall green bugs (forest green, I think) come and stand on their tiptoes for about 5 minutes.

Then Jeslyn the bumblebee mesmerizes the audience with her virtuoso performance, accompanied by some lesser bumblebees and some bugs in mauve tights that I don't recognize.

Then comes the climactice scene where Jolie comes back and is entertained by another ant-grasshopper fight. Finally, she (in dance language, of course), says, "Can't we all just get along?" and the grasshoppers and ants make friends. It was very moving. The end.

In December I'll explain "The Nutcracker."

40 Days On Purpose

2009-04-23T08:16:00.000-07:00

Our pastor (among others) likes to point out the significance of the number 40 in the Bible, so I thought I would post SOMETHING to highlight my countdown to retirement that has reached 40 working days. Only problem is that I can't think of anything else to connect to the number 40 at this point, so I'm going to play with some other numbers--I like to play with numbers almost as much as my friend Heidi likes to shop for office supplies.
The numbers 3, 7 and 12 are also considered to be sacred numbers in Biblical culture.
So I'll start with 12, and thinking about that made me realize something I hadn't though of before. In my 36-year teaching career, I spent 12 years as an English teacher at Tustin High, 12 years as a math teacher at Tustin High, and 12 years as a math teacher at Foothill. That's 3 sets of 12, a Biblical daily double!! I also spent 12 years coaching boys basketball at THS and 12 years coaching girls basketball at the same school. My 12 years at Foothill have included girls basketball, as either the coach or athletic director. I didn't plan it that way, and haven't thought about it until now, but it makes me think Someone had a more than passing interest in my career.
Now about 7. Counting both schools I was part of 7 league championships in baseball, 7 league championships as a basketball coach (boys and girls), and 7 basketball championships as an athletic director. As a head or assistant coach, I had the privilege of coaching in the CIF finals in 7 different sports--Boys and girls track, boys and girls cross country, boys and girls basketball and baseball. Seven is the Biblical number of perfection, and I can't help but think that God led me down a career path that was perfect for my personality.
Three? The most obvious is 3 trips to the CIF finals in basketball as a coach (and 3 losses in the CIF finals as a coach). There are others probably, but the number 40 is coming up--I"ve spent 40 minutes talking about myself!!
So, with 40 days left to retirement--each one passing more slowly at this point--I can say with conviction that I have fought the good fight, kept the faith, and almost finished the course.

The Importance of Literacy

2009-04-16T07:57:00.000-07:00

Back To School--Yuck!!

2009-04-14T10:20:00.000-07:00

For years I have told anyone ready to listen that high school kids shut down after spring break. Never have I been able to relate to that as much as this year. Spring break this year was just a taste of the perpetual spring break I will be experiencing in a couple of months. I want it to be now!! Kids are great, my colleagues are great, the school is great, and I'd rather be anywhere but here. Actually, I WOULD rather be here than in the best hospital in Orange County. I'm sitting here during "reading period" which my 3rd period felons have turned into "talking period" and I have no desire to change that behavior. I pass the Jeff Foxworthy "You might be an educator..." test in that I know that there are 47 days, or 188 periods, or roughly 10,000 minutes left in my teaching career. My goal for the week is to submit my letter of resignation and begin my STRS retirement packet. Of course, I'll also give my all to combinations and permutations, simplifying radicals, factoring polynomials and all those other things that make us excited to be here.

What a Drag it is Gettin' Old

2009-03-30T10:08:00.000-07:00

Arrived at work with my usual Monday morning enthusiasm. As I was finishing taking roll and preparing to lecture in my 0 period class, a gracious young lady came up and whispered, "Mr. Falk, your shirt is inside-out."

