T - Mr Tracy

I was never what you would call an exemplary student. In my graduating class of 27 students, I was ranked #14. Exactly in the middle. Now, this only considers the GPA of the students. It's the only tangible number that can be used for measurement.

Despite my ranking, I believe I can honestly say that it did not reflect my intelligence. Of all the students in my class, I tied with another student for the highest score on the ACT. When the military came to our school and gave us all the ASVAB test, I scored well beyond the person who came in second. I spent the next two years fending off recruiters who wanted me to work in their nuclear program.

NOTE: I am pro-military. I just know me. I would never have survived the rigors of military life.

I was the epitome of what adults and teachers like to call "wasted potential." The potential was there and they saw it now and then, but it was rarely tapped into. Although I hated hearing the motivational or shaming speeches at the time, I now know there were two huge reasons for me not striving to achieve.

1. My extreme apathy
2. My even more extreme laziness

It was as simple as that. As a teenager, I just didn't care that much. I could not realistically see far enough into the future to understand why the grade I received on a freshman geography pop quiz would negatively impact my chances of getting promoted in corporate America.

I was very good at memorizing stuff, so I nailed those Shakespearean monologues we had to perform in class.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!

I scored a 100% on that monologue and an ovation from the teacher because I performed it so well, but I've never once been asked to do it in a job interview. Which is a shame because I was really good at it for some reason.

I was quite content with my C average. It never bothered me, but sure bothered my parents. In fact, any time I pushed a little in class for the better grade, it was because my parents wanted me to.

I am not getting down on my parents. They were right and I was wrong. I just did only as much as I had to do to stay out of trouble. It was my life philosophy concerning basically everything. Yet, there was one teacher who did not accept it.

Mr. Tracy was the bane of my existence throughout my high school career. He was my biology/botany teacher.

An additional misfortune I possessed was a mother who worked in the cafeteria at my school. With her so close, it was incredibly easy for any teacher to visit her. In fact, they didn't even have to make a special trip since they would just see her at lunch time. Mr. Tracy was quite adept at this practice. He kept her informed of every assignment and my grade on each. One year they even had a standing weekly appointment for her to come in and go through my work for the week. It sucks to have a parent who cares about your future so much.

Mr Tracy would keep me after class at least three times a month to discuss not only my poor excuses for homework but also my personal life. He wanted to know what I found so important because it certainly wasn't school.

Mr Tracy was a big believer in the importance of developing your brain, getting a good education, striving for a lifetime of learning. At least once a week he would get frustrated with his class and lecture us about the importance of being a critical thinker. And then, the even bigger importance of having enough information in your head to give you the ammo to be able to think critically.

He pushed and pushed and pushed and never let up. No matter how well you did, he showed you that he thought you could do even better.

One year, the night before the semester exam, I crammed with Stephanie (also in my class) late into the night. We drilled each other on the parts of a plant, photosynthesis, genus and species of various local flora and almost memorized entire chapters of the science book. I knew that material. The next day, I confidently turned in my exam (which was all essay questions; Mr Tracy did not believe you could check understanding with multiple choice or fill-in-the-blank).

Two hours later, Mr Tracy shows up in PE class and asked to see me. I cautiously approached him and he showed me the test. I HAD SCORED A 98! I was ecstatic…until I saw the look on his face. He was not happy.

He drug me out in the hall and told me how disappointed he was. I told him I was happy that I was only two points away from perfect. And he should be too.

He took off his glasses and lowered his head. It looked like he was trying to hold back tears. He said, "You still don't get it. You have carried a 'D average' in my class all semester. And then because of one night of actually putting in a little effort, you get a nearly perfect score. How can you not see what you are capable of if you would only try?" He dropped my test on the floor and walked off.

That was the last time I ever talked to him. I graduated a few days later.

I went to community college the next year and flunked out in the second semester. His words had done nothing for me.

Over the course of the next 10 years, my life just ambled along. I did alright but never accomplished anything noteworthy. Got married, divorced and married again while I bounced from job to job. Eventually, I decided to go back to school, but this time it was different. This time I wanted to be there. After a few papers came back with 'reasonably acceptable' results, a professor left a note on a paper telling me that he was surprised I had not scored better due to the quality of my discussions in class. Suddenly, the despised words of Mr. Tracy came flooding back to me.

All of those speeches and disappointed looks he had given me for four years in high school hit home. I got it. Someone next to me could have probably seen the figurative light bulb go off over my head.

In that moment, my entire approach to school completely changed. The lowest score I've gotten for a class since then was a 97.6. I even went on to get my Master's Degree and graduated with a 4.0.

It took 15 years to kick in, but Mr. Tracy finally got into my head. I am living a dream life today (on the coast in Vietnam) because of the lessons he never gave up on teaching. I did not appreciate it at the time, but for the last 20 years I have always named him as my favorite teacher. It just took me a while to recognize it.

Mr. Tracy, wherever you are, thank you.

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This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

Q - Quixotic (Chuck)

Today's post for this month's theme of people who have affected my life is dedicated to Chuck McMichael.

And Chuck gets the letter Q because someone had to get it and it has proven difficult to get everyone assigned to each of the letters. I chose the word quixotic because, much like Don Quixote, Chuck is always ready to take on the world. Even if it just beats him up.

I met Chuck in college. Chuck, like me, foolishly took on the rigors of higher education after getting married and having children. In fact, all my old friends from college were in the same situation. I think the harrowing experience of us getting together each night to lament "What were we thinking?" was the common bond that cemented our lifelong friendships.

Chuck's family and mine all lived in the same apartment building in Married Student Housing. They even lived in the same stairwell. Sometimes one of us could just yell out the front door and get the other's attention.

Because all the people in the complex were in the same basic situation (classes all day, part-time job, family life, finding time for homework, etc), we had somewhat similar schedules. Our lives did not have room for homework until the kids were down for the night, so we all kept late hours. It was mostly during those late hours that I got to know Chuck.

Stepping outside for a study break, we would sometimes run into each other. We also shared many of the same classes so one of us might wander over to the other's apartment to compare notes or discuss the complexities of a paper we were writing. However, Chuck and I both are more than happy to take advantage of socializing and often burned many more hours talking than we should have.

1998 - Chuck (on right) and I probably discussing
video games rather than our assignments

With time, our families became more involved with each other. One semester, I kept his youngest kid at my house while Chuck went to his afternoon class. We each had a daughter the same age, so they were always together at one of our houses. Being poor college students, there was always the situation of borrowing each other's pots and pans, a cup of milk, a couple of eggs, etc. We had a lot of fun struggling through those college years together.

