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Summer Solstice

“Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it?  I always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it”

-Daisy Buchanan, The Great Gatsby

Four Things That My Dad Taught Me

In honor of Father’s Day, here is a list of four of best lessons that my Dad has taught me.

1.  Do the job right.  Mowing the lawn was probably the most miserable thing that I can remember about growing up.  Seriously.  It was a nightmare.  Not only did my Dad firmly believe that the best time to cut the grass was as early as possible on Saturday morning–but that there was an obvious right way to cut the grass.  Right in all of its meanings.  Not wrong.  Correct.  Morally appropriate.  I rarely cut the grass the right way.  I took shortcuts.  I missed spots.  I didn’t bag the grass regularly enough.  Saturday mornings would end in misery for everyone involved.  Dad yelling at me.  Me yelling at Dad.  Now that I’m 35, I understand what Dad was telling me.  Sometimes, there are right ways to do a job.  Sloppiness shows.  Carelessness says more about you than it does the job.  The way we approach the work that we’ve been given says so much about our character.

2.  Plan ahead.  A few weeks ago, I was thinking about an incident (really just a moment) that I hadn’t thought about in years.  When I was in ninth grade, my church youth group was loading up the church van for our mission trip to New Orleans.  The back of the bus was filled to the brim with sleeping bags and blankets.  It was five o’clock in the morning and all I wanted to do was get on the bus and go to sleep.  Just before I boarded the bus, though, my Dad called me over.  He told me that in case there was an emergency, I could kick out one of the bus windows with my feet.  The whole time we were loading the bus, he was getting more and more worried that the emergency exit in the back was blocked by sleeping bags.  He wanted to make sure that I knew a way to get off the bus.  I don’t think I took it for what it was at the time and I probably only half listened but what he was really saying to me was this:  ”I love you.  I want you to plan ahead and be careful because I don’t want to lose you.”  When I was in college, we used to argue a lot about my irresponsibility with money and my inability to go to classes.  I felt like he was always lecturing me.  Here is what he was saying, though:  I love you.  I want you to plan ahead for great life because I don’t want to lose you.”

3.  Make jokes.  My Dad is a funny guy.  He is goofy and silly and willing to laugh at himself and to laugh at others.  The best thing about his jokes are that they make him laugh.  A lot of the time, my Dad will start laughing before he even finishes the joke he is telling.  My Dad tells jokes when are relaxing and having a good time–but he will also tell jokes when we aren’t laughing.  My family has always gone back and forth about politics and I honestly believe that one of the things that have kept us from going for the jugular are my Dad’s jokes.  We may disagree about everything under the sun–but what’s funny is funny.

4.  Love what you love.  My Dad is the epitome of an Alabama football fan.  When he was in the Army and we were living all over the place, everybody knew that his real devotion was Alabama football.  I think that I knew more about Bear Bryant as a kid than I did about most of our presidents.  He used to wake me and my brother up by chanting “Here we go Bama.  He we go!”  He got mad at another family member once and threw out the worst of insults by saying their really just an Auburn fan.  He also loves Nascar, computers, Civil War history, Corvettes, country music, and model trains.  My Mom jokes that my Dad loves the exact same things he loved in college–which works for her since that is when they fell in love.  He doesn’t lack hobbies.  My point, though, is that my Dad throws himself into his hobbies.  He is dedicated to his hobbies and interests in a way that can be inspiring.  While I can be too lazy to go down to the local bookstore to hear an author I like speak, my Dad will drive two hours and stay up until midnight to hear a country musician that he loves.  While I come up with new projects for myself all the time, my Dad is in the process of creating the model railroad that he always wanted.  In fact, some of the buildings are ones that he made twenty years ago.  He loves what he loves and isn’t ashamed or bashful about brining you along for the ride.

Flooded But Not Forgotten

Since all mission trips require a good slide show, here is the show from our church’s recent trip to Cedar Rapids, Iowa. 

Thanks to Carrie and Kristen for the pictures.

Eight Things I Loved About My Trip To New York

Matthew and I got back from visiting friends in New York last night.  Our flight was supposed to land at 6:30 pm–but we didn’t actually land until almost 10:00 pm.  A little annoying–but I know that there are much much worse flight delay nightmares out there.  New York is always incredible to visit–but its always nice to get home.

Here are eight things I loved about visiting New York.

1.  Seeing friends.  While we saw a lot of stuff and a lot of places–most of this visit wasn’t about seeing the sights.  It was about spending time with friends.  I got to not only see-but have a great time with a lot of old friends from a lot of different periods in my life.  Friends from high school.  Friends from college.  Friends from my first few years in Chicago.  New friends.  On Saturday morning, Ross hosted a brunch and basically invited everyone I know in New York over.  It was long and full of non-stop conversation, Bloody Mary’s, and bacon.  

2.  Seeing “Hair” with Ross.   It was everything that I was hoping for and more.  Afterwards, Ross and I went to a small bar and talked a lot.  

3.  Parco.  We stayed at our friend Chad’s place in Park Slope, Brooklyn.  Parco is a small pastry shop down the street from his apartment.  Their coffee got me moving even when I didn’t think it was possible.  