More Than a Test Score

2009-03-25T19:44:00.000-07:00

I've spent the last few years with a rather low opinion of myself as a teacher. Why? Mainly test scores. Mine are low. Though they would be good at most schools, they are at the bottom as far as Foothill is concerned. I've done what I can to raise them, including observing another Algebra 2 teacher for the entire year last year to see what I was lacking. I learned a lot from that. But when it comes to a choice of applying the hammer or showing grace, I usually take the path of least resistance, which is showing grace. Every year I promise myself to be as tough as everyone else, then wind up a pushover. If a kid can't finish a test during the period, I'll give him/her more time, even though that increases the likelihood of cheating. My kids love me, their parents love me, but my colleagues don't have very high expectations where I am concerned. Thus my low teaching self-image.
I mentioned on my fB page about having dinner last weekend with a couple of members of the Tustin High class of 1980, one of whom I didn't know at the time, and another who was one of my favorites. This caused me to go looking back through some old yearbooks to remember what they looked like then, and the byproduct of that has been that my stock has risen in my own eyes. Naturally, some of the things were written by kids I honestly don't remember. But there were some very special things written by kids of either gender that reminded me why I got into teaching in the first place. Probably the most common phrase was, "You were more than my teacher, you were my friend." As I enter the last 3 months of this career, it is impossible to convey to you the meaning those words hold for me. So much of we do in education is not quantifiable, thus my frustration with being judged by test scores. Most of my former students are "successful" and it is impossible to tell how much of that was because of me and how much was in spite of me. But those yearbook scribblings, written up to 35 years ago, remind me that, "With all that I've done wrong, I must have done something right." As the years go by, memories of those test scores will fade for everyone, especially me. But I have 36 yearbooks to remind me of why I followed the path I believe God chose for me. And that doesn't include those of you who were in my Sunday School classes yet continue to speak to me!
I'm excited about the next phase of my life, serving my tax clients, deepening my involvement and service in my new church, adoring my family, traveling with Jan, and maybe even returning to coaching just for fun. But with the help of FB I have reconnected with about 300 former students now. They are my legacy. They tell me I made a difference. What more can anyone ask? (Oh, yeah, higher test scores!).

Mad At God?

2009-03-23T09:40:00.002-07:00

I've talked and blogged about being the poster boy for answered prayer. I feel I've been blessed far more than I deserve, and am extremely thankful. But there's one prayer that God is taking His time answering, and like any spoiled child, I'm angry that I'm not getting my way.

See, my Mom is still alive, and she, my sister and I wish that were not the case. It's hard to admit in the same sentence that I love my Mom and wish she were dead. Christians may understand that a little better because they know that something infinitely better awaits her, but it still seems very heartless to wish death on anyone. Those of you who wish you still had your mother, especially if they were taken at a young age, may not be very gracious toward me at this point.

Mom will never read this post. One reason is that she doesn't have a computer, and the other is that she is nearly blind in both eyes and cannot read. She's the one from whom I learned to love books, and she can no longer read them. I cannot discuss this post with her, because strokes have left her unable to converse with anyone who doesn't see her every day. She can't correspond with me, because her fingers are permanently bent. And she used to write for a living. So she is no longer, at age 92, able to do ANYTHING that she loved or was gifted to do. She wakes up, is lifted into her wheelchair, is wheeled to meals or the TV room, has her diapers changed, and goes back to bed. She has lost 3 friends in the last few weeks, and tells her friend Pat she doesn't think God wants her in Heaven. (Pat reads my letters to her and talks to her daily. I sent some of my blogs but Pat couldn't finish reading them because mom started sobbing uncontrollably).

I don't believe in euthanasia, and I even have a little trouble with a DNR instruction, because I believe it's God's decision when we take our last breath. And He's decided it's not part of His plan for her to die just yet. So I'm ticked at Him. (I'm sure that doesn't depress Him too much to call in sick from running the universe today.) He knows that, and He's OK with that. Most of the bad things in my life that have happened to me I deserved, and I get mad at myself, not God. But I just don't understand why prayers (mine, my Mom's and my sister's) for release from this earthly body have not yet been answered.

So, as before I'm asking for your prayers. If you can bring yourself to the point of praying like Mom, Karen and I, so be it. If you can't then pray that all of us will be more understanding as God does what He knows is best.

Songs I've Sung in Church #2

2009-03-21T07:38:00.000-07:00

Haven't blogged in about a week, which means maybe I've said everything I have to say! So I thought I would talk about another of my favorite songs, which I got to sing in church a few years ago.

This song has a history with me and with that church. One of my very good friends sang it four or five times and was never able to get entirely through it without becoming emotional. Verse 3 was especially meaningful for him as he thought of how it applied to his life. The song is an adaptation of a poem, and was popularized by Wayne Watson. It was special to me that I was able to sing it, as it definitely has applications for my life also.