There were other families that lived in that stairwell also, but most of them were forgotten once we all went our separate ways. Chuck's family is one of the few that stayed close. When I left school to go on the mission field, Chuck became my stateside liaison. If there was something we needed, he took care of it. He even drove five hours to pick us up from the airport at midnight when we returned to the States. He then drove us six hours to our families (while we slept) and then another two hours to get himself back home.

Once back in the States, we each made regular trips to each other's houses to visit. And there were a lot of phone calls (still are today). Chuck was one of the main people who I talked to when I was going through my divorce. A few years later, the situation was reversed and I got to do the same for him.

When Red and I decided to have a small wedding in her parents' backyard, Chuck was the first person I called. I wanted him to officiate and he was happy to do it. He is getting married this year and asked me to do the same for him. I'm on the other side of the world, so it just wasn't possible. I hate that this distance will keep me from even attending his wedding, but he understood.

Chuck has always been immediately ready to jump at whatever needs to be done to help out his friends. He has proven to be a much better friend than I could ever hope to be to anyone.

Chuck is someone who I expect to stay in contact with for the rest of my life and I highly value that relationship.

Chuck, thank you for your unwavering integrity and constant willingness to be there. I am so grateful that our paths crossed 20 years ago and we did not waste them.

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This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

F - Jayson Ferguson

I feel that I have to give a bit of a disclaimer before I start this post. All month, I have been participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day I write a post based on a letter of the alphabet and my theme for the month has been people who have deeply impacted my life. It has been fun.

I expect today to be fun as well, but I have two concerns.

1. We have a friend visiting from out of town and we took her to the beach this morning. While there I holed up in a bar and drank many beers.
2. Today's post is about the man I consider to be my best friend and with all the alcohol in my system, I worry that it may be pretty sappy.

Here goes:

Today's post is about a man named Jayson Ferguson. The most arrogant and self-confident person I have ever met in my life.

I met Jayson about 20 years ago. After I was married and had two children, I decided to go to college (not the way I recommend doing it). I went to a Bible college and they had a side class called Spiritual Formation Groups. This wasn't really a class. It was a group of 10 to 12 students of the same year as you that you met with once a week. The time was spent doing a short Bible study and getting to know each other. This was typically your first group of friends since it was a small group setting. The members were expected to be there for each other, share advice, pray for each other and just generally be an encouragement as we all tackled school together.

The school did their best to put people of the same types together, but I had resisted. They had five main groups for each gender.

• Freshman
• Sophomore
• Junior
• Senior
• Non-traditional

They figured people of the same age would have more in common and (today) I agree. Now, technically, I was what you would call a 'non-traditional student'. There were three criteria to get this label. If you were married, had children or were over 30 years old, you were considered to not be one of the traditional students. I met all of those criteria. However, I had worked with youth for years before going to school and still considered myself young at heart. I insisted that I should be placed with the other incoming freshman.

Reluctantly, my advisor allowed this. It took about two weeks for me to realize I had made a big mistake. I may have had the ability to relate to the youth of the day, but they could not really relate to me. As we shared about our lives and the things we struggled with while in school, I was the only one who had children and was married. When I shared, the advice they offered was ridiculous. These guys meant well but had no idea what they were talking about. Our daily struggles were not at all the same.

I transferred to a non-traditional Spiritual Formation Group the next semester.

There, I met a whole new bunch of guys. Several of them I still talk to today. Jayson was a part of that group. The first week, I shared that I had been at school for a whole semester and I was a little worried about my wife. I was meeting new people every day in class, but she hadn't really made any friends. Jayson immediately invited us to his house for dinner that weekend to meet his wife. He had the same problem.

That weekend, all of us immediately hit it off. Over the course of the next years in college, we all hung out at each others' houses. We babysat each others' kids. We picked each other up from work when needed (poor college students). We went on double dates. We all got along great. I have hundreds of pictures of our children playing together.

Jayson and I had a similar sense of humor and loved to play practical jokes on people. We often sacrificed an entire night of sleep to sabotage the cars of our professors so they could not make it to class or bricked their office doors shut. In the summer, we got a group of other non-traditional students together to play Lazer Tag on the campus when there were no other students there. It was a great few years.

When I left school and moved to Puerto Rico, Jayson was one of the few college friends who kept in touch. Years later, after I had gotten divorced, my daughter and I moved to the same town as Jayson and Ellen (his wife) because I looked for a job in their area. It was great to be around my old friend again. While there, my daughter started dating his son.

Our careers eventually took us in different directions again, but years later I was remarried and we went to go spend a week with them in Florida. The bond was still there. It was a great week.

Today, we are twelve time zones apart but I still consider Jayson to be my best friend. We talk about once a month to stay caught up and look forward to the day when we can get together and cause a little trouble again.

Each of these A to Z  Challenge posts has been about someone who I feel has impacted my life and Jayson is one of those people. Jayson is the man who has reminded me many times when I am concerned about the way something I have done is perceived, "The lion never concerns himself with the opinion of the sheep." Jayson does not waste his time wondering about what other people think of him. He advises that as long as you are not hurting other people, then just let you be you. I try to remember that every day.

He and I were part of a search party in college looking for another friend who had disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Digging through drainage ditches at 3 a.m. and walking cornfields looking for a body leads to a lot of deep conversations and reflection about what being a friend means.

I got into some legal trouble while in college and Jayson immediately stood up to go confront my accusers and defend my character. We have each lent each other money in tough times and listened to each other when the other was going through a rough patch. He has been a true friend.

The plan for years has been to retire in the same town so we can make life difficult for our neighbors. That is still years away but I am really looking forward to it.

Jayson, I have to say "I love you, man."

I had to add the man onto the end. Otherwise, it sounds gay.

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This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

E - ESL at John Wesley

For those of you who may not know, I live in Vietnam. Before coming to Vietnam, I spent two years in Beijing, China. I have lived in these countries because of my job. I teach English to non-English-speaking people. I actually have a Master's Degree in TESOL.

Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages

I have done a lot with this degree, but it didn't start out that way.

Working on the degree, I obviously had a lot of classes to take and papers to write. However, the most challenging part was getting my practicum hours accomplished. I had to complete 120 hours of instruction myself before getting the actual degree.