4.   Seeing Park Slope.  The past few times I’ve been to New York, we spent almost all of our time in Manhattan.  We spent a lot of time Manhattan during this trip–be we also spent a lot of time in Brooklyn.  I know I’m pretty late to the game in discovering this–but Park Slope is a really neat place.  Chad and his boyfriend Toby took us to Al Di La–a great Italian restaurant.  Matthew and I spend a lot of time just walking through the neighborhood.  Very cool.

5.  Browsing the stores in SoHo.  Whenever I visit New York, I always feel like the most poorly dressed and frumpy guy on the face of the planet.  This time was no different.  Still, though, it was fun to browse through the stores in SoHo and get ideas.  

6.  The Meat Packing District.  As a quasi urban planner (or at least educated to be an urban planner), one of my favorite parts about visiting New York is seeing the ongoing development.  This was my first time in the Meat Packing District.  Very interesting seeing the new uses for old spaces mixed in with some excellent new development.  

7.  Wandering through the East Village and Little Italy with Matthew.  Really just traveling with Matthew.  After five years of dating and buying property together, this was the first time Matthew and I have flown together for this kind of trip.  We’ve driven to Saugatuck and Indianapolis together.  We’ve driven ten hours together to visit my family in Alabama–but we’ve never flown to a different city and had the chance to explore together.  It was a lot of fun–we were both on the same page most of time.  The East Village and Little Italy were really a lot of fun.  Ross had taken me to a bar in the East Village a couple of times–but I had never explored the neighborhood in the daytime. 

8.  Being inspired to love Chicago again.  I love visiting New York and I always get caught up in a little city envy.  It’s hard not to get caught up in it a little bit.  When I get back, though, I feel more inspired to fall in love and explore my city more.  I get too caught up in the day to day and forget that I live in this amazing place.  Sure, we don’t have Park Slope or the East Village or MoMa or Broadway–but we have Lakeview and Andersonville, Wicker Park and Bucktown, the MCA and the new modern wing at the Art Institute, and an amazing store-front theatre scene.  I am very excited about getting on my bike and spending time in new neighborhoods and new shops and new restaurants this summer.

Hair

Matthew and I are flying to New York City tonight to visit friends–which is exciting on its own.  I haven’t been in New York for a few years now.  

Even more exciting, though, is that I get to go see “Hair” with my friend Ross while I’m there.  

Ross and I met when we were twelve years old and have been connected some way ever since then.  For over twenty years, we’ve been at each other’s houses, on the phone, sending emails, or chatting on Facebook.  We’ve known every little detail about each other’s lives.  We’ve been roommates.  We know each other’s families.  We’ve argued endlessly–but we’ve always known that that we care more about each other than the fights.  

In high school, Ross and I (and our friends) fell in love with “Hair.”  We watched the movie over and over again.  We listened to the soundtrack every where we went.  It was the perfect expression of the young bohemians we wanted to be–but since we were in Alabama had to settle for trips to Waffle House.  

Ross and I don’t need to be bohemians anymore.  Still, it will be fun to pretend.  This is the dawning of the age of aquarius, right?

] 

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Update:

I saw the show on Saturday night. The following night, “Hair” won the Tony for Best Revival.  Here’s the same song from Hair again from the Tony Awards.  

Cultivate Hope

This past weekend, I joined twelve other members of my church to travel to Cedar Rapids, Iowa and help clear out the mess left behind from last summer’s flood.

And it is still mess.  

We only spent the weekend.  In fact, we only worked for around twelve hours.  

And it is still a mess.

We all expect to see images of ongoing devastation in post-Katrina New Orleans.  But in Iowa?  When the river flooded Cedar Rapids last summer, over 4000 homes had to be evacuated.  Some of these families had less than twenty-four hours to pack their belongings and to get to higher ground.

In the affected area, many people still have not returned home.  Most can’t afford to rebuild.  Some don’t know yet if the City will even let them rebuild–or if they are going to be using their land to build a new levy.  Many are still living in FEMA trailers–but FEMA is getting antsy and ready to move on to the next big problem.

Our group spent most of our time working in an abandoned church.  New Life.  The all but abandoned neighborhood surrounding the church, already a center of poverty in Cedar Rapids, is trying to buy the church to create a community center.  One year later and the church still needed to be gutted.  We spent the weekend walling in mold and crumbling plaster–but we knew that we were leaving in a few hours.  

Along the main road that leads into this neighborhood, the residents had placed flower pots at each intersection.  In the flower pots, there was a sign.  Cultivate Hope.  

It is a mess–but they have hope.  We’re not sure if the community center will ever be built–but maybe the few hours that we gave to clearing out muck will help.  

When looking at information about the recovery efforts, I found a really interesting quote from Rev. Melisa Bracht-Wagner, the lead coordinator of the United Methodist Church’s response.  “FEMA documentation explains that faith based organizations are the bookends to disasters. The first one on the scene and the last ones off.”

People of all faith practices are still working in Iowa–but they need help.  Look online and find an organization that is working in Iowa or consider giving to the UMC’s response efforts.