The Touch of the Master's Hand

Well, it was battered and scarred, and the auctioneer thought

It was hardly worth his while

To waste much time on the old violin, but he held it up with a smile.

"Well, it's sure not much, but it's all we've got left.

I guess we ought to sell it, too.

So what am I bid for this old violin, just one more and we'll be through."

And then he cried, "One, give me one dollar, who'll make it two?

Only two dollars, who'll make it three?

Three dollars twice, now that's a good price.

Who's got a bid for me? Raise up your hands, don't wait any longer,

The auction's about to end. Who'll give me four, just one dollar more,

To bid on this old violin?"

The air was hot, and the people stood around as the sun was settin' low.

From the back of the crowd a gray-haired man came forward and took up the bow.

He wiped the dust from the old violin, and he tightened up the strings.

Then he played out a melody pure and sweet, sweeter than the angels sing.

Then the music stopped.

And the auctioneer, in a voice that was quiet and low, said,

"What am I bid for the old violin?" And he held it up with the bow.

And then he cried, "One, give me one thousand, who'll make it two?

Only two thousand, who'll make it three?

Three thousand twice, now that's a good price, now who's got a bid for me?"

The people cried out, "What made the change? We don't understand."

The auctioneer stopped, and he said with a smile, "It was the touch of the master's hand."

You know, there's many a man with his life out of tune,

Battered and scarred with sin. And he's auctioned cheap to a thankless world,

Much like that old violin.

But then the Master comes, and the foolish crowd, they never understand

The worth of a soul, and the change that is wrought

By the touch of the Master's hand.

Then he cried, "One, give me one thousand, who'll make it two?

Only two thousand, who'll make it three? Three thousand twice, now that's a good price.

Who's got a bid for me?" The people cried out, "What made the change? We don't understand."

The auctioneer stopped, and he said with a smile, "It was the touch of the Master's hand."

Michael W Smith Said it Best

2009-03-16T11:14:00.001-07:00

When I was 9 years old we lived about a block from the city limits of our small town. One day I walked towards the "country" and saw a boy named John playing at the corner house. He had just moved in from Oregon. Turns out we shared a love of all sports and we grew to be fast friends. His dad was a banker and got transferred away for a couple of years, but the family moved back to town in time for us to spend our last 3 years of high school together. We played basketball together--he was a varsity starter, I got cut my senior year--baseball together--I replaced him as the center fielder when he blew out his ankle our senior year, went to the same church. He loved music and had a beautiful voice. I supplied the lyrics when he forgot them. Today we would be called BFFs.
After high school he went to Pasadena College (now Point Loma Nazarene) and I went on an academic scholarship to USC. I was miserable, so through his efforts at "selling" me to the baseball coach, I transferred to Pasadena and played 3 years of baseball, met my wife-to-be, and formed other lifelong friendships. I also became friends with his 3 other brothers, rooming with his younger brother Terry my senior year before getting married to Jan in the middle of the year. Brother Tom sang at our wedding and John and Terry stood up for us. One of my most poignant memories of that time was when John sat down in my room and plaintively said, "I hear you guys are getting married." The realization our relationship was going to have a dramatic change was unsettling for him.
John and Terry moved to the Northwest after college and Tom settled in Central California. John is a community college administrator, Terry has his own law practice and Tom is now Superintendent of Schools in King City on the central coast of California. So we rarely see each other.
But the last few days have been one of thos serendipitous (sp?) moments when we return to the "thrilling days of yesteryear." It has become a tradition for the brothers to come down for the PAC-10 basketball tournament, and since we moved to Huntington Beach they stay with us for the 4 days of the tournament. We went golfing Friday and Saturday, basketball Wednesday through Saturday, and it was very apparent that if we lived in the same area we would be as inseparable as always.
We buy seats in the upper level because they are cheaper and then use all sorts of trickery to wind up in seats we didn't pay for. This year I was the lucky guy because on Friday I ran into a "kid" I coached in 79-81 and he had two extra seats on the floor which he gave to John and I. When UCLA lost he felt he had no reason to come back and gave us those 4 choice seats for the championship game between USC (one of my alma maters) and Arizona State (Terry is a grad of ASU law school). Terry left after the game to be with his wife, son and grandkids in San Diego. Tom drove back to King City with his wife who had flown down to ride back with him. John and I had Saturday evening to ourselves (Jan was at a wedding in Arizona), went to dinner at El Ranchito in downtown HB, watched a little basketball, and then I dropped him off at LAX on Sunday morning.
There was so much more to those 3 days that involved all of the little "triggers" that only lifelong friends care about. There was laughter, arguing (just the brothers of course), reminiscing, and remembering childhood friends that are no longer with us.
I've said for many years that one of the best things about heaven will be no more goodbyes. I was thinking about that after John gave me a quick hug and headed to the check-in counter. And I drove home humming, "Friends are friends forever......"