Unfortunately, I lived in a small town that didn't have many opportunities for me to be able to teach English. I checked around everywhere and could not find anything. The closest I came was the local high school. They had a 16-year-old boy who had recently moved there from India. He spoke a regional Indian dialect and had no knowledge of English at all. I went to the school and offered my services to teach the boy English since no one there was qualified in this type of education. They thanked me profusely and said they had been worried about what they were going to do with the boy. However, the background checks and legal hoops required to allow me to go through the school were quite extensive and the school really drug its feet on getting things done on their end.

I eventually moved to Indianapolis to have more opportunities. I even found an apartment in the middle of their unofficial Mexican district. This part of the city had so many Spanish-speaking immigrants that many of the street signs were in Spanish rather than English.  I figured this would be the perfect place to find what I needed.

The day after I unpacked I walked into a community center to see if they knew any place where a person could go to learn English. A woman there told me "I think the church up the road used to do something like that." So I headed up there to check it out.

I pulled into the parking lot at John Wesley Free Methodist Church and stepped inside. I met the Associate Pastor and explained to him what I was looking for. He broke into a huge smile and invited me to sit down so he could explain their English Outreach program.

They taught English once a week right there in the church. Every Wednesday night and the next session of classes would be starting in only two weeks. He was thrilled to see me because they were still a few teachers short. He gave me the books they would be teaching out of and asked me to come back the next week to help with the registration of students.

I was thrilled to have found a place to meet my hours so soon, but I knew it would not be enough. Teaching a two-hour class once a week would not add up very quickly. I contacted my academic advisor to let her know that I had finally found a place to teach but would need to find another also. She told me that preparation time counted as well as teaching. Awesome. That would add a bit more time, but I would still need more.

After two weeks of teaching, I realized there was a major problem with the church's entire English-teaching system. The church had six different classes being offered at three different English proficiency levels. There were one or two teachers in each class, but every teacher was just a well-meaning volunteer who had no actual idea of how to teach language acquisition. Plus, the book that was provided was basically just a nice picture dictionary. It was not a textbook and offered no guidance for a classroom setting.

This meant that there was no lesson structure provided. Each teacher just did the best they could from the book. For myself, I was writing up complete lesson plans for each week. Soon it was discovered that all of the teachers could use a lesson plan. Over the course of the next month, this program was basically turned over to me and I redesigned the entire thing. I put together lesson plans, worksheets, computer files, and instructional materials for each of the age groups and proficiency levels while also convincing the church to change to a different book for the classroom. I also taught a few classes to the teachers of the classes to help them know better how to teach this subject. It was amazing.

What had started as a search for a place to teach evolved into an opportunity to use much more of my education. I was doing program management, curriculum development, language assessments, and teacher training. It was a lot of work, but all this extra work meant that I met the hours needed for my degree very quickly. Plus, it gave me a lot of hands-on experience in a volunteer setting before actually entering into the professional workforce.

ESL is an intimidating field and I was quite nervous about how my career was going to work out. I am so thankful for having landed at John Wesley. They did not pay me for my services. This was a volunteer ministry, but they did thank me publicly several times. They wrote me glowing recommendation letters. They gave me some fantastic experience. And most importantly, they provided me with a safe environment where I could develop my confidence and learn that I really could do this.

So much of the awesome life I live today is due to the opportunity that church gave to me and being willing to take a chance on the stranger who just wandered through their doors one afternoon.

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This month, I am participating in the A to Z Challenge. Each day this month, people around the world are writing blog posts and working their way through the alphabet. Each person decides their own personal theme. I am writing about people who have affected my life.

Life is Good

Several years ago, I made the fateful decision to combine my gift for teaching with my love for foreign culture and entered into a graduate TESOL program. I started working on my Master's Degree to teach English to speakers of other languages. I had always been fascinated by people from other countries and thought this would be a great way to get to work with them on a regular basis.

This decision led me to move to a bigger city where there would be more opportunities to work with foreigners. Soon after updating my Facebook profile about my intentions (not only for a job, but for school requirements also), I got the attention of someone in China.

After completing my degree, I accepted that job and the adventure began.

Five years ago, the furthest I had ever traveled was Puerto Rico. I had never even needed a passport. In the time since I made the above Facebook post, I have been to Germany, China, Canada, Turkey, Taiwan, Vietnam and Hong Kong. My wife and I have spent the last two and a half years living outside the United States. We currently live on the coast in central Vietnam.

My life is far from perfect, but I love it. This is the happiest I have been in my entire adult life. I love the house we live in. I love that we are in a small coastal town where it never gets cold. I am one of the lucky few in the world who actually loves his job. And I am married to a beautiful, intelligent woman whom I adore. Life is good.

I Think I'm Back

You know, it's really easy to maintain a blog when you are only posting once every few months.

I feel that I owe you all an apology. My writing has really slacked off in the last year. I do have a reason for this, but most people don't want to hear excuses. That doesn't mean I won't offer any, it just means most people don't like hearing them and fortunately for me, I am not most people. I am only me and me has been busy.

However, I have reason to believe that my writing is about to start up again. Mainly, because the thing that has kept me so busy has just come to an end. After several years of hard work, I finally completed my Master's Degree. This means that I have a lot of spare time now as compared to the last 30 months.

DISCLAIMER: It's pat myself on the back time.

Plus,  I graduated with a 4.0 GPA. I got straight A's through the entire program. This means the very thing I am always telling my family, neighbors, co-workers, and students:
I AM A GENIUS!

Since I am a genius, I have a social responsibility to share my intellectual insights with the rest of the world. Therefore, I will start writing again this week. Plus, a woman at my new church just discovered my blog and I need to produce some new stuff for her to read. I wouldn't want to give her the wrong impression before she gets to know me personally.

Around the World (not quite) in 80 Days

80 DAYS!!!

Eighty days is how long it has been since my last blog post. That's a long time considering that shortly before that post, I vowed to post at least twice a week. Let me try to catch you up on my world a little bit. Some major changes have happened in my life since I last wrote.

I have mentioned many times that I'm working on a graduate degree for Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages. I am now sixty percent of the way through my degree and should graduate in August. However, there has been some concern over my graduation date for the last several months.

In addition to my classes, I am required to do 100 hours of practicum in this field. In other words, I have to find a place to start teaching English before I graduate and start doing it. I have now been in this program for a year and have yet to acquire a single hour. But this is not for lack of trying.