Those Crazy Kids And Their Gay Marriages

The California Supreme Court just upheld Proposition 8–which is sad, but not surprising.  Still, I am choosing to stay postive. With the recent civil rights victories in Iowa, Maine, and Vermont, though,  I thought I would repost a blog post that I wrote last April.

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My friend Ross called me this afternoon to tell me to read an article in this this weekend’s New York Times Magazine. It’s an article about gay kids getting marred right out of college in Massachusetts. Very interesting.

Reading it (and really, thinking about the whole gay marriage issue) really makes you question what marriage is what it means to different people. The night before Matthew and I closed on our condo, I was wide awake at two in the morning thinking about the full weight of what was about to happen the next day. I’m not just talking about the financial commitment–which was daunting enough. I’m also talking about the commitment that Matthew and I were making to each other. After we closed, we were officially entangled. The option for a bitter fight, a packed bag, and a quick escape were gone. Since then, we’ve signed our wills giving each other the power to pull the plug and all that. We also decided who should get the dog if something were to happen to both of us.

Yes, marriage is about the emotional commitment people make to each other. Yes, it’s about entering into a religious covenant with another person. It is also about getting yourselves legally and financially mixed together and mixed up. When Matthew and I signed as joint owners of our condo, we were mixed together. We even established a joint checking account to use for our bills and our mortgage.

For us, that act was enough. I don’t think either of us need a ceremony. It might be fun–but anything that forces everyone to celebrate you for a few hours could be fun. When Matthew and I decided to buy a place together, we did it knowing that we were shutting the escape route a little tighter. For these twentysomethings, many of whom don’t have the option of creating other legal entanglements–getting the papers is the only way they have of having that “Holy crap, we’re really doing this and I’m really OK with it” moment.

I’ll let you know where we’re registered, because the way I see it, there’s a lot of straight people who owe us some wedding gifts. Oh wait, I never remember to send friends gifts for their weddings or birthday or kid’s birthday or anything–so I guess your all off the hook.

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When I wrote this a year ago, I don’t think that I really thought that gay marriage was going to be a legal reality any time soon.  I thought that we would have a lot more Californias.  Instead, we have had some major setbacks, but we’ve also had major victories.  There is a Civil Unions Bill in the pipeline in Illinois.  My church is in a deep discussion about how to properly honor same-sex commitments.  Even with today’s court decision, I am beginning to hope and think again that Matthew and I could have our promises to eachother legally recognized by someone other than our mortgage company.

Blogger's Block

I’ve been suffering from Blogger’s Block again.  

There’s a lot of neat stuff on the horizon, though–like a trip to Iowa next weekend to repair flood damaged homes.  After that, Matthew and I are taking trip to New York to visit friends.  And after that, I’m heading home to Huntsville for a family reunion.  

Hopefully, after those trips, I’ll have tons to ramble on about.  

In the meantime, here’s my “Blogger’s Block” video again.  

Napping

I used to be a professional napper.  I mean, I was really good at it.  Like, really really good.

Now, not so much.

In college in Tuscaloosa, it wasn’t even napping–it was going back to bed.  I would easily lay down for a nap at 1:00 pm and wake up around 6:00 pm.  This is probably one of the many reasons it took moving to a new city and six years later to finish up my Bachelor’s degree.  

Still, though, I used to know that naps were always a possibility if all else fails.  I could always lay down and go to sleep.  I was a nap addict.  

Like I said…  Now, not so much.

It takes a lot of effort to take a nap.  I need perfect quiet–or at least some soothing music on my iPod.  Yet another embarrassing confession on this blog…  I keep Enya on my iPod for this purpose.  I have to be really purposeful about not thinking about stuff.  I have to force myself to let my mind wander.  If I’ve had coffee in the past few hours, I can completely hang it up.  

Getting a good night sleep on a regular basis probably has a lot to do with it. 

I miss naps–but I don’t miss the times in my life where I needed them so much.  I used to nap a lot not just because I was sleep deprived from being up and out all night–but because they were my main escape route.  When life wasn’t going the way that I wanted it to, I would nap.  When I was in a bad mood, I would nap.  When I was anxiously sad (which seemed to be a lot of the time), I napped.

After I got my act together (or learned to fake it better), I looked at naps as a sign that I was letting things get messed up in my life again.  I knew my history with that type of escapism and would get really anxious about why I wanted to nap in the afternoon.  

Was I depressed and didn’t know it?  Shouldn’t I being doing something more productive?  Will people know that that I really don’t have my act together?

I am trying to be more purposeful on Sundays about resting and my lost art of napping is a part of that.  I don’t want to sleep for five hours–but getting in a good forty-five minutes to an hour (one Enya album) of napping is awesome.  I got thirty minutes this afternoon and I’m pretty excited about it.  

Life still doesn’t go the way that I want it  to every once in a while and Matthew will be happy to tell you that I can still rock a bad mood.  And every once in while (just for old times sake, I think) I’ll find myself anxiously sad.  

I just don’t need an escape route anymore.

Like cigars, sometimes a nap is just a nap.