One Child Left Behind

2009-03-09T11:42:00.000-07:00

When I was a beginning teacher, I would have enthusiastically embraced, "No Child Left Behind," as a reachable goal--reachable if every teacher cared as much about their students as I did. Now as I prepare to leave this profession, I am a bit more jaded and "realistic." I realize that most teachers care as much, if not more, for their students as I do. But children do get left behind, and will continue to be left behind, because they are imperfect, and their friends are imperfect, and their parents (if they have them) are imperfect, and their teachers are imperfect.

Today's post is about one such student. I'll call him Jonathan, because that's his name and I doubt he will ever read this blog. Jonathan is in my Algebra 1A class, which is the lowest level of math we offer. Jonathan was also in my Algebra 1A class last year as a freshman. In this, his 4th semester of high school, he has passed PE and Auto Shop. I have met with his counselors, his parents, we have had a student study team, and nothing seems to change. Since this is his second time with me, he knows I give multiple versions of tests so that I can tell when someone copies because their answers are the same as someone with a different test. Yet, he has copied someone else's test. Three times. I am alternately angry, frustrated, tolerant, sympathetic, heartbroken and indifferent when it comes to this child.

When we had our study team, we asked Jonathan what he liked. He said, "Music and baseball." I immediately perked up. His band teacher gave him great marks for effort. We discussed with Jonathan the reality that he could not participate in either of these activities without passing grades. I asked our baseball coach if Jonathan had tried out. He had, and had been cut, partly because of lack of ability and partly because his attendance was sporadic. Two weeks after our meeting he was dropped from the band because he stopped showing up for that, too.

We search in vain for reasons why it has come to this with this child. His father is a pastor of a small hispanic church close to the school. So you know Jonathan has been prayed for. It sounds like his family often takes in other children, so it could be the classic case of a pastor who spends more time on other people's children than his own. But we can't assume that. He has been tested for special education and doesn't meet their mystifying criteria. It has come to this: My assistant principal has Jonathan's 16th birthday marked on his calendar, which is the day he can be sent to continuation school and become someone else's problem.

Jonathan is not a bad kid. He's not defiant. He's remorseful when caught cheating, not angry with me. I'm sure by this point that every time something goes wrong it just fits the image he has formed of himself.

So, why write about him? Because I don't know what else to do. Some of you may read this and say, "I know someone like him," or "That used to be me." And we know a God who changes people. I'm not praying for Jonathan to become an honor student. I'm not even praying that he graduates from high school, though that would be nice (the percentage of students in Algebra 1A, who graduate from our high school is about 35%). I'm praying that this child will make it in life. I'm praying that he will realize that the God his father preaches really does love him and has a place in his kingdom, and in this world, for him. I'm praying that he will somehow overcome the damage he has done to himself and that has been inflicted by others. And I'm asking you to do the same.

Songs I've Sung in Church #1

2009-03-07T21:23:00.000-08:00

One of the nice things about going to a smaller church is that I occasionally got to sing a song of my choosing (it was nice for me, can't speak for the rest of the congregation). I sang this song one year for Father's Day. I guess you could call the genre, "Empty Nest Country" It's by Trace Adkins. The title is "Then They Do."

In the early rush of morning, trying to get the kids to school
One's tuggin at my shirttail, another's locked up in her room.
And I'm yellin up the stairs, "Stop worrying about your hair, you'll be fine."