My problem was due to living in a small town with little cultural integration. My hometown has a small population of Spanish speakers and a Chinese restaurant whose employees who do not seem to have a decent grasp of English. There are virtually no English language classes anywhere in the area. I called the local community college to see if I could assist in their ESL (English as a Second Language) courses. They told me they only offer one ESL class every year and no one ever signs up.

Only one high school in the area had a foreign student. That one student had moved from India with his family and only spoke Kashmiri. In the entire world, less than 6 million people speak this language, so it's not easy to find translators for this language. Especially in Southern Illinois.

When I went to the high school to offer my assistance (my FREE assistance, by the way), it was met with much excitement in the counseling office. They basically had no system in place to help this kid who was months away from having to take his ACT and could not speak a word of English. My daughter said he just sat in class and nodded when anyone spoke to him. There would be some legal hoops to jump through, but they were very excited that someone from this field was offering to help. One of them even said that my walking into the office was an answer to her prayers for this kid. Since I was already certified to substitute teach in the school and had been doing so for over a year, I didn't expect it would take very long. However, after a few months, I still couldn't get into the classroom.

Not again!

I finally gave up and talked to the district office for the elementary schools in the area. They showed the same exuberance as the high school. They had a few students who really needed help and were excited to have me available. They even contacted my college advisor to properly coordinate and be sure I would get my credits. However, they never actually made it happen either. Every time I checked in, they would tell me to come back later or explain that it was taking longer than expected. Once again, I had lost several months and was running out of time.

Not long ago, I was sitting in Red's apartment in Indianapolis when someone knocked on the door. He wanted to know if there were any Spanish speakers in the apartment. They were starting an English language course at the apartment complex and wanted to make sure anyone who might be able to benefit from it was aware.

Unbelievable! I had been unsuccessfully struggling to get into one of the extremely limited courses back home and in Indianapolis the opportunities just come knocking on the door. The only thing keeping me from getting my hours was where I lived. A few weeks earlier, my advisor had jokingly made a comment suggesting the same thing. I had just become convinced that she was right.

It took some effort to pull it off, but two weeks ago, I moved to Indianapolis. Two days later, I found a place to start teaching three blocks away from my apartment. It took almost no effort and there are teaching opportunities all over this city.

Plus, I now live in the same city as my girlfriend! No more 200 miles commutes every other weekend.

For those of you who have been following our story, I guess this is our next big step. We started out 900 miles apart. Almost two years ago, it dropped to two hundred miles. And now, she is a 10 minute drive from my apartment.

Life is pretty good right now. Now, I just need a job.

"E" is for ESL

In about another 15 months, I will have my Master's Degree in TESOL.

Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages

Sometimes it's called ESL, which stands for English as a Second Language. Basically, my job will be to teach English to people who do not speak English. Whether it is because they have moved to an English speaking country and need to learn to better communicate in their new surroundings or they are still in their home country, but need to learn for another reason, I will have the tools to help them.

English has spread throughout most of the world and continues to grow rapidly. English has become the major language of international commerce and a number of other fields. English language teacher is the second most high demand job in the entire world second only to computer technology jobs. I am not concerned with being able to find work once I graduate, but am really curious as to where I will end up.

Qualified English teachers are needed in literally every country in the world and I have no reservations about leaving the country to accept a job. In fact, I think I prefer it. I love culture and would love to settle down in some remote corner of the world. It would be better than just passing through as a tourist.

In my studies, I am learning that it is about much more than just teaching language. Since up to 80% of our message is nonverbal, I have to ensure that my students can properly communicate with more than just their words. Plus, every culture has hundreds of customs that have nothing to do with language that do not translate from one country to another.

How to eat spaghetti in Japan

In some countries, shaking the head means 'yes' while in other countries it looks almost like a shrug.In Kazakhstan, sitting on the edge of a desk or table is incredibly rude. The 'thumbs up' gesture so common here in the States is offensive in most of the rest of the world, as is the sign for A-OK. In Thailand, you should never touch a person's head or pass something over it. In many countries, people touch more than us Americans are used to. This includes holding hands. Here, that is usually reserved for couples, but in some Latin American countries men hold hands and it means nothing romantic.

I have to teach my students about eye contact, how to shake hands and even give them lessons on history, politics, cinema and literature to help them better understand the American mind. I am quickly learning that speaking a language is only the tip of the iceberg for being able to successfully navigate another culture. I'm so ready to get out there and get started.

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Happily participating in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. For the entire month of April, 1,968 bloggers are working their way through the alphabet. One letter every day but Sundays for a total of 26 days.

Click here to visit the website and get more information to see if you might want to join in next year. It's a lot of fun, introduces you to hundreds of new blogs and gives your writing some fantastic exposure.

Pretty Blue Toenails

This post is a response to Finish the Sentence Friday...
at Can I Get Another Bottle of Whine with My Morning Quiet Time?

This weeks question:
One time when I was bored out of my mind…

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When I was in college, I was what the college labeled a 'non-traditional' student. I was not considered traditional because I was over 25 years old. I could also get that label from having children. The third way was to be married. I met all three of those criteria. I was a 30 year old married man with two kids.

While I have no regrets about going back to college, I will advise people that what I did is NOT the way to do it. Do what you have to do, but if you have the opportunity to plan it out, do college first. Turning in poop stained term papers from changing a diaper while doing your homework is always a possibility otherwise. Most professors will mark off for a paper that literally stinks.

I had always thought of myself as still a young person until I had this adventure. The kids (and I choose that term purposefully) I sat in class with did not relate to my life. I made a few friends, but we were at different places in maturity. Plus, in the summertime, they all left campus and went home. We had actually moved there and lived in married student housing. The campus was our home year round. Technically, we lived on campus despite it not being in the dorms and in the summertime the place was dead.

I enjoyed my years at school, but without classes to go to the summers left us with a lot of free time. I often found myself doing things I would never normally do, but I had time to kill. It was this extra time that lead to a moment that I am less than proud of.

Our third summer in college, my daughter was four years old and had just discovered make up and understood the concept of getting pretty and playing dress up. Of course, she hadn't started wearing make up yet, but sometimes her mother and her would play with lipstick, blush and mascara. Kirsten loved doing this.

One Saturday morning, Kirsten brought me some nail polish and wanted me to paint her toenails. I had done this a few times before and had actually gotten pretty good at it. I kept the colors inside the lines and everything. Once I got her toes looking all pretty, she asked if she could do mine.