Now they're fightin in the back seat, I'm playing referee
Then someone's gotta go, the moment that we leave
And everybody's late--I swear I can't wait til they grow up.

(chorus)
Then they do
That's how it is
It's just quiet in the morning
Can't believe how much I miss
All they did and all they do
You pray every dream they dream of will come true
Then they do

Now the youngest (I inserted the name "Jeslyn") is off to college
She'll be leaving in the fall
And (Jolie's) latest boyfriend, called to ask if he could talk
And I get the impression, he's about the pop the question any day.
I look over at their pictures, sitting in their frames
I still think of them as babies, guess that'll never change
You pray all their lives, that someday they will find happiness

(chorus)

No more Monday PTA
No car pools or soccer games
Your work is done
Now you've got time that's all your own
You've been waiting for so long
For these days to come.

(Chorus)

On that particular Father's Day, Jennifer had a photo shoot with the girls in the morning and wasn't there for the start of the service. But she made it in time for me to sing it to her.

A Tax Man Looks at the Charitable Deduction

2009-03-03T11:32:00.000-08:00

There has been some ink given to the proposed changes in the charitable deduction on our income taxes. As it’s currently being considered it will not affect many people, but many are still up in arms, most notably the tax-exempt organizations. They have reason to be concerned, considering that of the major deduction categories (medical, taxes, interest and contributions), theirs is the only one that involves a choice made by the taxpayer. The medical community was not alarmed when the medical deduction was taken away for 95% of us, because they either get paid or refuse to treat us. Obviously we have no choice on taxes or interest that we pay, other than to be lifetime renters. But giving to charity is a choice, so if that deduction is taken away, many of those organizations will see a drop in their intake. My question is, should it be that way?

For me, the crux of the matter is this: If I give to my church or a charity ONLY because I get a tax deduction, is it really charity? That doesn’t fit my definition of a “cheerful giver.” Without actually putting words in his mouth, my guess is that my pastor would say, “If the only reason you give to the church is for the deduction, we don’t need your money.”

I give to my church to be obedient, to be sure. But I also give because I honestly believe that obedience is responsible for all of the financial blessings that I continue to experience. (And the unknown financial disasters from which I am so far protected). That makes me cheerful!

So, in that context, the prospect of losing my charitable deduction is a bother, but not something that will send me into either rage or depression. The deduction in its current state is a pleasant byproduct of my giving, nothing more.

Coincidence? I Think Not!!

2009-02-28T03:43:00.000-08:00

My son’s first job was with a place in Tustin called “Video Giant.” With his love for movies, it was a dream job. Then he got an offer to work in the video department at Tower Records and left Video Giant. Two months later, Video Giant went bankrupt.

After a couple of years, Tower fired him because of what they perceived as a security violation. Anybody been to Tower Records lately?

He then went to work for Wizards of the Coast, a computer gaming company that even sent him to the Seattle area for management training. He was an assistant manager at the store in the Beverly Center, when he decided he didn’t like retail and resigned. A few months later Wizards of the Coast went belly up.

He then went to work for a subprime lender at the height of the real estate market. I fear he may be personally responsible for the crash!! First Ameriquest, then Argent Mortgage. He was recently laid off by Citicorp. In my post of February 20, I made the statement “Citibank is in trouble!” This morning’s news chronicles that trouble, which is the reason for the latest slide in the Dow.

It’s obvious, isn’t it? Though he doesn’t have bankruptcy, he’s a carrier!!

So, my advice to his next employer: If you know what’s good for you, keep him happy!

Hymns I Love

2009-02-27T11:16:00.000-08:00

Many churches are still fighting the “hymns vs choruses” battle, and I have in the last couple of years joined one that has handled it in a prudent manner. I have a choice of attending a service where the music is the traditional hymns, or one where the music is contemporary with an occasional hymn that is usually more up tempo than the original. I have chosen the latter for a variety of reasons. . (I do find it ironic that those who are adamantly opposed to the “new” music have conveniently forgotten that many of our most beloved hymns started out as sacred words applied to popular saloon songs). But I find that in times of stress, I return to my roots, and my roots are in hymns

For example, the economic news today is not getting any better. I have Christian friends, whom I love dearly even though we have opposite political views, who seem happy that the market continues to reel under the new administration. They are evidently buying gold as a hedge against what they believe is a certain nationwide economic collapse. I don’t know enough about economics to know if they are right. I don’t know enough about economics to know which administration to blame. I don’t know if the meltdown will touch my seemingly impregnable State Teacher’s Retirement System. “I don’t know what the future holds…but I know Who holds the future.” That’s the hymn part. There’s probably a contemporary song that has the same message, but at age 60 I go with the familiar, and the familiar is established in hymns. We had another recently during our pastor’s “Spent” series. He is almost my age, and the hymn played for communion moved him so that he had to comment on it at its conclusion. “I sing because I’m happy. I sing because I’m free. For His eye is on the sparrow. And I know He watches me.”

We have a dear friend who just lost a dear friend to illness. She is grieving, and we are hurting for her. I’ve have lost very few people in life that are close to me, but I suspect that will change as I get older. When I am grieving for any reason, I usually wind up thinking of the lyrics of the song written over 100 years ago by Horatio Spafford. His wife and daughters were on an ocean voyage and the ship capsized. His daughters drowned. He took the next ship to England, and when the ship passed the spot where his daughters perished, he stood at the rail and wrote, “When sorrow like sea billows roll. Whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say, ‘It is well, it is well, with my soul.’”

I am a sinner saved by grace. I sometimes blow it. Through the books of people like Philip Yancey I have begun to understand just what the first sentence in this paragraph means. When I fail, and humble myself before my God, what happens? “He walks with me and He talks with me. And He tells me I am His own. And the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known.” If you are young and reading this, you probably have a newer song that does the same for you. But this one is so very special to me.

Our worship team occasionally begins the service with the hymn that begins, “I stand amazed in the presence of Jesus the Nazarene….” Ironically, they sing it much more slowly than the “original” version. And it’s beautiful. I think I sing alto when I sing along with them, because my mom was an alto and I remember standing next to her and singing it with her in church. How marvelous and how wonderful those memories.

It would be fun at some point to make a list of hymns that I love, and the contemporary song that conveys the same message. For example, the lines above from “In the Garden,” are very similar to “He Knows My Name.” “How Great Thou Art” is so similar to “How Great is Our God,” that arrangements put them together. I think I’ll make the list a retirement project.

Secrets of Keeping My Lunch

2009-02-22T11:30:00.000-08:00

I don’t have many original thoughts, so I tend to rely on other blogs for inspiration. My friend Mandy mentioned the travails of her son Jagger who had trouble keeping his steak and Gatorade down. I mentioned that I refuse to lose my lunch. She asked for my secret. Here goes—

In a nutshell, I don’t throw up because it scares me. I would rather endure a 72-hour nausea episode than endure a vomiting episode. This leads me to wax poetic.

I would rather be under a nuke
Than puke
I’d rather tease a group of skunks
Than blow chunks
I’d rather attend church in a dress and scarf
Than barf
(See if you can fill in the blanks from here on)
I’d rather be in the path of a crashing comet
Than _____
I’d rather go to Denmark and become a girl
Than ____ (4 letters, starts with “h”)
I’d rather give Jan the credit card and say, “splurge”
Than _____

I think you get my drift. For example, all of us are fearful of one day being diagnosed with cancer. For me, the worst part of that would be the prospect of the side effects of chemotherapy. If I accidently ate spoiled fish (another reason to avoid sushi) and had to drink ipecac to save my life, I would peacefully await death.

The last time I remember “failing” in my resolve, we lived in an apartment in Garden Grove, so that would have been around 1975. Of course, since I wait so long to upchuck (couldn’t thing of a rhyme for that one), it REALLY REALLY hurts when I finally do. Which makes me strengthen my resolve to make sure it never happens again. Which makes it worse when it finally does. IT”S A VICIOUS CYCLE. So when nausea sets in, what do I do? Thinking, “who will rescue me from this body of death,” I pray that it doesn’t end with an episode that feeds my regurgitaphobia. And for over 30 years, that prayer has been answered—(that’s what I REALLY mean when I tell people I feel like the poster boy for answered prayer).