Not my feet, but best picture I could find of color.

She didn't normally get to play with fingernail polish because of the huge potential for a mess, especially in the hands of a four year old, but I decided to let her have a little more fun. So, we stepped out onto the balcony and I let her do my toenails. It may not be the most manly thing to do, but I was bonding with my daughter…AND for a four year old, she did a marvelous job. We cleaned up the spots were she got a little off target and when it was finished, they looked pretty good. I now had sparkly blue toenails.

We sat outside and drank sweet tea while we let our nails dry. It was a beautiful day, we had just had a good time together and I didn't give what I had done a second thought…until my wife saw them. After she finished laughing, she gave me a hard time about it, but it was soon forgotten.

The next day, I was out in the playground with my kids. Soon, a few other fathers came to join us and it wasn't long until one of them looked down at my bare feet and commented on my pretty toes. He called out for everyone within earshot to come look at my feet.

Knowing that I had been discovered and also knowing that I was amongst friends, I proudly showed them off and withstood all the teasing, well aware that it was going to come for a long time after this. I decided right then that when I went back in the house, I needed to take the time to remove the polish. I didn't regret putting it on, but there was no reason to keep it.

When lunchtime came around, I gathered my kids and started back to my apartment. As I rounded the corner, I ran into the Dean of Students. He had come by to welcome a few new families who would be starting in the fall. We exchanged a few pleasantries and he suddenly stopped talking as he glanced down and noticed my toes sparkling in the sun. He just stared at them silently for a few seconds as I tried to curl my toes under my feet.

When he looked up again, he slowly finished what he was saying and excused himself. He didn't ask about the polish and I didn't offer any explanation. In fact, I don't think I said a word. I just stood there. Red-faced.

I removed the polish as soon as I got back to the apartment. The Dean has still never asked about the blue toes.

---

One time when I was bored out of my mind…I polished my toenails.

In The Beginning...

In my November 27th post, when I asked my readers to submit questions, I received a one about writing from Brandi Boddie of Penning Praises.

Her Question:

I've been reading your blog for a little over a year, but I wanted to know how you got started writing.

At first, I had a simple, quick answer for this question, but then it occurred to me that it is not as simple as I first thought. Honestly, my answer would have to be 'I don't know.'

My original answer was only going to address this blog. My daughter had just started dating a boy who showed me his blog. He had one as a result of a school assignment, but still maintained it because he enjoyed doing it. In his blog, he critiqued events that happened in pop culture. He gave his take on recent songs, dance crazes, movies, etc.

After he showed me around his site, he said, "You should start one. It's really a lot of fun."

So I did...it really was that simple. It was something to do. Why not?

That was October of 2010. It took me a little while to discover my voice, but once I did my readership started to grow. However, upon further reflection, I can't really say that was the beginning of my writing.

Everyone writes in school. There are pages and pages of things I wrote in elementary and high school that no longer exist. I don't even remember them. I really don't remember writing until my senior year of high school. That year I took Journalism. I didn't take it because I was interested in writing. I needed four English credits and really didn't want to take English IV. I had heard it was a horrible class and hoped to avoid it. Journalism would give me the last credit that I needed.

The class was awesome. There were only twelve of us in the class and we ran the school newspaper. It published once every two weeks. We were each responsible for filling two pages worth of material. That was it! There were no tests, nothing to study for, and no real assignments. Just write.

Tipping your hat to a lady:
What if it's a man in drag?

We each had our specialties. One person covered sports. Another paid attention to the various clubs. I was the entertainment editor. Which basically meant I did a movie review in every issue. Beyond that, I could write whatever I wanted and I did. Most of it was humor based, like the stuff I write now. I created one recurring feature similar to Dear Abby where I answered questions about proper etiquette, however I was also the person writing the letters. The questions posed to me were always some incredible, bizarre situation asking my advice on how to properly handle it. For a different article about how to convincingly feign sickness in order to stay home from school, I won a state journalism award.

I loved that class, but never really considered myself a writer. I put my pen down as soon as I graduated. My first semester of college, I was in a creative writing class. I didn't choose this class. It was required.

The professor made us keep a writing journal. On top of any other assignments we may have, we had to make an entry in that journal every time we had class. It was a totally open assignment. We could write a poem, tell a story, log what we had for breakfast, anything. I wish I still had that journal. I was really proud of some of the stuff that was in there. I lost it during one of my moves about 10 years later.

I loved that class as well, but for some reason never pursued an interest in writing. Once the class was over, I stopped writing. That was 1989 and other than the occasional letter from the mission field years later or required college papers, I never wrote again until I started this blog.

Now that I am writing all the time, I love it. I wish I had never stopped. I even have a few book ideas in mind. I don't know if I will ever get published, but at least one of the books will be written. We'll just have to see where it goes from here.

What Would You Change?

On November 27, I asked my readers to submit questions for me to answer. This post is to answer the question posed by Good Youngman Brown.

How do you feel about death/dying?

If you died this very second, what would be your biggest regret? Biggest success?

These are some deep questions and I am not sure that I have the answers to the second part even after days of careful reflection, but I will try. Let's tackle these one at a time.

I am not scared of dying. Not even a little bit. I know a lot of people say this and I can't speak for them, but I mean it. I may be scared of certain ways of dying. I obviously would be terrified of being slowly swallowed by an anaconda or being trapped in a burning building, but it is the pain associated with that kind of death that would scare me. The death itself does not scare me

I don't bring up my faith on this blog very often, but this question goes right to the heart of it. I know without any doubt what I will be doing after death and it is nothing to fear. I have given my life over to Jesus and declared him as my Lord (Boss). Through following him I have been forgiven of my sins (there have been a lot) against God and other people. Being cleansed of my sin, I can stand in the presence of God in the place He created for me. I am not on a suicide mission, but I can't wait to get there.

That question was the easy part. The second half is the portion I have really struggled with.

REGRETS

• I hate that I have been divorced twice. I despise that as being part of my past. I wouldn't want to just write the past off, but there are many, many regrets associated it. My first marriage was a five month long nightmare that should never have happened. My second was happier at times, but was filled with mistakes, dishonesty, lack of trust and hurtful words on both sides. I have many regrets tied to the entire experience.
• I often reflect on the fact that I am over 40 years old and never gotten my act together career-wise. I have jumped from job to job my entire life and haven't gotten anywhere. I believe that I've finally found my focus and am on track for the first time in my life, but due to past experience I have little confidence that I will stick with it.
• This one is more reflective contemplation than regret, but I look back at how I raised my kids almost daily. Did I do a good job? Did I spend enough time with them? Were they aware of how much I loved them? Despite the turmoil of my marriage, did we provide a happy home? Have I provided them with the tools they will need to survive in the real world? Was I supportive of their dreams or did I crush their spirits? Did I provide the proper balance of discipline? Was I too lenient? Did I mold them into happy, productive, functioning members of the adult world? These are tough questions.