So, in my lexicon, the worst disease in the world is bulimia. The thought that someone would commit that desecration ON PURPOSE is unthinkable to me. When we were first married, I was riding to San Diego with an uncle and Jan’s dad. All of a sudden, Jan’s Dad said, “pull over.” And right there, on the 5 freeway, he stuck his finger down his throat and self-pumped his stomach. I didn’t know him well enough yet to tell him what I was thinking, which was, “What evil supernatural creature spawned you?”

So, for future reference, if I say, “That’s enough to make me puke,” you’ll know I’m really upset with you.

The Love that is My Son

2009-02-20T10:46:00.000-08:00

My last blog was about my daughter, so I thought I’d share some thoughts on my relationship with my son. I’ll try to follow somewhat the same format as the other, with the theme being, life is better when they grow up.

Tim’s early school years were not without stress. He was small entering kindergarten, and they almost held him back until they realized, (teacher quote), “There was a genius inside that little body.” When he was preschool age, I was set to drive away from my church softball game when my friend brought me my son I had forgotten was there. This brain lapse occurred a few years later at the rental car agency on Kauai—we almost left for the airport without him. (Thank you, Dennis) He spent many hours in his youth at fields and gyms against his will. While Jennifer loved sports, Tim loved movies and drama. (I should have put both of those in the present tense). This love developed despite two sets of grandparents who were against going to the movies. So we all got in a little trouble when he was 6 or so, and hurt himself. His Nana said we’d pray to Jesus for it to get better. Tim said, “We don’t need Jesus, we have E.T.”
He got suspended in 3rd grade for using the magnifying glass to set fire to ants in the school playground. Didn’t turn him into a serial killer, though.
In church productions, he memorized his lines and everyone else’s. We have old super 8 movies of him in his Dinky the Donkey costume, mouthing everyone’s words as the play progressed.
He and I had numerous one-way lectures about his grades. It wasn’t until 8th grade during one of my tirades that he explained something to me that changed things forever, and made me wonder just how much damage I had caused over the years.
The haunting words of Harry Chapin’s “Cat’s Cradle” were on my mind a lot in high school, because it seemed like every time he was in a play at school, I had an out-of-town basketball game to coach.
But, in keeping with the theme that “it’s better when they grow up,” I can say the following. If he had stayed a little boy:
I wouldn’t have been able to continue the “family tradition” of weekly lunches at Barro’s pizza while he attended Tustin High School. (While Jennifer had ridden with me into the parking lot, Tim wanted to be let off a block away and walk so he wouldn’t be seen riding with Dad to school.)
I wouldn’t have been introduced to the works of Stephen King. Tim has always been a fan, and has been very astute at knowing which of his books I would like and ones I shouldn’t bother opening. (He may have been wrong in recommending “Misery”. Never liked Kathy Bates and I see her in every page in the book.). But I loved The Stand and the Dark Tower Series.
I wouldn’t have watched him grow into his job to the point where he was the “go-to” guy when anyone had a question
I wouldn’t have had a chance to affirm the first time he was terminated from a job. He came home and said, “Dad I got fired because I screwed up like I usually do.” While wondering how much of that self-image was my responsibility, I got a chance to tell him that the company made a big mistake and God had something better in store for him. (By the way, his first 3 employers went out of business shortly after he left. Since, he just got laid off in the mortgage crunch last week, Citicorp is in trouble!!)
I wouldn’t have had an opportunity to watch his incredibly tender heart, mostly directed towards his animals.
We wouldn’t have had a sounding board for our antipathy towards most things conservative.
I wouldn’t have watched him develop the value system that both his earthly and Heavenly fathers are proud of.
I wouldn’t have Anne
I wouldn’t have Sammy (Sheltie)
I wouldn’t have Pippin (Australian Shepherd)
John Eldridge in "Wild at Heart" writes than manhood can't be earned it must be bestowed, usually by one's father. So, my son, I dub thee, "Man."
If I may plagiarize, “This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased”