SUCCESSES

• I am proud that I finally completed my degree. I didn't get that piece of paper in my hand until 14 years after I started it, but I got it.
• I am happy that despite whatever other mistakes I have made with my children, they are happy and know how to enjoy life. I am a very positive and happy person and I love that it seems to have rubbed off on them. Their lives will be much easier simply because of that positive attitude.
• My proudest accomplishment is in knowing that my children love the Lord and their eternities have been secured. The most important decision that could be made in their entire lives is already behind them and nothing else matters nearly as much. If I were to die today, that part has been taken care of and we will all see each other again.

This was a hard post to write and I was choked up through most of it, but self-reflection is a good thing. Thank you, Youngman Brown for the questions.

Why I Want To Teach

Two days ago, I asked my readers to pose questions for me to answer. That post and their questions can be found here. Rachel of When a Lion Sleeps, Let It Sleep asked me five questions. I addressed four of them yesterday and will be tackling the last one today.

Rachel asked me why I wanted to be a teacher. This same question was also asked by Brandie Boddie of Penning Praises back in August 2011 and I never properly addressed it.

Addressing flood relief workers
in Eastland, Texas

For the last 15 years, I have been a teacher in some capacity. Whether it was through jobs I've had, working at my church, summer camp or volunteering somewhere. I have taught kids and adults. I am often asked to lead meetings at my places of employment. I am usually the one who gathers information to share or teach to the other employees. In 1990, before people had the computer familiarity they have today, I was put in charge of the college computer labs because I had a talent for helping people understand what needed to be done. These are practices that have been part of who I am since I left high school.

When I moved to Puerto Rico in 2001, my job had two primary responsibilities. I was the pastor of a church and the administrator of a school with over 300 students. During this time, I taught on a regular basis and loved every minute of it. However, for some reason, it never occurred to me to become a "teacher."

A couple of years ago, when I moved to Moweaqua to finish my degree, I immediately sought out the minister and youth minister of my new church to introduce myself and get myself plugged in so I could start working with people and begin teaching. This was just a natural train of thought for me, but I still wasn't thinking of teacher as a profession.

It wasn't until my last semester of school that I finally figured it out at forty years old. I was reading a magazine article about the age of most public school teachers. According to this article, almost a quarter of today's teachers will be retiring within the next 10 years. As I continued to read, something stirred inside me. Over the course of the next couple of days, I continued to think about this article and began looking up more information. It was slowly occurring to me that I was built for this profession. By the end of the week, I couldn't figure out why I hadn't made this decision years before.

I started the process at school to be able to transfer to a school of education as soon as I graduated the following semester. I got my Bachelor's degree at Lincoln Christian University and started on my Master's at Greenville the next year. I have made a couple of changes since then as I try to decide exactly what I want to teach, but teaching has stayed at the center of my education.

I started out with the intention of being a high school math teacher since I am good at math but was never really excited about it. I have since veered away from the public school focus and am pursuing a degree in ESL. (English as a Second Language) This will combine my love of teaching with my passion for missions and interacting with people of other cultures. ESL is also the second largest job in demand worldwide. Not only will I be in a field that I love, but in this competitive and difficult job market, I have an excellent chance at finding work.

Ideally, I would like to work in a university setting, but I will see where this takes me. I expect to graduate in May of 2014.

Color Induced Memories - Without the Use of Drugs

I am halfway through the NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). During this month I have to post every single day. So far, I have done this. However, some days I sit down to write and think, "What am I going to write about?"

Then, I come up with ideas like today's topic.  Here is a list of some of my best memories inspired by the colors in the Crayola 8 pack.

Since the NaBloPoMo people don't provide topics to write on, we end up with crazy stuff like this.

The colors are as follows: red, yellow, green, blue, brown, black, orange and purple.


RED                                               

Red has been my favorite color for as long as I can remember. I like bright colors and red stands out better than the others.

When I was in junior high, I got my first new bike. It wasn't my first bike, but it was the first one that we bought at a store instead of out of someone's garage. It was a red BMX HUFFY dirt bike. I lived on that bike for the next several years. It was on that bike that I had the worst accident of my life that still gives me back problems today. That bike was under me for some of my most daring and stupid stunts. I loved that bike and rode it all over the countryside.


YELLOW                                      

One of my first cars was an AMC Hornet station wagon. It was bright yellow with wood paneling on the doors. It had originally been given to Trevor, my youngest brother, but he said he wouldn't drive it. He went without a car when he turned 16 until he got the saved to buy his own. He refused to be seen in it. I, however, had no such shame and happily took it.

This is the car I was driving when I ran down my brother for one of our stunts. That incident shattered the windshield which I didn't get fixed for months. It also had a headlight that would fall out and swing by the wires while it pointed straight down. The floor had rusted to the point that your feet got wet when I drove over puddles. The hood was wired down because the latch wouldn't catch and there was a loud gun shot-sounding backfire when I let off the gas. The heat didn't work and the windows wouldn't go down, but it was a fun car to drive. I actually miss it.


GREEN                                          

In junior high, we had a dog named Butch. Butch was one of those dogs that was fun to have around, but was pretty useless. You know how smart some dogs can be? Butch was not one of those dogs. My parents were always commenting on how stupid he was, but one summer we discovered he had a special talent.

While weeding in the garden, Mom was also pulling the tomato worms off the tomato plants. Tomato worms are large, thick, green, disgusting-looking creatures. She had pulled a few off and set them beside her to be exterminated later when Butch came bounding up. Mom tried to make him leave since he was a hindrance to getting any work done, but he wouldn't listen. She eventually picked up one of the large worms and threw it, hoping he would chase it like he was going after a stick.

He did chase after it, but when he got to it, he ate it. As disgusting as this was, it was an easy way to get rid of the worms. Mom threw him the rest of them and he ate them all. He came back to get more. He sat there patiently until she found another one and he promptly ate it as soon as she pulled it off. However, now that he saw where she was getting them from, he knew where to look.