You Want them to Grow Up

2009-02-18T08:39:00.000-08:00

My friend Kristi posted pictures of her oldest this morning and talked of the bittersweet experience of having her take her kindergarten pretest, when it seemed she just started preschool yesterday. I remember those days with my children and grandchildren, and they always bring a sense of , "Where has the time gone?" On those occasions when my dreams contain my children, they are always under the age of 10, even though they are now in their 30s. I have these special memories of my life with Jennifer when she was a child. (I have special memories of Tim, also, and that will be a future blog)
"Away in a Manger" was our rock to sleep song. It wasn't limited to Christmas, it was a year-round song. Even today during Christmas season when we are together and hear or sing that song in church, we exchange a special look to remind us of those times.
There was the time when she was 2 when she stepped on a hot waffle iron (we had a very small apartment) and burned the skin off the bottom of her foot, and I had to hold her while they changed the dressing. She remembers Daddy's comforting words. Daddy remembers the lightbulb experience of glimpsing a little of how Jesus felt when he died for us.
When she was six she taught daddy an evangelistic lesson. I wanted her to get rid of an abusive friend. She was worried that no one else would tell her about Jesus and invited her to church.
Those are just a few. My blogging friends all have children this age, and their blogs are full of lifetime memories such as I've just shared.
But I have this to say to those parents (including Jennifer) who are filled with mixed emotions as their children get older: You want them to grow up.
If Jennifer hadn't gotten older, I wouldn't have the memories of our weekly lunches at Barro's when she was attending the high school where I taught
I wouldn't have the picture of her with her head on my shoulder while she was keeping stats for my basketball team.
I wouldn't have watched her coach my JV basketball team, thinking of corrections for her girls before I did.
I wouldn't have been able to watch her comfort her brother as he put our 16-year-old beagle down.
I wouldn't have sung "Heirlooms" in a duet with her at a church Christmas program.
I wouldn't have danced with her at her wedding, her head on my shoulder as the DJ played, "Can't Smile Without You."
I would have missed the bittersweet moment, getting ready to walk her down the aisle, when the soloist did an impromptu switch from "The Wedding Song," to, "where are you going, my little one, little one? Where are you going, my baby, my love? Turn around and she's tiny, turn around and she's grown, turn around, she's a young wife, with babes of her own."
I wouldn't have Jeff.
I wouldn't have Jolie.
I wouldn't have Jeslyn.
I wouldn't be wiping tears right now.
So, my 30-something friends who watch your little ones get older, let me remind you: It just gets better.

Where I am Right Now

2009-02-15T17:16:00.000-08:00

I tend to ramble--I should probably rename my blog "Rambling Man"--and I like to talk about myself--see the first comment on blog #1. The nice thing about a blog as opposed to listening to me in person is that you can close down the blog without hurting my feelings, something that's a little harder to do in person. See, I'm rambling already!

I am a soon-to-be-retired high school teacher. 82 working days left, to be exact. I have been counting down for about 5 years. One of my college classmates who is now president of a seminary, asked a couple of years ago, "then, what's your next adventure?" Didn't have one then, but have been praying for a new passion. Had a VERY small tax business because it was fun, and hoped to build it. God had bigger ideas.

About 6 months ago through a series of "coincidences" I got connected with a guy who is retiring from doing taxes after 66 years. His practice is roughly 15 times what mine is now, and he is turning it all over to me. (Tithing lesson: the projected income from this is roughly 10 times what we've been giving to our church building project). So there was money potential, but no passion.

Then I started going around with him and meeting his clients. I've met about 10 so far, and all but one are senior citizens. At least 3 of those are suffering from varying degrees of dementia. His practice once numbered over 600 clients and now he's down to around 250, and none of the 350 he lost is currently worrying about income tax, if you get my drift. I saw fear in their eyes as I was introduced as his successor, because he is their friend and they don't want him to leave them. He told me he has been wanting to retire for at least 3 years, but didn't want to turn the business over to just anyone and leave his clients hanging. So far, 100% of the clients he has talked to have said they will continue with me.

So, suddenly, I have my passion. I don't want to be their tax man. I want to be their friend who does their taxes. As far as I am concerned, this business is my Malachi 3:10 reward, and the "windows of heaven" that have been opened have nothing to do with money. May God find me faithful to the charge He has given me.

Baby Steps

2009-02-15T15:42:00.000-08:00

Ok, blogging friends. This is as far as I've gotten so far. Help.