Butch starting looking over the plants himself and pulled off the worms he found. He never damaged the plants, but cleared the garden of tomato worms. It became his job from then on.


BLUE                                                       

When I was about 10 years old, my parents asked if I would like my own room. Since we didn't have any extra rooms, I wasn't sure where they meant, but I loved the idea. I had shared a room with my two younger brothers my entire life.

They moved me into the basement. It wasn't very glamorous down there, but I didn't care. It was all mine. A metal bed frame was pulled from storage somewhere and I was given a can of blue spray paint to fix it up. I loved it.


BROWN                                             

When I was an undergrad, I took Tae Kwon Do lessons. I really enjoyed it and I got into very good physical shape. Some of the training was grueling, but I never missed a day. My favorite days were when we sparred against each other. On those days, it wasn't just repetitious maneuvers. We got to actually apply what we learned.

The instructor would pair us up against people who were of the same belt class to keep it fair. The first time we did this I had only been doing it for a few months and had not tested for any belt yet. This meant I was at the lowest rank of white belt. I was put up against another white belt. However, it wasn't really a fair fight. He already had a brown belt in judo.

I stepped onto the mat and within seconds took a nasty kick to the front of my thigh. I shook it off and went on to win the set. I wasn't able to walk for almost two weeks afterward, but I was proud that I had taken down a brown belt. I never let him forget it.


BLACK                                          

Before I went off to college, I had lived in one town all my life. Waltonville, Illinois was a very small town in southern Illinois. When I got married and had kids, that same small town was all the exposure they had of the world. Kirsten was just turning two when I started classes at LCU. For the first time, my kids were exposed to people that did not look just like us.

In the apartment across the hall from us lived a Jamaican man named Moses. Kirsten was always fascinated with his hands. Every time he came over she would take his hand and turn it over several times. She never commented on it, but she always looked at them.

One day after playing hard outside, she was covered from head to toe with dirt. We put her in the tub and with her first swipe of the wash cloth on her arm, there was a profound difference between the color of her skin and the sections that had not been washed yet. She squealed, "Look. It comes off! Go get Moses and show him."

This discovery convinced her that Moses just needed to wash and he would no longer be black. We had to bring him in to show her otherwise.


ORANGE                                            

When I was very young, my maternal grandmother lived in a mobile home right behind our house. Since she lived so close, cookies where easy to get a hold of. Plus, it was a great air conditioned place to run to when Mom made us go outside and play. In fact, we got grounded once for going to Grandma's house when we were supposed to be outside.

She had a cute little dog we all liked to play with. She told great stories and she had this hideous orange light fixture on a chain that hung over her dining room table. I will cut her some slack because it was the 70's, but the image of that thing is still burned in my mind.


PURPLE                                       

When I was about 12 years old, we moved into the house where my father grew up. He bought the house from his mother (my grandmother), who then moved into a mobile home behind the house. At different points in my childhood, I've had both grandmothers in my backyard.

Grandma loved to garden and also had several grapevines throughout the property. The grapes were a dark purple. Almost black. She used the grapes to make her own jelly and grape juice. I don't know what she did differently, but I couldn't get enough of that grape juice. Welch's could have learned some things from her.

Can I Trade This Month For Another One?

Life sucks right now. It really does. I am not depressed or in a stupor, but things have just not been going my way for the last couple of months.

I'm done!

Before I get into this, I want to make it clear that not everything sucks. I'm caught up on my bills. I have a wonderful daughter. I have a fantastic girlfriend that I am very grateful to have met this year and I am doing well in school. Despite these positive things, life shouldn't have to be this hard. The perks of being a grown up are highly overrated.

First is my school. I was so happy with the school from which I got my Bachelor's degree. They offered immediate assistance with any issues that arose. My counselors were wonderful at staying on top of my classes to ensure that I was on schedule with graduation. They offered substitutions when changes arose and did their best to enable me to concentrate on my studies.

I am now working on my Master's at a new school and spend as much time fighting with the administration as I do studying. Last semester I almost didn't get my funding since the school policy does not allow a student to sign up for a class until they pass the one before it. My scholarship required a minimum number of hours to receive the money. The school policy made it appear that I wouldn't be taking enough hours to qualify. I had to drive over seventy miles to the campus to get a face to face meeting in order to fix this issue.

I also moved one hundred miles to a new town in order to be closer to one of the campuses offering the classes once I couldn't take any more online classes. This semester was the first time I would have to actually go to a classroom. They decided to cancel classes on that campus, so now I have to drive almost two hours.

They also keep cancelling classes and rescheduling them for other semesters. These changes have thrown off my graduation date and will continue to do so. I have no idea when I will graduate at this rate. I was only able to get five hours completed in the entire first year due to their incompetence. Since I need 87 hours to graduate, this is not acceptable. I will be searching for a new college at the end of this semester.

The second major cause of my stress is my job (or lack of). Two months ago, I quit a job to accept work with a new business opening in town. The following week, the place was not ready to open yet. After two weeks of no pay I started working, but there was no business. Since the company made no money, there were no funds to even give me a paycheck.

The boss promised he would pay when business started picking up, but in the meantime he didn't want me to keep working for free. I left and started picking up odd jobs here and there to keep the bills paid. Without a steady income, this was not an easy task. I did not get another job, because I believed the business would get going and there is a substantial paycheck involved once it actually gets off the ground.

I just started working again this week and am supposed to get paid at the end of the week (including the money owed from last month). However, I no longer have a lot of faith that this company will be stable. I just got hired at another job which will pay significantly less, but will provide guaranteed money every week.

I haven't provided many of the additional details that make this such a difficult decision because I am trying not to slander anyone or give away the places I am talking about to any of my readers that are local. The stress of this decision has weighed heavily on my mind all week as the weekend approaches and I have to pick one or the other.

I hate to walk away from the amount of money that is being offered, but I am not sure that the money will actually be there. If I take the lower paying job, I will have the security of knowing I have a paycheck every week, but will be kicking myself a few months from now if the first company takes off.

I am ready to have all this behind me. I realize this is just part of life. It sucks. Then it gets better. Then it sucks again.

I understand that life may be wonderful a year from now. Hopefully, in just a couple of weeks. At this point in my post, I usually try to have a nice little wrap up, but I don't have one right now.

Thank you for joining me in my little pity party. I will offer something more positive tomorrow.

Crossing State Lines

My daughter Kirsten is sixteen and a junior in high school. She has two years left before she will be headed off to college and I will have this house all to myself. However, today marked one of those milestones that made her want to go right now. Her boyfriend Charles left for college this morning.

His school is about a six hour drive from here in another state, so they will not be seeing each other regularly on weekends. He might make it back home once or twice in a semester. I have split feelings about this.

I have had a couple of years to get used to the idea of my daughter having a boyfriend. I can even witness him kiss her with only a minimal spike in my blood pressure. I have tried to teach my daughter to be strong and independent. I raised her to know who she is and not to ever be defined by her relationship with another person or to allow her tastes, opinions, feelings or desires to be decided by someone else, whether that be a person or societal expectations. She is growing to be that woman and I couldn't be more proud of her.

The topic of Charles leaving for college came up last week over dinner and another adult advised Kirsten to move on and live her life. Do not put her life on hold and wait for him. This advice goes right along with the spirit of the lessons I have taught my daughter over the years and I couldn't agree more....sort of.

While the adult side of me sees the rationale in the advice and I would probably give the same advice to any random teenager, I have a selfish father side as well that wants to protect my daughter. While he is away at college and she decides that he is the man for her, that means she is not dating anyone else. I have absolutely no problem with that. She is basically not dating as long as he is her boyfriend and school is in session. No father would complain with those circumstances.

On the other hand, should a sixteen year old be making this type of commitment? You only get to be young once. Would this be considered putting her life on hold for a boy?

I have decided I have no problem with this and there is one main reason for it. I like this kid. Kirsten has not had a lot of boyfriends, but of the ones she has dated, only two have been quality guys. The last one moved to Georgia. There were a few that were okay. They weren't bad kids, they just took up space. There have been a couple I really did not like. One of them was so bad, I forbid her from ever seeing him again. Yes, I am that type of father. It was for her protection. That kid was trouble.

I wish our culture recognized the wisdom of arranged marriages. Then, I could just forbid her from dating until I found the perfect man for her. I would do a bang-up job, but very very few would make the cut.

The guy she is dating now is great and is the reason I have no problem with this. As long as she considers herself his girlfriend, she is not bringing home some other idiot. Plus, he really is a great kid. His parents were my youth ministers when I was in high school and his father baptized me. I am well aware of the stereotype about preacher's kids, but it is just a general rule of thumb and does not always apply. Charles is attending a Christian college to prepare to be a missionary. He is well mannered, respectful, courteous, never rude and very funny. Most importantly, he treats my daughter very well.

It is these and other qualities that make me happy to see that she is holding on to him. Kirsten is only sixteen and I am not trying to get her married off. It's too soon to think about such things, but one day she will end up with someone. With each guy she has brought home, I couldn't help but imagine what her being married to him would be like. Most of the time, I haven't liked the future I saw for her. Wanting the best for my daughter, I am happy to see that she has found a quality man. As long as she is with him, she is not with some other random douchebag.

I am not suggesting that she needs to marry Charles. Once again, it is too early for that kind of talk, but it is comforting to see that she recognizes what a good guy he is. I am totally supportive of this relationship, but don't tell him.

I'm Free

Less than 2 hours ago, I finished my last assignment for the semester. I now have one more semester behind me. I am not taking any summer classes this year, so I AM FREE for the next couple of months.

Because this was my last week of class, I did not make any trips out of town to see Red. As enamored (my daughter's word of choice) as I may be, I did have work I needed to get done. However, now that I am done, first things first. I will be seeing Red tomorrow.

I have many plans for the summer. A year ago, I wrote a post about this same topic. Their are some major differences between last year's post and this one. Last year, I had just completed my last assignment for my entire Bachelor's degree. YAY! This year, I have completed my first year of my Master's.

Last year, I had no idea what I wanted to do once I found myself with all this free time. This year, I don't have that problem. I am looking forward to being able to read books that I want to read. I have lots of travel planned for the summer including time on both the East Coast and West Coast. I have someone that I want to go spend time with. I joined a softball team and I plan to print out my Bucket List from last August to mark off as many as possible before I get busy with school again in the fall.

Kirsten's last day of school is Thursday, so she is busy making her summer plans as well. In June, she is headed to Arecibo, Puerto Rico for a mission trip and will probably spend the rest of the summer working at a summer camp. She has gone there every year for the last three years (since she was 12) to work in the kitchen. It's hard work with 14 hour days, but she loves doing it.

I hope to bring the funny back tomorrow, but wanted to briefly celebrate my new and much anticipated freedom.

What big plans do all of you have for the summer?

Dealers and Winos and Pimps Must Sleep In

Before reading this post, you need to read Dealers and Winos and Pimp - Oh My! to get up to speed. This is a part two from that post. Quick reminder: Kirsten and I got to Indianapolis for a funeral. Our van broke down as soon as we arrived in town. The 5 mile walk back to our hotel took us through a very questionable part of town. Once again, click here if you did not read my last post.

When we woke up yesterday morning, I decided we would stay at the hotel another night. That meant we did not have to check out and we could leave our stuff in the room. Being 6:30 in the morning, we made the trek back to the funeral home on foot. We knew it was not a good neighborhood, but we had survived the day before and theorized that most crack heads do not get up before noon. We expected the streets to be empty and we were correct.

We met the tow truck driver and soon our van was gone. Soon after people began to arrive for the visitation. I have been to literally hundreds of funerals, but this was one of the most difficult services I have ever sat through. The service was for the 19 year old son of some college friends. He was loved by many and there was a very large crowd.

Despite the mood and reason that we were there, it was great to get to see old friends. Other people from those college days showed up as well. Most of us hadn't seen each other in over 10 years. The day alternated between tears and laughter. It was a great reminder of how close we all used to be and how much I miss them. We parted promising that we will not wait another 10 years to get together.

We did hear from the mechanic that the problem with my van was the fuel pump. $603.22 This trip that wasn't supposed to cost me more then a few hundred dollars just jumped to almost $1,000.

This morning we are getting packed up and hoping that the van will be done in the morning as they said. Otherwise, we will be hauling all our stuff around the city until it is finished. We are hoping to only have to hop in a cab and go straight to the mechanic and be done with it. That will leave us a few hours to explore the city. I imagine we can take in more with a car than we did on foot for the last few days.

I know this post sounds a bit depressing, but the last few days have been great. It has a tragedy at its center, but we have had a few adventures, got to see old friends and have found a new area to visit when we have free days. Life should be back to normal next week.